Saturday, June 16, 2012
Leopold Bloom
Yes because he never did a thing like that before as ask to get his breakfast in bed with a couple of eggs since the City Arms hotel when he used to be pretending to be laid up with a sick voice doing his highness to make himself interesting for that old faggot Mrs Riordan that he thought he had a great leg of and she never left us a farthing all for masses for herself and her soul greatest miser ever was actually afraid to lay out 4d for her methylated spirit telling me all her ailments she had too much old chat in her about politics and earthquakes and the end of the world let us have a bit of fun first God help the world if all the women were her sort down on bathingsuits and lownecks and of course nobody wanted her to wear them I suppose she was pious because no man would look at her twice i hope Ill never be like her a wonder she didn't want us to cover our faces but she was a welleducated woman certainly and her gabby talk about Mr Riordan here and Mr Riordan there I suppose he was glad to get shut of her and her dog. . .
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Anglo-Irish. Try this:
ReplyDeletefrom: The Great Hunger (An Gorta Mor)
Paddy Kavanaugh
Clay is the word and clay is the flesh
Where the potato gatherers like mechanised scarecrows move
Along the side-fall of the hill--Maguire and his men.
If we watch them an hour is there anything we can prove
Of life as it is broken-backed over the Book
Of Death? Here crows gabble over worms and frogs
And the gulls like old newspapers are blown clear of the ledges, luckily.
Is there some light of imagination in these wet clods?
Or why do we stand here shivering?
Yes I will yes.
ReplyDeleteHappy Bloomsday, brother.
Oh, JAmes Joyce, I would have never known today Bloomsday. Thanks. I guess I am a little behind on my novel readings, and my numbers. Sarah-breastfeeding numbers, you don't have a story?? Keep strong and getting better kid. Hope you have a good night's sleep.
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