Happy Third Day of the Writing, 2020

Pantocracy.                                                                   Aun   
Bimutualism.                                                                 Do
Interchangeability.                                                        Tri
Naturality.                                                                     Car
Superfetation.                                                               Cush
Stabimobilism.                                                              Shay
Periodicity.                                                                    Shockt
Consummation.                                                            Ockt
Interpenetrativeness.                                                    Ni
Predicament.                                                                Geg
Balance of the factual                                                   
by the theoric 
Boox and Coox, Amallagamated.

                                                                                      Their feed begins.


--Finnegans Wake

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Happy Second Day of the Writing, 2020

"Oftwhile balbulous, mithre ahead, with goodly trowel in grasp and ivoroiled overalls which he habitacularly fondseed, like Haroun Childeric Eggeberth he would caligulate by multiplicables the alltitude and malltitude until he seesaw by neatlight of the liquor wheretwin ’twas born, his roundhead staple of other days to rise in undress maisonry upstanded (joygrantit!), a waalworth of a skyerscape of most eyeful hoyth entowerly, erigenating from next to nothing and celescalating the himals and all, hierarchitectitiptitoploftical, with a burning bush abob off its baubletop and with larrons o’toolers clittering up and tombles a’buckets clottering down."

--Finnegans Wake

Happy First Day of the Writing, 2020

"He addle liddle phifie Annie ugged the little craythur. Wither hayre in honds tuck up your part
inher."

--Finnegans Wake

Happy New Year, 2020

“With our best youlldied greedings to Pep
and Memmy and the old folkers below and
beyant, wishing them all very merry Incar-
nations in this land of the livvey and plenty
of preprosperousness through their coming
new yonks.”

—Finnegans Wake

Happy Bloomsday, 2019

—There must be a new moon out, she said. He’s always bad then. Do you know what he did last night?

Her hand ceased to rummage. Her eyes fixed themselves on him, wide in alarm, yet smiling.

—What? Mr Bloom asked.

Let her speak. Look straight in her eyes. I believe you. Trust me.

—Woke me up in the night, she said. Dream he had, a nightmare.

Indiges.

—Said the ace of spades was walking up the stairs.

—The ace of spades! Mr Bloom said.

She took a folded postcard from her handbag.

—Read that, she said. He got it this morning.

—What is it? Mr Bloom asked, taking the card. U. P.?

—U. p: up, she said. Someone taking a rise out of him. It’s a great shame for them whoever he is.

—Indeed it is, Mr Bloom said.

She took back the card, sighing.

—And now he’s going round to Mr Menton’s office. He’s going to take an action for ten thousand pounds, he says.

She folded the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch.

Same blue serge dress she had two years ago, the nap bleaching. Seen its best days. Wispish hair over her ears. And that dowdy toque: three old grapes to take the harm out of it. Shabby genteel. She used to be a tasty dresser. Lines round her mouth. Only a year or so older than Molly.

See the eye that woman gave her, passing. Cruel. The unfair sex.

--Ulysses

Happy Third Day of the Writing, 2019 (Better Late than Never!)

Loud, graciously hear us!
Now have thy children entered into their habitations. And
nationglad, camp meeting over, to shin it, Gov be thanked! Thou
hast closed the portals of the habitations of thy children and thou
hast set thy guards thereby, even Garda Didymus and Garda
Domas, that thy children may read in the book of the opening of
the mind to light and err not in the darkness which is the after-
thought of thy nomatter by the guardiance of those guards which
are thy bodemen, the cheeryboyum chirryboth with the kerry-
bommers in their krubeems, Pray-your-Prayers Timothy and
Back-to-Bunk Tom.     Till tree from tree, tree among trees, tree over tree become stone to stone, stone between stones, stone under stone for ever.     O Loud, hear the wee beseech of thees of each of these thy un- litten ones! Grant sleep in hour's time, O Loud!     That they take no chill. That they do ming no merder. That they shall not gomeet madhowiatrees.     Loud, heap miseries upon us yet entwine our arts with laugh- ters low!     Ha he hi ho hu.     Mummum. --Finnegans Wake

Happy Second Day of the Writing, 2019

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