Having my way with Ulysses

Beseeching her to intercede for them.

Oh, drink to Mary we believe that without sin she didst conceive. Teach us Mary how thus believing, we can sin without conceiving.Holy Mother Public Relations, Inc.
10th Heaven
Empyrean

Meeting Minutes

Date:  June 26
Time:  8:22 pm
Location:  10th Heaven conference room C, Empyrean building
Purpose:   Intervention for Mary Star of the Sea, The Virgin of Virgins, etc.

Attendees:  

Mary Star of the Sea, Holy Mary, Holy Mother of God, Holy Virgin of virgins, Mother of Christ, Mother of the Church, Mother of divine grace, Mother most pure, Mother most chaste, Mother inviolate, Mother undefiled, Mother most amiable, Mother most admirable, Mother of good counsel, Mother of our Creator, Mother of our Savior, Virgin most prudent, Virgin most venerable, Virgin most renowned, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful, Virgin most faithful, Mirror of justice, Seat of wisdom, Cause of our joy, Spiritual vessel, Vessel of honor, Singular vessel of devotion, Mystical rose, Tower of David, Tower of ivory, House of gold, Ark of the covenant, Gate of heaven, Morning star, Health of the sick, Refuge of sinners, Comforter of the afflicted, Help of Christians, Queen of Angels, Queen of Patriarchs, Queen of Prophets, Queen of Apostles, Queen of Martyrs, Queen of Confessors, Queen of Virgins, Queen of all Saints, Queen conceived without original sin, Queen assumed into heaven, Queen of the most holy Rosary. Queen of the family, Queen of Peace, Queen who forgets her limits, Queen a little volatile, Queen who sometimes has Blackouts, Queen found Puking and Shitfaced Drunk just outside of Conference Room C not 6 hours ago. And others who wish to remain anonymous. [Lizzy Twigg, Cassandra, Joseph, Anne, Jesus]

Agenda:

1.  Gently, oh so very gently introduce Mary to the possibility that she might have a slight, hardly noticeable really, not even anything to worry about, issue with drinking just a bit more than she ought.

2.  If Mary seems at all receptive, which would be an enormous step on its own, introduce her to the 12 steps.  Gently or we’re totally screwed.

Discussion: 

1.  Lizzy T. explained to Mary that she might consider becoming Our Lady of Temperance and C. added that Our Lady of Perpetual Kindness can be rather an angry drunk.  Mary expressed that C. is a washed up hack not to be believed and Lizzy T. is a literary groupie whore who is probably stoned off her ass right now as we speak.

2.  J. attempted an explanation of his feelings concerning the state of martial affairs and a little more encouragement in the bedroom might be nice.  I mean, it’s not the size of the wave that counts.  Mary suggested J. get back to taking meeting minutes in the kiddie pool and honey, it’s the size of the wave.  It’s always the size of the wave.  Besides, the motion of J.’s ocean is a drop in the bucket to somebody who’s come face to face with a tsunami.

3.  Mary wanted to know who the hell invited her mother.  A. said who said she wanted to be here she had better things to do.  Mary said then go do them.  A. said Mary was giving her an anxiety attack and she is rude and all she’s ever does is damage.  Mary said A. is a controlling hypochondriac who can’t see past her own narcissism to realize that this colossal waste of time is not about her for Christ’s sake.

4. Jesus C. said what the hell is going on here.  Mary said Jesus get back to your father and stop appearing suddenly as if from nowhere.  Jesus C. said big words from somebody who just showed up on the belly of a South American turtle.  A. said in her day children didn’t talk to their mothers like that and no wonder Jesus C. turned out rotten given the upbringing he had.

Action Items:

1. Lizzie T. suggested we discuss the 12 steps another time.  Mary said we can shove the 12 steps right up our power greater than ourselves.

2. C suggested we should give it up now and save ourselves.  She was overruled.

3. Jesus C. will turn all the wine back into water.

 
 
Minutes typed by: Joseph
Approved by:  Unapproved
 

That which I was is that which I am and that which in possibility I may come to be.

Within my memory is fixed -- and now moves me -- your dear, you kind paternal image when, in the world above, from time to time you taught me how man makes himself eternal; and while I live, my gratitude for that must always be apparent in my words. 2:16 pm

Scene: [Around the ideal form of a table sit Cassandra, Caesar, Thoth, Lizzie Twigg, Brunetto Latini, Mother Dana, and Little John.  The theatre is darkened and an appropriate number of candles are burning with an inward light alongside several vestals’ lamps.  Peatsmoke rises from the trapdoor along with wafts of incense made from opoponax and violets.  Rest suddenly possesses the discrete vaulted cell, rest of warm and brooding air.]

Lizzie Twigg:  Right.  Thank you all for coming.

Little John:  [Drunk, a little dumb] When are we getting paid?

Cassandra:  Why is he here?  His breath is harming the vibrations.  And are those birthday candles?

Lizzie Twigg:  Yes, they seemed appropriate.  Don’t mind Little John, I found him vomiting in the greenroom and we needed one more body.  Seven is the perfect number for a séance and I am determined to get it right this time.  So let’s get started.  Æ is loose among the living, he’s only just managed to go undetected, though just barely.  So far he has appeared in Scylla and Charybdis, but there is no telling where he’ll turn up next so we have to get him back.  Thoth, am I speaking too quickly?

Thoth:  No, I’m recording it all perfectly, thanks.  Learned from Chitragupta.

Cassandra:  We won’t get him back.

Lizzie Twigg:  He’s coming back.  Now, be prepared for paradoxes.  He is alive but he is also dead.  His body has regenerated and though he appears normal, he is greatly decayed.  But from looking he is what he was; his moles still appear in their usual places, but he is a bit soft.  Also, his molecules are shuttling to and fro much too rapidly.  Mother Dana, we will need your help to repair him when we get him back.

Cassandra:  We won’t get him back.

Caesar:  You said that already.

Mother Dana: I can weave and unweave bodies and reconcile him to himself, but I’m not sure what to do about sharpening him up.

Lizzie Twigg:  Well, we’ll cross that Rubicon when we come to it.  First, there can be no reconciliation if there has not been a sundering.  Should be simple after that.

Caesar:  [Simply] You think it’s so easy.

Cassandra: [Easily]  Down, boy.  Life was hard for us all.  No need to get worked up about it now you’re dead.

Caesar: [Deadly] Vixen.  Whore.  Who listens to you?  Your kind sickens me.

Little John: [vomits under the table] Shagart! Shagart!

Lizzie Twigg:  Bear with me people.  When Æ resurrected he took my heart with him.

Thoth:  What did it weigh?

Lizzie Twigg: And I want him back.  Besides, I may see myself as I sit here now, but by reflection from that which then I shall be.  And that future which casts its shadow before includes Æ.

Cassandra:  But this is eternity, honey, there is no future.  The future is the conjoined twin sister of the past.  That which was, is.  That which may come to be, is.  It’s an all-at-onceness, sweet girl, nothing more.

Lizzie Twigg:  Exactly.  And he’s not here.  My is, is missing an aeon.

Cassandra:  I warn you, Lizzie, bring him back and he will crave the world of the living.  But you won’t bring him back.

Brunetto Latini:  Dear Twigg, when he returns you must reassure him that he will live on in his work.  Glory gives the wise man a second life; that is to say, after his death the reputation which remains of his good work makes it seem as if he were still alive.

Cassandra:  It won’t be enough.

Lizzie Twigg:  [Tossing off a glass of brandy neat] Please, let’s get started.  Where there is reconciliation, there must have been first a sundering.

Caesar:  You said that already.

One who has faded into impalpability through death, through absence, through change of manners.

What is love? 'tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure. 2:10 pm

I married a ghost.  And I died before I was born.  Liliata rutilantium.  Well, I died sixty-seven years after I was born, but what is it to you how we lived or died?  Forget me.  He did.  He left me and he gained a world of pretty theatre boys in the cast off armor of court ladies.  The world believes William made a mistake marrying me.  And got out of it as best he could and quickly too.  Stephen thinks a man of genius makes no mistakes, that his errors are volitional, to be used as portals of discovery.  Well William’s genius discovered my portal sure enough.  Made use of me.  And don’t think that because I was twenty-six and he a full eight years younger than me that I drew him in, trapped him into bed and then ruthlessly wed.  Listen to greenroom gossip if you like, but consider:  what would I want with a boy pauper for a husband?  Call me a whore before and a shrew after, what do I care, but the truth is he came after me.  The mistake was mine and he knew it.  He made it Ophelia’s mistake too.  But instead of drowning myself in the Avon, I told my family and they fixed it.  Took care of business.  Five months after our wedding I gave birth to our daughter, my sweet light-of-love.  But did he care?  No.  Gone he was to London and no agenbite of inwit to it.  And for me what was he, a ghost by his absence to haunt me.  And my status?  Not widow.  Hardly a wife.  A stationary target for his debt collectors.  As he rose I became conspicuous.  Like a bad smell in the room, worse than that stench hovering around Æ.  The smell of him!  I may not have a nose left to my face but wow!  That reek will raise the dead.  But the point odoriferous Æ makes is valid.  What use is it to pry into my husband’s life, the bastard.  Good for nothing.  Lousy father.  It was no use to me, that I can assure you, I wept alone.  Leaving us to starve on our own in Stratford.  His drinking, his debts.  Stephen owes AE almost $100, did you know that?  But did he catch AE’s hint?  Bringing up my worthless husband’s financial incontinence.  He caught it.  Then he rationalized his way out of it.  Stephen five months ago was a different set of molecules went his logic.  It wasn’t me.  It was those molecules of Stephen that borrowed the money, the Stephen now is composed of entirely new stuff and cannot be blamed for what any prior Stephen has done.  Free and clear.  No agenbite of inwit, eh Stephen?  Nice try kid.  Good use of physics.  That handy second law of thermodynamics, those molecules from five months ago will decay as plainly as did the nose on my face.  But don’t you forget that first law.  There are still constants to deal with and your memory persists.  It changes things, does a little rearranging here and there, always a bit of phenomenal fluxing within grey matter, but memory persists.  And don’t forget your form of forms.  That soul rattling around within those nice new molecules of yours persists too.  Just look at me if you need a bit of proof.  Or get a whiff of AE  if you prefer your proof to be more on the measurable side of things.  You owe what you owe.  Pay your own damn way.

Never speaking

There where it smells of shit it smells of being. Man could just as well not have shat, not have opened the anal pouch, but he chose to shit as he would have chosen to live instead of consenting to live dead. Because in order not to make caca, he would have had to consent not to be, but he could not make up his mind to lose being, that is, to die alive. There is in being something particularly tempting for man and this something is none other than CACA. (Roaring here.)1:50 pm

[Scene: Immortal lovely Venus, Juno, and Galatea, shapely goddesses with curves the world admires, stand naked together.  All to see.  They don’t care what man looks.]

Venus: Mortal!

Galatea:  Quick, be statues.

Juno:  Stop breathing Galatea.  Why can’t you stop breathing?

Galatea:  Hey, that’s not my fault.  Blame Venus.

Venus:  Mortal coming!  Whisper!  Try to look like the three graces.

[A man and ready on his way to the yard pauses, drops something, bends down to look.  See if she.  He stands and before walking on he makes swift passes in the air with juggling fingers. Obviously in the craft.]

Venus:  Is he gone? 

Juno:  Yes.  Why do they always look?

Galatea:  Attention defecate disorder.  They think we have no.

Venus:  I’d like to surprise the next one.  Give myself to him, a man with manly conscious.  Lay with men lovers occasionally.

Juno:  I’ll bet you would.

Galatea:  I prefer mortals.  But they do reek of food.  And shit.  Disgusting things they eat too, how did they ever think to eat things like snails,  or oysters?  Unsightly things like clots of phlegm.  Stuff them in one hole and out the other behind.  Like stoking an engine.

Venus:  Oysters have an effect on the sexual.

Galatea:  But how would they know that?  The first one to say yum, that looks like I could eat it.  Imagine!  Disgusting.

St. Leger:  Waugh!  Waugh!  Iiiiiichaaaaaaach!

Juno: What is he saying?

Galatea:  I think he is calling us whores again.  Shut up you two dimensional freak!  I can’t stand the sight of him hanging there day after day.  Eyes gouged out, no lips.

Venus:  No tongue, lucky for us.  Can you imagine having no tongue.  How would you?

Juno:  Stop.  Please no vivid accounts Venus, you’ll get Leger even more agitated and then there will be no end to the howling.

Venus:  He needs to get laid.  And not by me.

Galatea:  Me either.

Juno:  Oh Gods no.