Debate the syphilitic ramblings of James Joyce
hcrink
8,729 Posts
End here. Us then. Finn, again! Take. Bussoftlhee, mememormee! Till thousandsthee. Lps. The keys to. Given! A way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.(628.13 to 3.3)Phall if you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the pahrce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish.(4.15-17)But all they are all there scraping along to sneeze out a likelihood that will solve and salve life's robulous rebus(12.32-33)Behove this sound of Irish sense. Really? Here English might be seen. Royally? One sovereign punned to petery pence. Regally? The silence speaks the scene. Fake!(12.35 to 13.1-3)Countlessness of livestories have netherfallen by this plage, flick as flowflakes, litters from aloft, like a waast wizzard all of whirlworlds. Now are all tombed to the mound, isges to isges, erde from erde.(17.26-30)For that (the rapt one warns) is what papyr is meed of, made of, hides and hints and misses in prints. Till ye finally (though not yet endlike) meet with the acquaintance of Mister Typus, Mistress Tope and all the little typtopies. Filstup. So you need hardly spell me how every word will be bound over to carry three score and ten toptypsical readings throughout the book of Doublends Jined (may his forehead be darkened with mud who would sunder!) till Daleth, mahomahouma, who oped it closeth thereof the. Dor.(20.10-18)came at this timecoloured place where we live in our paroqial fermament one tide on another(29.30)in the Nichtian glossery which purveys aprioric roots for aposteriorious tongues this is nat language in any sinse of the world(83.10-12)'Tis as human a little story as paper could well carry(115.36)and look at this prepronominal funferal, engraved and retouched and edgewiped and puddenpadded, very like a whale's egg farced with pemmican, as were it sentenced to be nuzzled over a full trillion times for ever and a night till his noddle sink or swim by that ideal reader suffering from an ideal insomnia: all those red raddled obeli cayennepeppercast over the text, calling unnecessary attention to errors, omissions, repetitions and misalignments:(120.9-16)The answer, to do all the diddies in one dedal, would sound: from pulling himself on his most flavoured canal the huge chesthouse of his elders (the Popapreta, and some navico, navvies!) he had flickered up and flinnered down into a drug and drunkery addict, growing megalomane of a loose past. This explains the litany of septuncial lettertrumpets honorific, highpitched, erudite, neoclassical, which he so loved as patricianly to manuscribe after his name. It would have diverted, if ever seen, the shuddersome spectacle of this semidemented zany amid the inspissated grime of his glaucous den making believe to read his usylessly unreadable Blue Book of Eccles, ??dition de t??n??bres, (even yet sighs the Most Different, Dr. Poindejenk, authorised bowdler and censor, it can't be repeated!) turning over three sheets at a wind, telling himself delightedly, no espellor mor so, that every splurge on the vellum he blundered over was an aisling vision more gorgeous than the one before t.i.t.s., a roseschelle cottage by the sea for nothing for ever, a ladies tryon hosiery raffle at liberty, a sewerful of guineagold wine with brancomongepadenopie and sickcylinder oysters worth a billion a bite, an entire operahouse(179.17-35)The flushpots of Euston and the hanging garments of Marylbone.(192.28-30)Hearasay in paradox lust(263.29-30)Can you nei do her, numb? asks Dolph, suspecting the answer know. Oikkont, ken you, ninny? asks Kev, expecting the answer guess.(286.25-27)though a day be as dense as a decade, no mouth has the might to set a mearbound to the march of a landsmaul, in half a sylb, helf a solb, holf a salb onward the beast of boredom, common sense, lurking gyrographically down inside his loose Eating S.S. Collar is gogoing of whisth to you sternly how -- Plutonic loveliaks twinnt Platonic yearlings -- you must, how, in undivided reawlity draw the line somewhawre.(292.25 -31)All moanday, tearsday, wailsday, thumpsday, frightday, shatterday till the fear of the Law.(301.20-22)Three quarks for Muster Mark!(383.1)We expect you are, honest Shaun, we agreed, but from franking machines, limricked, that in the end it may well turn out, we hear to be you, our belated, who will bear these open letter. Speak to us of Emailia.(410.20-23)The Gracehoper was always jigging ajog, hoppy on akkant of his joyicity(414.22-23)The last word in stolentelling!(424.35)He caun ne'er be bothered but maun e'er be waked. If there is a future in every past that is present Quis est qui non novit quinnigan and Qui quae quot at Quinnigan's Quake! Stump! His producers are they not his consumers? Your exagmination round his factification for incamination of a warping process. Declaim!(496.34 - 497.3)End here. Us then. Finn, again! Take. Bussoftlhee, mememormee! Till thousandsthee. Lps. The keys to. Given! A way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.(628.13 to 3.3)
Comments
HOMO!
Finnigins Wake is the shit.
Scrabble players watch out.
Come to NJ and say that. I'll shove a shillelagh up yer arse!*
* BY this I mean an actual shillelagh, not a euphemistic one, so no ayos or pasues are required**
**unless that's the bag your in.
by Matt Cook
He was stupid
He didn't know as much as me
I'd rather throw dead batteries at cows than read him
Everything was going fine before he came along
He started the Civil War
He tried to get the French involved, but they wouldn't listen
They filled him up with desserts
He talked about all the great boxers that came from Ireland
Like he trained them or something
Then he started reading some of his stuff
Right as we told him to get lost
He brought up the potato famine
We said "Your potatoes are plenty good"
"Deal with it"
"Work it out somehow"
Then he said "America must adopt the metric system,
it's much more logical"
We said "No ! We like our rulers, go away"
Thomas Jefferson said you always get the rulers you deserve
Pretty much stream-of-consciousness'd out given the last 2...
That said, I don't mind returning to 'The Dubliners' now and again...
Thumbs down for Molly
Still can't believe they made it into a film.
I'm a fan of Joyce and I appreciate the book although I understood maybe 15% of it. But the part that always gets me is the chapter that's written in questions and answers. That is truly
Can't sleep on the chapter yes that's written yes in a sleepy yes and drunken state and Molly's soliloquey yes at the end Yes.
Don't you have mold to clean up????
fanboy
I celebrate his entire catalogue....
Syphilis, dude, SYPHILIS!
Postmodernist?