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Catchfire
Online
Joined: Apr 16 2003

Happy Bloomsday!

'History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake' -- Stephen Dedalus


Comments

Catchfire
Online
Joined: Apr 16 2003

I fear those big words, Stephen said, which make us so unhappy.


skdadl
Offline
Joined: May 5 2001

I'd never noticed the striking resemblance to John Cleese before, but it seems somehow fitting.


N.Beltov
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Joined: May 25 2003

Dublin, June 16, 1982. There were more Joyce plays than you could shake a stick at. It was like the Fringe Festival, but all Joyce on every channel.


Catchfire
Online
Joined: Apr 16 2003

 

Steampunk Meets James Joyce

Quote:
Much like Joyce, who wrote the bulk of his works Ulysses and Finnegans Wake from his notebooks upon which were scribbled bits of conversations, languages, phrases, words that he found while walking the streets of the many cities he inhabited, I too create art from the pieces I pick up around me. All art in a sense is found art, the art of absorbing the world around you and re-creating it to find it again.

My passion for Joyce extends beyond my scholarship & continued reading of his works. For the past three years I have challenged myself to create pieces inspired by his texts. This year I combined my love of Steampunk and found object art with my ever-growing infatuation with Joyce’s Ulysses.

 


Michelle
Offline
Joined: May 10 2001

One of those items reminds me of a Christmas tree decoration I gave my mother one year.  It was made out of an old computer circuit board, and cut into a triangle, the shape of a Christmas tree.  It was pretty neat.  I only gave her one, but it was amusing to think of a whole tree made of them.  How awesomely nerdy would that be? :)


Catchfire
Online
Joined: Apr 16 2003

Quote:
the sun shines for you he said the day we were lying among the rhododendrons on Howth head in the grey tweed suit and his straw hat the day I got him to propose to me yes first I gave him the bit of seedcake out of my mouth and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long kiss I near lost my breath yes he said was a flower of the mountain yes so we are flowers all a woman’s body yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the sun shines for you today yes that was why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a woman is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could leading him on till he asked me to say yes and I wouldn’t answer first only looked out over the sea and the sky I was thinking of so many things he didn’t know of Mulvey and Mr Stanhope and Hester and father and old captain Groves and the sailors playing all birds fly and I say stoop and washing up dishes they called it on the pier and the sentry in front of the governors house with the thing round his white helmet poor devil half roasted and the Spanish girls laughing in their shawls and their tall combs and the auctions in the morning the Greeks and the Jews and the Arabs and the devil knows who else from all the ends of Europe and Duke street and the fowl market all clucking outside Larby Sharans and the poor donkeys slipping half asleep and the vague fellows in the cloaks asleep in the shade on the steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bulls and the old castle thousands of years old yes and those handsome Moors all in white and turbans like kings asking you to sit down in their little bit of a shop and Ronda with the old windows of the posadas glancing eyes a lattice hid for her lover to kiss the iron and the wineshops half open at night and the castanets and the night we missed the boat at Algeciras the watchman going about serene with his lamp and O that awful deepdown torrent O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down Jo me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

-- Ulysses, Ch. 18 "Penelope"

Happy Bloomsday!

 


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