FOT Forum
FOT Community => General Discussion => Topic started by: Susannah on June 17, 2008, 12:11:30 AM
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I completely forgot about this today. Happy Bloomsday to all of you Joyceans--this passage from the "Lestrygonians" section of "Ulysses," where Leo Bloom remembers a picnic with Molly, always makes me cry:
"Glowing wine on his palate lingered swallowed. Crushing in the winepress grapes of Burgundy. Sun's heat it is. Seems to a secret touch telling me a memory. Touched his sense moistened remembered. Hidden under wild ferns on Howth. Below us bay sleeping sky. No sound. The sky. The bay purple by the Lion's head. Green by Drumleck. Yellowgreen towards Sutton. Fields of undersea, the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities. Pillowed on my coat she had her hair, earwigs in the heather scrub my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. O Wonder! Coolsoft with ointments her hand touched me, caressed: her eyes upon me did not turn away. Ravished over her I lay, full lips full open, kissed her mouth. Yum. Softly she gave me in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. Mawkish pulp her mouth had mumbled sweet and sour with spittle. Joy: I ate it: joy. Young life, her lips that gave me pouting. Soft, warm, sticky gumjelly lips. Flowers her eyes were, take me, willing eyes. Pebbles fell. She lay still. A goat. No-one. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Wildly I lay on her, kissed her; eyes, her lips, her stretched neck, beating, woman's breasts full in her blouse of nun's veilings, fat nipples upright. Hot I tongued her. She kissed me. I was kissed. All yielding she tossed my hair. Kissed, she kissed me.
Me. And me now."
On second thought, perhaps that was a passage more suited towards Chinatown. So it goes.
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Introibo ad altare dei!
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I meant to put, "O Jamesy let me up out of this" in my Facebook status bar, but I forgot.
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How on earth did I miss this thread?
I spent all day wishing my friends relationships just as weird as, but less terrible than, James and Nora's.
Some of them were into it, some of them weren't.
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If only there was a way to get this thread to loop around on itself, arranged so that TL's post was the first, and Susannah's was the last.
That way it could confound Humanities students a hundred years from now.
C
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Hidden under wild ferns on Howth. Below us bay sleeping sky. No sound. The sky. The bay purple by the Lion's head. Green by Drumleck. Yellowgreen towards Sutton.
We went to Howth Head on Saturday to see a few bands playing in the hills in the sun. Some played Joycean-themed songs.. the best being thinguma*jigSaw's take on Alice Cooper's 'I Love The Dead'. (!!) There were also loads of readings and weird singalongs and things in Dublin yesterday. It was the first time I've cared for Bloomsday, cos I just read it this year, but it was good fun!
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I'll remind you all again in a year. If you happen to be in the NY or Philadelphia areas, the Rosenbach Museum and Library (kind of like the Willingdome Museyroom) in Philly has annual huge celebration on DeLancey Street--readings, songs, beverages, James Joyce-themed crossword puzzles...what could be better? :)