Ulysse par jour


2012 : James Joyce « tombe », comme le veut la formule, dans le domaine public. Moment idéal pour entreprendre un projet fou : traduire ce monument, jour après jour, phrase après phrase (ou presque). Deux traductions françaises sont déjà parues : une première, en 1929, signée Auguste Morel, assisté de Stuart Gilbert, Valery Larbaud et l’auteur lui-même et une seconde en 2004, menée par une équipe d’écrivains, traducteurs et universitaires sous la direction de Jacques Aubert. On n’ira pas dans cette direction mais on ne se privera pas de se référer à l’une ou à l’autre (cf. diverses notes de bas de page). Le but du jeu, dans cet exercice, serait d’opérer, par le biais de la traduction, une sorte de piratage poétique, au sens où l’entendait par exemple Kathy Acker. Que ceux qui veulent me joindre dans la bataille s’amènent : la phrase originale est dépliable en haut de chaque page et les commentaires sont faits pour ça.

6 février 2012

#Ulysse 1

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.

7 février 2012

#Ulysse 2

A yellow dressinggown,ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air.

8 février 2012

#Ulysse 3

He held the bowl aloft and intoned :
— Introibo ad altare Dei.

9 février 2012

#Ulysse 4

Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely :
— Come up, Kinch ! Come up, you fearful jesuit !

10 février 2012

#Ulysse 5

Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest.

11 février 2012

#Ulysse 6

He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the awaking mountains.

12 février 2012

#Ulysse 7

Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head.

13 février 2012

#Ulysse 8

Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.

14 février 2012

#Ulysse 9

Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the bowl smartly.
—Back to barracks ! he said sternly.

15 février 2012

#Ulysse 10

He added in a preacher’s tone :
—For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine : body and soul and blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One moment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all.

16 février 2012

#Ulysse 11

He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here and there with gold points. Chrysostomos.

17 février 2012

#Ulysse 12

Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm.

18 février 2012

#Ulysse 13

—Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off the current, will you ?

19 février 2012

#Ulysse 14

He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher, gathering about his legs the loose folds of his gown.

20 février 2012

#Ulysse 15

The plump shadowed face and sullen oval jowl recalled a prelate, patron of arts in the middle ages.

21 février 2012

#Ulysse 16

A pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips.

22 février 2012

#Ulysse 17

—The mockery of it ! he said gaily. Your absurd name, an ancient Greek !

23 février 2012

#Ulysse 18

He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went over to the parapet, laughing to himself.

24 février 2012

#Ulysse 19

Stephen Dedalus stepped up, followed him wearily halfway and sat down on the edge of the gunrest, watching him still as he propped his mirror on the parapet, dipped the brush in the bowl and lathered cheeks and neck.

25 février 2012

#Ulysse 20

Buck Mulligan’s gay voice went on.
—My name is absurd too : Malachi Mulligan, two dactyls. But it has a Hellenic ring, hasn’t it ? Tripping and sunny like the buck himself. We must go to Athens. Will you come if I can get the aunt to fork out twenty quid ?

26 février 2012

#Ulysse 21

He laid the brush aside and, laughing with delight, cried :
—Will he come ? The jejune jesuit !

27 février 2012

#Ulysse 22

Ceasing, he began to shave with care.

28 février 2012

#Ulysse 23

—Tell me, Mulligan, Stephen said quietly.

29 février 2012

#Ulysse 24

—Yes, my love ?

1er mars 2012

#Ulysse 25

—How long is Haines going to stay in this tower ?

2 mars 2012

#Ulysse 26

Buck Mulligan showed a shaven cheek over his right shoulder.

3 mars 2012

#Ulysse 27

—God, isn’t he dreadful ? he said frankly. A ponderous Saxon.

4 mars 2012

#Ulysse 28

He thinks you’re not a gentleman. God, these bloody English ! Bursting with money and indigestion. Because he comes from Oxford.

5 mars 2012

#Ulysse 29

You know, Dedalus, you have the real Oxford manner. He can’t make you out. O, my name for you is the best : Kinch, the knife-blade.

6 mars 2012

#Ulysse 30

He shaved warily over his chin.

7 mars 2012

#Ulysse 31

—He was raving all night about a black panther, Stephen said. Where is his guncase ?

8 mars 2012

#Ulysse 32

—A woful lunatic ! Mulligan said. Were you in a funk ?

9 mars 2012

#Ulysse 33

—I was, Stephen said with energy and growing fear. Out here in the dark with a man I don’t know raving and moaning to himself about shooting a black panther.

10 mars 2012

#Ulysse 34

You saved men from drowning. I’m not a hero, however. If he stays on here I am off.

11 mars 2012

#Ulysse 35

Buck Mulligan frowned at the lather on his razorblade.

12 mars 2012

#Ulysse 36

He hopped down from his perch and began to search his trouser pockets hastily.

13 mars 2012

#Ulysse 37

—Scutter ! he cried thickly.

14 mars 2012

#Ulysse 38

He came over to the gunrest and, thrusting a hand into Stephen’s upper pocket, said :
—Lend us a loan of your noserag to wipe my razor.

15 mars 2012

#Ulysse 39

Stephen suffered him to pull out and hold up on show by its corner a dirty crumpled handkerchief.

16 mars 2012

#Ulysse 40

Buck Mulligan wiped the razorblade neatly.

17 mars 2012

#Ulysse 41

Then, gazing over the handkerchief, he said :
— The bard’s noserag ! A new art colour for our Irish poets : snotgreen. You can almost taste it, can’t you ?

18 mars 2012

#Ulysse 42

He mounted to the parapet again and gazed out over Dublin bay, his fair oakpale hair stirring slightly.

19 mars 2012

#Ulysse 43

—God ! he said quietly. Isn’t the sea what Algy calls it : a great sweet mother ? The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea. Epi oinopa ponton. Ah, Dedalus, the Greeks ! I must teach you. You must read them in the original. Thalatta ! Thalatta ! She is our great sweet mother. Come and look.

20 mars 2012

#Ulysse 44

Stephen stood up and went over to the parapet.

21 mars 2012

#Ulysse 45

Leaning on it he looked down on the water and on the mailboat clearing the harbourmouth of Kingstown.

22 mars 2012

#Ulysse 46

—Our mighty mother ! Buck Mulligan said.

23 mars 2012

#Ulysse 47

He turned abruptly his grey searching eyes from the sea to Stephen’s face.

24 mars 2012

#Ulysse 48

—The aunt thinks you killed your mother, he said. That’s why she won’t let me have anything to do with you.

25 mars 2012

#Ulysse 49

—Someone killed her, Stephen said gloomily.

26 mars 2012

#Ulysse 50

—You could have knelt down, damn it, Kinch, when your dying mother asked you, Buck Mulligan said. I’m hyperborean as much as you. But to think of your mother begging you with her last breath to kneel down and pray for her. And you refused. There is something sinister in you…

27 mars 2012

#Ulysse 51

He broke off and lathered again lightly his farther cheek.

28 mars 2012

#Ulysse 52

A tolerant smile curled his lips.

29 mars 2012

#Ulysse 53

—But a lovely mummer ! he murmured to himself. Kinch, the loveliest mummer of them all !

30 mars 2012

#Ulysse 54

He shaved evenly and with care, in silence, seriously.

31 mars 2012

#Ulysse 55

Stephen, an elbow rested on the jagged granite, leaned his palm against his brow and gazed at the fraying edge of his shiny black coatsleeve.

1er avril 2012

#Ulysse 56

Pain, that was not yet the pain of love, fretted his heart.

2 avril 2012

#Ulysse 57

Silently, in a dream she had come to him after her death, her wasted body within its loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her breath, that had bent upon him, mute, reproachful, a faint odour of wetted ashes.

3 avril 2012

#Ulysse 58

Across the threadbare cuffedge he saw the sea hailed as a great sweet mother by the wellfed voice beside him.

4 avril 2012

#Ulysse 59

The ring of bay and skyline held a dull green mass of liquid.

5 avril 2012

#Ulysse 60

A bowl of white china had stood beside her deathbed holding the green sluggish bile which she had torn up from her rotting liver by fits of loud groaning vomiting.

6 avril 2012

#Ulysse 61

Buck Mulligan wiped again his razorblade.

7 avril 2012

#Ulysse 62

—Ah, poor dogsbody ! he said in a kind voice. I must give you a shirt and a few noserags. How are the secondhand breeks ?

8 avril 2012

#Ulysse 63

—They fit well enough, Stephen answered.

9 avril 2012

#Ulysse 64

Buck Mulligan attacked the hollow beneath his underlip.

10 avril 2012

#Ulysse 65

—The mockery of it, he said contentedly. Secondleg they should be. God knows what poxy bowsy left them off. I have a lovely pair with a hair stripe, grey. You’ll look spiffing in them. I’m not joking, Kinch. You look damn well when you’re dressed.

11 avril 2012

#Ulysse 66

—Thanks, Stephen said. I can’t wear them if they are grey.

12 avril 2012

#Ulysse 67

—He can’t wear them, Buck Mulligan told his face in the mirror. Etiquette is etiquette. He kills his mother but he can’t wear grey trousers.

13 avril 2012

#Ulysse 68

He folded his razor neatly and with stroking palps of fingers felt the smooth skin.

14 avril 2012

#Ulysse 69

Stephen turned his gaze from the sea and to the plump face with its smokeblue mobile eyes.

15 avril 2012

#Ulysse 70

—That fellow I was with in the Ship last night, said Buck Mulligan, says you have g.p.i. He’s up in Dottyville with Connolly Norman. General paralysis of the insane !

16 avril 2012

#Ulysse 71

He swept the mirror a half circle in the air to flash the tidings abroad in sunlight now radiant on the sea.

17 avril 2012

#Ulysse 72

His curling shaven lips laughed and the edges of his white glittering teeth.

18 avril 2012

#Ulysse 73

Laughter seized all his strong wellknit trunk.

19 avril 2012

#Ulysse 74

—Look at yourself, he said, you dreadful bard !

20 avril 2012

#Ulysse 75

Stephen bent forward and peered at the mirror held out to him, cleft by a crooked crack. Hair on end. As he and others see me. Who chose this face for me ? This dogsbody to rid of vermin. It asks me too.

21 avril 2012

#Ulysse 76

—I pinched it out of the skivvy’s room, Buck Mulligan said. It does her all right. The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi. Lead him not into temptation. And her name is Ursula.

22 avril 2012

#Ulysse 77

Laughing again, he brought the mirror away from Stephen’s peering eyes.

23 avril 2012

#Ulysse 78

—The rage of Caliban at not seeing his face in a mirror, he said. If Wilde were only alive to see you !

24 avril 2012

#Ulysse 79

Drawing back and pointing, Stephen said with bitterness :
— It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked looking-glass of a servant.

25 avril 2012

#Ulysse 80

Buck Mulligan suddenly linked his arm in Stephen’s and walked with him round the tower, his razor and mirror clacking in the pocket where he had thrust them.

26 avril 2012

#Ulysse 81

—It’s not fair to tease you like that, Kinch, is it ? he said kindly. God knows you have more spirit than any of them.

27 avril 2012

#Ulysse 82

Parried again. He fears the lancet of my art as I fear that of his. The cold steelpen.

28 avril 2012

#Ulysse 83

—Cracked lookingglass of a servant ! Tell that to the oxy chap downstairs and touch him for a guinea. He’s stinking with money and thinks you’re not a gentleman. His old fellow made his tin by selling jalap to Zulus or some bloody swindle or other. God, Kinch, if you and I could only work together we might do something for the island. Hellenise it.

29 avril 2012

#Ulysse 84

Cranly’s arm. His arm.

30 avril 2012

#Ulysse 85

—And to think of your having to beg from these swine. I’m the only one that knows what you are. Why don’t you trust me more ? What have you up your nose against me ? Is it Haines ? If he makes any noise here I’ll bring down Seymour and we’ll give him a ragging worse than they gave Clive Kempthorpe.

1er mai 2012

#Ulysse 86

Young shouts of moneyed voices in Clive Kempthorpe’s rooms. Palefaces : they hold their ribs with laughter, one clasping another. O, I shall expire ! Break the news to her gently, Aubrey ! I shall die !

2 mai 2012

#Ulysse 87

With slit ribbons of his shirt whipping the air he hops and hobbles round the table, with trousers down at heels, chased by Ades of Magdalen with the tailor’s shears. A scared calf’s face gilded with marmalade. I don’t want to be debagged ! Don’t you play the giddy ox with me !

3 mai 2012

#Ulysse 88

Shouts from the open window startling evening in the quadrangle.

4 mai 2012

#Ulysse 89

A deaf gardener, aproned, masked with Matthew Arnold’s face, pushes his mower on the sombre lawn watching narrowly the dancing motes of grasshalms.

5 mai 2012

#Ulysse 90

To ourselves… new paganism… omphalos.

6 mai 2012

#Ulysse 91

—Let him stay, Stephen said. There’s nothing wrong with him except at night.

7 mai 2012

#Ulysse 92

—Then what is it ? Buck Mulligan asked impatiently. Cough it up. I’m quite frank with you. What have you against me now ?

8 mai 2012

#Ulysse 93

They halted, looking towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay on the water like the snout of a sleeping whale.

9 mai 2012

#Ulysse 94

Stephen freed his arm quietly.

10 mai 2012

#Ulysse 95

—Do you wish me to tell you ? he asked.

11 mai 2012

#Ulysse 96

— Yes, what is it ? Buck Mulligan answered. I don’t remember anything.

12 mai 2012

#Ulysse 97

He looked in Stephen’s face as he spoke. A light wind passed his brow, fanning softly his fair uncombed hair and stirring silver points of anxiety in his eyes.

13 mai 2012

#Ulysse 98

Stephen, depressed by his own voice, said :
—Do you remember the first day I went to your house after my
mother’s death ?

14 mai 2012

#Ulysse 99

Buck Mulligan frowned quickly and said :
—What ? Where ? I can’t remember anything. I remember only ideas
and sensations. Why ? What happened in the name of God ?

15 mai 2012

#Ulysse 100

—You were making tea, Stephen said, and went across the landing to get more hot water. Your mother and some visitor came out of the drawingroom. She asked you who was in your room.

16 mai 2012

#Ulysse 101

—Yes ? Buck Mulligan said. What did I say ? I forget.

17 mai 2012

#Ulysse 102

—You said, Stephen answered, O, it’s only Dedalus whose mother is beastly dead.

18 mai 2012

#Ulysse 103

A flush which made him seem younger and more engaging rose to Buck Mulligan’s cheek.

19 mai 2012

#Ulysse 104

20 mai 2012

#Ulysse 105

He shook his constraint from him nervously.

21 mai 2012

#Ulysse 106

—And what is death, he asked, your mother’s or yours or my own ? You saw only your mother die. I see them pop off every day in the Mater and Richmond and cut up into tripes in the dissectingroom. It’s a beastly thing and nothing else. It simply doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t kneel down to pray for your mother on her deathbed when she asked you. Why ? Because you have the cursed jesuit strain in you, only it’s injected the wrong way. To me it’s all a mockery and beastly. Her cerebral lobes are not functioning. She calls the doctor sir Peter Teazle and picks buttercups off the quilt. Humour her till it’s over. You crossed her last wish in death and yet you sulk with me because I don’t whinge like some hired mute from Lalouette’s. Absurd ! I suppose I did say it. I didn’t mean to offend the memory of your mother.

22 mai 2012

#Ulysse 107

He had spoken himself into boldness.

23 mai 2012

#Ulysse 108

Stephen, shielding the gaping wounds which the words had left in his heart, said very coldly :
—I am not thinking of the offence to my mother.

24 mai 2012

#Ulysse 109

—Of what then ? Buck Mulligan asked.

25 mai 2012

#Ulysse 110

—Of the offence to me, Stephen answered.

26 mai 2012

#Ulysse 111

Buck Mulligan swung round on his heel.

27 mai 2012

#Ulysse 112

—O, an impossible person ! he exclaimed.

28 mai 2012

#Ulysse 113

He walked off quickly round the parapet.

29 mai 2012

#Ulysse 114

Stephen stood at his post, gazing over the calm sea towards the headland.

30 mai 2012

#Ulysse 115

Sea and headland now grew dim.

31 mai 2012

#Ulysse 116

Pulses were beating in his eyes, veiling their sight, and he felt the fever of his cheeks.

1er juin 2012

#Ulysse 117

A voice within the tower called loudly :
—Are you up there, Mulligan ?

2 juin 2012

#Ulysse 118

—I’m coming, Buck Mulligan answered.

3 juin 2012

#Ulysse 119

He turned towards Stephen and said :
—Look at the sea. What does it care about offences ? Chuck Loyola, Kinch, and come on down. The Sassenach wants his morning rashers.

4 juin 2012

#Ulysse 120

His head halted again for a moment at the top of the staircase, level with the roof :
—Don’t mope over it all day, he said. I’m inconsequent. Give up the moody brooding.

5 juin 2012

#Ulysse 121

His head vanished but the drone of his descending voice boomed out of the stairhead :

And no more turn aside and brood
Upon love’s bitter mystery
For Fergus rules the brazen cars.

6 juin 2012

#Ulysse 122

Woodshadows floated silently by through the morning peace from the stairhead seaward where he gazed.

7 juin 2012

#Ulysse 123

Inshore and farther out the mirror of water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet.

8 juin 2012

#Ulysse 124

White breast of the dim sea.

9 juin 2012

#Ulysse 125

The twining stresses, two by two.

10 juin 2012

#Ulysse 126

A hand plucking the harpstrings, merging their twining chords.

11 juin 2012

#Ulysse 127

Wavewhite wedded words shimmering on the dim tide.

12 juin 2012

#Ulysse 128

A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly, shadowing the bay in deeper green.

13 juin 2012

#Ulysse 129

It lay beneath him, a bowl of bitter waters.

14 juin 2012

#Ulysse 130

Fergus’ song : I sang it alone in the house, holding down the long dark chords.

15 juin 2012

#Ulysse 131

Her door was open : she wanted to hear my music.

16 juin 2012

#Ulysse 132

Silent with awe and pity I went to her bedside.

17 juin 2012

#Ulysse 133

She was crying in her wretched bed.

18 juin 2012

#Ulysse 134

For those words, Stephen : love’s bitter mystery.

19 juin 2012

#Ulysse 135

Where now ?

20 juin 2012

#Ulysse 136

Her secrets : old featherfans, tasselled dancecards, powdered with musk, a gaud of amber beads in her locked drawer.

21 juin 2012

#Ulysse 137

A birdcage hung in the sunny window of her house when she was a girl.

22 juin 2012

#Ulysse 138

She heard old Royce sing in the pantomime of Turko the Terrible and laughed with others when he sang :

23 juin 2012

#Ulysse 139

Phantasmal mirth, folded away : muskperfumed.

24 juin 2012

#Ulysse 140

And no more turn aside and brood.

25 juin 2012

#Ulysse 141

Folded away in the memory of nature with her toys. Memories beset his brooding brain.

26 juin 2012

#Ulysse 142

Her glass of water from the kitchen tap when she had approached the sacrament.

27 juin 2012

#Ulysse 143

A cored apple, filled with brown sugar, roasting for her at the hob on a dark autumn evening.

28 juin 2012

#Ulysse 144

Her shapely fingernails reddened by the blood of squashed lice from the children’s shirts.

29 juin 2012

#Ulysse 145

In a dream, silently, she had come to him, her wasted body within its loose graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her breath, bent over him with mute secret words, a faint odour of wetted ash

30 juin 2012

#Ulysse 146

Her glazing eyes, staring out of death, to shake and bend my soul.

1er juillet 2012

#Ulysse 147

On me alone.

2 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 148

The ghostcandle to light her agony. Ghostly light on the tortured face.

3 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 149

Her hoarse loud breath rattling in horror, while all prayed on their knees.

4 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 150

Her eyes on me to strike me down.

5 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 151

Liliata rutilantium te confessorum
turma circumdet : iubilantium te virginum chorus excipiat.

6 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 152

Ghoul ! Chewer of corpses !

7 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 153

No, mother ! Let me be and let me live.

8 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 154

—Kinch ahoy !

9 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 155

Buck Mulligan’s voice sang from within the tower. It came nearer up the staircase, calling again.

10 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 156

Stephen, still trembling at his soul’s cry, heard warm running sunlight and in the air behind him friendly words.

11 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 157

—Dedalus, come down, like a good mosey. Breakfast is ready. Haines is apologising for waking us last night. It’s all right.

12 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 158

—I’m coming, Stephen said, turning.

13 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 159

—Do, for Jesus’ sake, Buck Mulligan said. For my sake and for all our sakes.

14 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 160

His head disappeared and reappeared.
—I told him your symbol of Irish art. He says it’s very clever. Touch him for a quid, will you ? A guinea, I mean.

15 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 161

—I get paid this morning, Stephen said.

16 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 162

—The school kip ? Buck Mulligan said. How much ? Four quid ? Lend us one.

17 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 163

—If you want it, Stephen said.

18 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 164

—Four shining sovereigns, Buck Mulligan cried with delight. We’ll have a glorious drunk to astonish the druidy druids. Four omnipotent sovereigns.

19 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 165

He flung up his hands and tramped down the stone stairs, singing out of tune with a Cockney accent :

O, won’t we have a merry time,
Drinking whisky, beer and wine !
On coronation,
Coronation day !
O, won’t we have a merry time
On coronation day !

20 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 166

Warm sunshine merrying over the sea.

21 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 167

The nickel shavingbowl shone, forgotten, on the parapet. Why should I bring it down ? Or leave it there all day, forgotten friendship ?

22 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 168

He went over to it, held it in his hands awhile, feeling its coolness, smelling the clammy slaver of the lather in which the brush was stuck.

23 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 169

So I carried the boat of incense then at Clongowes. I am another now and yet the same. A servant too. A server of a servant.

24 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 170

In the gloomy domed livingroom of the tower Buck Mulligan’s gowned form moved briskly to and fro about the hearth, hiding and revealing its yellow glow.

25 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 171

Two shafts of soft daylight fell across the flagged floor from the high barbacans : and at the meeting of their rays a cloud of coalsmoke and fumes of fried grease floated, turning.

26 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 172

—We’ll be choked, Buck Mulligan said. Haines, open that door, will you ?

27 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 173

Stephen laid the shavingbowl on the locker. A tall figure rose from the hammock where it had been sitting, went to the doorway and pulled open the inner doors.

28 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 174

—Have you the key ? a voice asked.

29 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 175

—Dedalus has it, Buck Mulligan said. Janey Mack, I’m choked !

30 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 176

He howled, without looking up from the fire :
—Kinch !

31 juillet 2012

#Ulysse 177

—It’s in the lock, Stephen said, coming forward.

1er août 2012

#Ulysse 178

The key scraped round harshly twice and, when the heavy door had been set ajar, welcome light and bright air entered.

2 août 2012

#Ulysse 179

Haines stood at the doorway, looking out. Stephen haled his upended valise to the table and sat down to wait.

3 août 2012

#Ulysse 180

Buck Mulligan tossed the fry on to the dish beside him. Then he carried the dish and a large teapot over to the table, set them down heavily and sighed with relief.

4 août 2012

#Ulysse 181

—I’m melting, he said, as the candle remarked when… But, hush ! Not a word more on that subject ! Kinch, wake up ! Bread, butter, honey. Haines, come in. The grub is ready. Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts. Where’s the sugar ? O, jay, there’s no milk.

5 août 2012

#Ulysse 182

Stephen fetched the loaf and the pot of honey and the buttercooler from the locker. Buck Mulligan sat down in a sudden pet.

6 août 2012

#Ulysse 183

—What sort of a kip is this ? he said. I told her to come after eight.

8 août 2012

#Ulysse 184

—We can drink it black, Stephen said thirstily. There’s a lemon in the locker.

8 août 2012

#Ulysse 185

—O, damn you and your Paris fads ! Buck Mulligan said. I want Sandycove milk.

9 août 2012

#Ulysse 186

Haines came in from the doorway and said quietly :
—That woman is coming up with the milk.

10 août 2012

#Ulysse 187

—The blessings of God on you ! Buck Mulligan cried, jumping up from his chair. Sit down. Pour out the tea there. The sugar is in the bag. Here, I can’t go fumbling at the damned eggs.

11 août 2012

#Ulysse 188

He hacked through the fry on the dish and slapped it out on three plates, saying :
In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.

12 août 2012

#Ulysse 189

Haines sat down to pour out the tea.
—I’m giving you two lumps each, he said. But, I say, Mulligan, you do make strong tea, don’t you ?

13 août 2012

#Ulysse 190

Buck Mulligan, hewing thick slices from the loaf, said in an old woman’s wheedling voice :
—When I makes tea I makes tea, as old mother Grogan said. And when I makes water I makes water.

14 août 2012

#Ulysse 191

—By Jove, it is tea, Haines said.

15 août 2012

#Ulysse 192

Buck Mulligan went on hewing and wheedling :
So I do, Mrs Cahill, says she. Begob, ma’am, says Mrs Cahill, God send you don’t make them in the one pot.

16 août 2012

#Ulysse 193

He lunged towards his messmates in turn a thick slice of bread, impaled on his knife.

17 août 2012

#Ulysse 194

—That’s folk, he said very earnestly, for your book, Haines. Five lines of text and ten pages of notes about the folk and the fishgods of Dundrum. Printed by the weird sisters in the year of the big wind.

18 août 2012

#Ulysse 195

He turned to Stephen and asked in a fine puzzled voice, lifting his brows :
—Can you recall, brother, is mother Grogan’s tea and water pot spoken of in the Mabinogion or is it in the Upanishads ?

19 août 2012

#Ulysse 196

—I doubt it, said Stephen gravely.

20 août 2012

#Ulysse 197

—Do you now ? Buck Mulligan said in the same tone. Your reasons, pray ?

21 août 2012

#Ulysse 198

—I fancy, Stephen said as he ate, it did not exist in or out of the Mabinogion. Mother Grogan was, one imagines, a kinswoman of Mary Ann.

22 août 2012

#Ulysse 199

Buck Mulligan’s face smiled with delight.
—Charming ! he said in a finical sweet voice, showing his white teeth and blinking his eyes pleasantly. Do you think she was ? Quite charming !

23 août 2012

#Ulysse 200

Then, suddenly overclouding all his features, he growled in a hoarsened rasping voice as he hewed again vigorously at the loaf :

—For old Mary Ann
She doesn’t care a damn.
But, hising up her petticoats…

24 août 2012

#Ulysse 201

He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned.

25 août 2012

#Ulysse 202

The doorway was darkened by an entering form.
—The milk, sir !

26 août 2012

#Ulysse 203

—Come in, ma’am, Mulligan said. Kinch, get the jug.

27 août 2012

#Ulysse 204

An old woman came forward and stood by Stephen’s elbow.
—That’s a lovely morning, sir, she said. Glory be to God.

28 août 2012

#Ulysse 205

—To whom ? Mulligan said, glancing at her. Ah, to be sure !

29 août 2012

#Ulysse 206

Stephen reached back and took the milkjug from the locker.

30 août 2012

#Ulysse 207

—The islanders, Mulligan said to Haines casually, speak frequently of the collector of prepuces.

31 août 2012

#Ulysse 208

—How much, sir ? asked the old woman.

1er septembre 2012

#Ulysse 209

—A quart, Stephen said.

2 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 210

He watched her pour into the measure and thence into the jug rich white milk, not hers. Old shrunken paps.

3 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 211

She poured again a measureful and a tilly.

4 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 212

Old and secret she had entered from a morning world, maybe a messenger. She praised the goodness of the milk, pouring it out.

5 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 213

Crouching by a patient cow at daybreak in the lush field, a witch on her toadstool, her wrinkled fingers quick at the squirting dugs.

6 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 214

They lowed about her whom they knew, dewsilky cattle. Silk of the kine and poor old woman, names given her in old times.

7 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 215

A wandering crone, lowly form of an immortal serving her conqueror and her gay betrayer, their common cuckquean, a messenger from the secret morning.

8 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 216

To serve or to upbraid, whether he could not tell : but scorned to beg her favour.

9 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 217

—It is indeed, ma’am, Buck Mulligan said, pouring milk into their cups.

10 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 218

—Taste it, sir, she said.
He drank at her bidding.

11 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 219

—If we could live on good food like that, he said to her somewhat loudly, we wouldn’t have the country full of rotten teeth and rotten guts. Living in a bogswamp, eating cheap food and the streets paved with dust, horsedung and consumptives’ spits.

12 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 220

—Are you a medical student, sir ? the old woman asked.

13 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 221

—I am, ma’am, Buck Mulligan answered.

14 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 222

—Look at that now, she said.

15 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 223

Stephen listened in scornful silence.

16 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 224

She bows her old head to a voice that speaks to her loudly, her bonesetter, her medicineman : me she slights. To the voice that will shrive and oil for the grave all there is of her but her woman’s unclean loins, of man’s flesh made not in God’s likeness, the serpent’s prey. And to the loud voice that now bids her be silent with wondering unsteady eyes.

17 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 225

—Do you understand what he says ? Stephen asked her.

18 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 226

—Is it French you are talking, sir ? the old woman said to Haines.
Haines spoke to her again a longer speech, confidently.

19 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 227

—Irish, Buck Mulligan said. Is there Gaelic on you ?

20 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 228

—I thought it was Irish, she said, by the sound of it. Are you from the west, sir ?

21 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 229

—I am an Englishman, Haines answered.

22 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 230

—He’s English, Buck Mulligan said, and he thinks we ought to speak Irish in Ireland.

23 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 231

—Sure we ought to, the old woman said, and I’m ashamed I don’t speak the language myself. I’m told it’s a grand language by them that knows.

24 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 232

—Grand is no name for it, said Buck Mulligan. Wonderful entirely. Fill us out some more tea, Kinch. Would you like a cup, ma’am ?

25 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 233

—No, thank you, sir, the old woman said, slipping the ring of the milkcan on her forearm and about to go.

26 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 234

Haines said to her :
—Have you your bill ? We had better pay her, Mulligan, hadn’t we ?

27 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 235

Stephen filled again the three cups.

28 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 236

—Bill, sir ? she said, halting. Well, it’s seven mornings a pint at twopence is seven twos is a shilling and twopence over and these three mornings a quart at fourpence is three quarts is a shilling. That’s a shilling and one and two is two and two, sir.

29 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 237

Buck Mulligan sighed and, having filled his mouth with a crust thickly buttered on both sides, stretched forth his legs and began to search his trouser pockets.

30 septembre 2012

#Ulysse 238

—Pay up and look pleasant, Haines said to him, smiling.

1er octobre 2012

#Ulysse 239

Stephen filled a third cup, a spoonful of tea colouring faintly the thick rich milk.

2 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 240

Buck Mulligan brought up a florin, twisted it round in his fingers and cried :
—A miracle !

3 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 241

He passed it along the table towards the old woman, saying :
—Ask nothing more of me, sweet. All I can give you I give.

4 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 242

Stephen laid the coin in her uneager hand.
—We’ll owe twopence, he said.

5 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 243

—Time enough, sir, she said, taking the coin. Time enough. Good morning, sir.

7 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 244

She curtseyed and went out, followed by Buck Mulligan’s tender chant :
—Heart of my heart, were it more,
More would be laid at your feet.

7 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 245

He turned to Stephen and said :
—Seriously, Dedalus. I’m stony. Hurry out to your school kip and bring us back some money. Today the bards must drink and junket. Ireland expects that every man this day will do his duty.

8 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 246

—That reminds me, Haines said, rising, that I have to visit your national library today.

9 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 247

—Our swim first, Buck Mulligan said.
He turned to Stephen and asked blandly :
—Is this the day for your monthly wash, Kinch ?
Then he said to Haines :
—The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month.

10 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 248

—All Ireland is washed by the gulfstream, Stephen said as he let honey trickle over a slice of the loaf.

11 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 249

Haines from the corner where he was knotting easily a scarf about the loose collar of his tennis shirt spoke :
—I intend to make a collection of your sayings if you will let me.

12 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 250

Speaking to me. They wash and tub and scrub. Agenbite of inwit. Conscience. Yet here’s a spot.

13 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 251

—That one about the cracked lookingglass of a servant being the symbol of Irish art is deuced good.

14 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 252

Buck Mulligan kicked Stephen’s foot under the table and said with warmth of tone :
—Wait till you hear him on Hamlet, Haines.

15 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 253

—Well, I mean it, Haines said, still speaking to Stephen. I was just thinking of it when that poor old creature came in.

16 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 254

—Would I make any money by it ? Stephen asked.

17 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 255

Haines laughed and, as he took his soft grey hat from the holdfast of the hammock, said :
—I don’t know, I’m sure.

18 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 256

He strolled out to the doorway. Buck Mulligan bent across to Stephen and said with coarse vigour :
—You put your hoof in it now. What did you say that for ?

19 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 257

—Well ? Stephen said. The problem is to get money. From whom ? From the milkwoman or from him. It’s a toss up, I think.

20 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 258

—I blow him out about you, Buck Mulligan said, and then you come along with your lousy leer and your gloomy jesuit jibes.

21 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 259

—I see little hope, Stephen said, from her or from him.

22 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 260

Buck Mulligan sighed tragically and laid his hand on Stephen’s arm.
—From me, Kinch, he said.
In a suddenly changed tone he added :
—To tell you the God’s truth I think you’re right. Damn all else they are good for. Why don’t you play them as I do ? To hell with them all. Let us get out of the kip.

23 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 261

He stood up, gravely ungirdled and disrobed himself of his gown, saying resignedly :
—Mulligan is stripped of his garments.
He emptied his pockets on to the table.
—There’s your snotrag, he said.

24 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 262

And putting on his stiff collar and rebellious tie he spoke to them, chiding them, and to his dangling watchchain. His hands plunged and rummaged in his trunk while he called for a clean handkerchief. God, we’ll simply have to dress the character. I want puce gloves and green boots. Contradiction. Do I contradict myself ? Very well then, I contradict myself. Mercurial Malachi. A limp black missile flew out of his talking hands.
—And there’s your Latin quarter hat, he said.

25 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 263

Stephen picked it up and put it on.

26 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 264

Haines called to them from the doorway :
—Are you coming, you fellows ?

27 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 265

—I’m ready, Buck Mulligan answered, going towards the door. Come out, Kinch. You have eaten all we left, I suppose.

28 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 266

Resigned he passed out with grave words and gait, saying, wellnigh with sorrow :
—And going forth he met Butterly.

29 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 267

Stephen, taking his ashplant from its leaningplace, followed them out and, as they went down the ladder, pulled to the slow iron door and locked it. He put the huge key in his inner pocket.

30 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 268

At the foot of the ladder Buck Mulligan asked :
—Did you bring the key ?

31 octobre 2012

#Ulysse 269

—I have it, Stephen said, preceding them.

1er novembre 2012

#Ulysse 270

He walked on. Behind him he heard Buck Mulligan club with his heavy bathtowel the leader shoots of ferns or grasses.
—Down, sir ! How dare you, sir !

2 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 271

—Do you pay rent for this tower ?

3 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 272

—Twelve quid, Buck Mulligan said.

4 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 273

—To the secretary of state for war, Stephen added over his shoulder.

5 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 274

They halted while Haines surveyed the tower and said at last :
—Rather bleak in wintertime, I should say. Martello you call it ?

6 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 275

—Billy Pitt had them built, Buck Mulligan said, when the French were on the sea. But ours is the omphalos.

7 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 276

—What is your idea of Hamlet ? Haines asked Stephen.

8 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 277

—No, no, Buck Mulligan shouted in pain. I’m not equal to Thomas Aquinas and the fiftyfive reasons he has made out to prop it up. Wait till I have a few pints in me first.

9 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 278

He turned to Stephen, saying, as he pulled down neatly the peaks of his primrose waistcoat :
—You couldn’t manage it under three pints, Kinch, could you ?

10 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 279

—It has waited so long, Stephen said listlessly, it can wait longer.

11 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 280

—You pique my curiosity, Haines said amiably. Is it some paradox ?

12 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 281

—Pooh ! Buck Mulligan said. We have grown out of Wilde and paradoxes. It’s quite simple. He proves by algebra that Hamlet’s grandson is Shakespeare’s grandfather and that he himself is the ghost of his own father.

13 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 282

—What ? Haines said, beginning to point at Stephen. He himself ?

14 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 283

Buck Mulligan slung his towel stolewise round his neck and, bending in loose laughter, said to Stephen’s ear :
—O, shade of Kinch the elder ! Japhet in search of a father !

15 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 284

We’re always tired in the morning, Stephen said to Haines. And it is rather long to tell.

16 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 285

Buck Mulligan, walking forward again, raised his hands.
—The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue of Dedalus, he said.

17 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 286

—I mean to say, Haines explained to Stephen as they followed, this tower and these cliffs here remind me somehow of Elsinore. That beetles o’er his base into the sea, isn’t it ?

18 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 287

Buck Mulligan turned suddenly for an instant towards Stephen but did not speak. In the bright silent instant Stephen saw his own image in cheap dusty mourning between their gay attires.

19 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 288

—It’s a wonderful tale, Haines said, bringing them to halt again.

20 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 289

Eyes, pale as the sea the wind had freshened, paler, firm and prudent. The seas’ ruler, he gazed southward over the bay, empty save for the smokeplume of the mailboat vague on the bright skyline and a sail tacking by the Muglins.

21 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 290

—I read a theological interpretation of it somewhere, he said bemused. The Father and the Son idea. The Son striving to be atoned with the Father.

22 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 291

Buck Mulligan at once put on a blithe broadly smiling face. He looked at them, his wellshaped mouth open happily, his eyes, from which he had suddenly withdrawn all shrewd sense, blinking with mad gaiety.

23 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 292

He moved a doll’s head to and fro, the brims of his Panama hat quivering, and began to chant in a quiet happy foolish voice :

—I’m the queerest young fellow that ever you heard.
My mother’s a jew, my father’s a bird.
With Joseph the joiner I cannot agree.
So here’s to disciples and Calvary.

24 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 293

He held up a forefinger of warning.

—If anyone thinks that I amn’t divine
He’ll get no free drinks when I’m making the wine
But have to drink water and wish it were plain
That i make when the wine becomes water again.

25 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 294

He tugged swiftly at Stephen’s ashplant in farewell and, running forward to a brow of the cliff, fluttered his hands at his sides like fins or wings of one about to rise in the air, and chanted :

—Goodbye, now, goodbye ! Write down all I said
And tell Tom, Dick and Harry I rose from the dead.
What’s bred in the bone cannot fail me to fly
And Olivet’s breezy… Goodbye, now, goodbye !

26 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 295

He capered before them down towards the fortyfoot hole, fluttering his winglike hands, leaping nimbly, Mercury’s hat quivering in the fresh wind that bore back to them his brief birdsweet cries.

27 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 296

Haines, who had been laughing guardedly, walked on beside Stephen and said :
—We oughtn’t to laugh, I suppose. He’s rather blasphemous. I’m not a believer myself, that is to say. Still his gaiety takes the harm out of it somehow, doesn’t it ? What did he call it ? Joseph the Joiner ?

28 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 297

—The ballad of joking Jesus, Stephen answered.

29 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 298

—O, Haines said, you have heard it before ?

30 novembre 2012

#Ulysse 299

—Three times a day, after meals, Stephen said drily.

1er décembre 2012

#Ulysse 300

—You’re not a believer, are you ? Haines asked. I mean, a believer in the narrow sense of the word. Creation from nothing and miracles and a personal God.

2 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 301

—There’s only one sense of the word, it seems to me, Stephen said.

3 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 302

Haines stopped to take out a smooth silver case in which twinkled a green stone. He sprang it open with his thumb and offered it.

4 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 303

—Thank you, Stephen said, taking a cigarette.

5 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 304

Haines helped himself and snapped the case to. He put it back in his sidepocket and took from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderbox, sprang it open too, and, having lit his cigarette, held the flaming spunk towards Stephen in the shell of his hands.

6 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 305

—Yes, of course, he said, as they went on again. Either you believe or you don’t, isn’t it ? Personally I couldn’t stomach that idea of a personal God. You don’t stand for that, I suppose ?

7 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 306

—You behold in me, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a horrible example of free thought.

8 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 307

He walked on, waiting to be spoken to, trailing his ashplant by his side.

9 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 308

Its ferrule followed lightly on the path, squealing at his heels. My familiar, after me, calling, Steeeeeeeeeeeephen ! A wavering line along the path.

10 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 309

They will walk on it tonight, coming here in the dark. He wants that key. It is mine. I paid the rent. Now I eat his salt bread. Give him the key too. All. He will ask for it. That was in his eyes.

11 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 310

—After all, Haines began…

12 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 311

Stephen turned and saw that the cold gaze which had measured him was not all unkind.

13 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 312

—After all, I should think you are able to free yourself. You are your own master, it seems to me.

14 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 313

—I am a servant of two masters, Stephen said, an English and an Italian.

15 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 314

—Italian ? Haines said.

16 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 315

A crazy queen, old and jealous. Kneel down before me.

17 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 316

—And a third, Stephen said, there is who wants me for odd jobs.

18 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 317

—Italian ? Haines said again. What do you mean ?

19 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 318

—The imperial British state, Stephen answered, his colour rising, and the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church.

20 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 319

Haines detached from his underlip some fibres of tobacco before he spoke.
— I can quite understand that, he said calmly. An Irishman must think like that, I daresay. We feel in England that we have treated you rather unfairly. It seems history is to blame.

21 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 320

The proud potent titles clanged over Stephen’s memory the triumph of their brazen bells : et unam sanctam catholicam et apostolicam ecclesiam : the slow growth and change of rite and dogma like his own rare thoughts, a chemistry of stars.

22 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 321

Symbol of the apostles in the mass for pope Marcellus, the voices blended, singing alone loud in affirmation : and behind their chant the vigilant angel of the church militant disarmed and menaced her heresiarchs. A horde of heresies fleeing with mitres awry : Photius and the brood of mockers of whom Mulligan was one, and Arius, warring his life long upon the consubstantiality of the Son with the Father, and Valentine, spurning Christ’s terrene body, and the subtle African heresiarch Sabellius who held that the Father was Himself His own Son.

23 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 322

Words Mulligan had spoken a moment since in mockery to the stranger. Idle mockery. The void awaits surely all them that weave the wind : a menace, a disarming and a worsting from those embattled angels of the church, Michael’s host, who defend her ever in the hour of conflict with their lances and their shields.

24 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 323

Hear, hear ! Prolonged applause. Zut ! Nom de Dieu !

25 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 324

—Of course I’m a Britisher, Haines’s voice said, and I feel as one. I don’t want to see my country fall into the hands of German jews either. That’s our national problem, I’m afraid, just now.

26 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 325

Two men stood at the verge of the cliff, watching : businessman, boatman.

27 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 326

—She’s making for Bullock harbour.

28 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 327

The boatman nodded towards the north of the bay with some disdain.
— There’s five fathoms out there, he said. It’ll be swept up that way when the tide comes in about one. It’s nine days today.

29 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 328

The man that was drowned. A sail veering about the blank bay waiting for a swollen bundle to bob up, roll over to the sun a puffy face, saltwhite. Here I am.

30 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 329

They followed the winding path down to the creek.

31 décembre 2012

#Ulysse 330

Buck Mulligan stood on a stone, in shirtsleeves, his unclipped tie rippling over his shoulder. A young man clinging to a spur of rock near him, moved slowly frogwise his green legs in the deep jelly of the water.
— Is the brother with you, Malachi ?

1er janvier 2013

#Ulysse 331

—Down in Westmeath. With the Bannons.

2 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 332

—Still there ? I got a card from Bannon. Says he found a sweet young thing down there. Photo girl he calls her.

3 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 333

—Snapshot, eh ? Brief exposure.

4 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 334

Buck Mulligan sat down to unlace his boots.

5 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 335

An elderly man shot up near the spur of rock a blowing red face. He scrambled up by the stones, water glistening on his pate and on its garland of grey hair, water rilling over his chest and paunch and spilling jets out of his black sagging loincloth.

6 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 336

Buck Mulligan made way for him to scramble past and, glancing at Haines and Stephen, crossed himself piously with his thumbnail at brow and lips and breastbone.

7 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 337

—Seymour’s back in town, the young man said, grasping again his spur of rock. Chucked medicine and going in for the army.

8 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 338

—Ah, go to God ! Buck Mulligan said.

9 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 339

—Going over next week to stew. You know that red Carlisle girl, Lily ?

10 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 340


11 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 341

—Spooning with him last night on the pier. The father is rotto with money.

12 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 342

—Is she up the pole ?

13 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 343

—Better ask Seymour that.

14 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 344

—Seymour a bleeding officer ! Buck Mulligan said.

15 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 345

He nodded to himself as he drew off his trousers and stood up, saying tritely :
— Redheaded women buck like goats.

16 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 346

He broke off in alarm, feeling his side under his flapping shirt.
— My twelfth rib is gone, he cried. I’m the Uebermensch. Toothless Kinch and I, the supermen.

17 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 347

Il se débarrasse du T-Shirt
qu’il balance derrière lui où ses autres fringues sont.

18 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 348

—Are you going in here, Malachi ?

19 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 349

—Yes. Make room in the bed.

20 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 350

The young man shoved himself backward through the water and reached the middle of the creek in two long clean strokes.

21 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 351

Haines sat down on a stone, smoking.

22 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 352

—Are you not coming in ? Buck Mulligan asked.

23 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 353

—Later on, Haines said. Not on my breakfast.

24 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 354

Stephen turned away.
— I’m going, Mulligan, he said.

25 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 355

—Give us that key, Kinch, Buck Mulligan said, to keep my chemise

26 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 356

Stephen handed him the key. Buck Mulligan laid it across his heaped clothes.
— And twopence, he said, for a pint. Throw it there.

27 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 357

Stephen threw two pennies on the soft heap. Dressing, undressing.

28 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 358

Buck Mulligan erect, with joined hands before him, said solemnly :
— He who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord. Thus spake Zarathustra.

29 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 359

His plump body plunged.

30 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 360

—We’ll see you again, Haines said, turning as Stephen walked up the path and smiling at wild Irish. Horn of a bull, hoof of a horse, smile of a Saxon.

31 janvier 2013

#Ulysse 361

—The Ship, Buck Mulligan cried. Half twelve.

1er février 2013

#Ulysse 362

—Good, Stephen said.

2 février 2013

#Ulysse 363

He walked along the upwardcurving path.

3 février 2013

#Ulysse 364

Liliata rutilantium.
Turma circumdet.
Iubilantium te virginum.

The priest’s grey nimbus in a niche where he dressed discreetly. I will not sleep here tonight. Home also I cannot go.

4 février 2013

#Ulysse 365

A voice, sweettoned and sustained, called to him from the sea. Turning the curve he waved his hand. It called again. A sleek brown head, a seal’s, far out on the water, round. Usurper.

5 février 2013

#Ulysse 366

—You, Cochrane, what city sent for him ?

6 février 2013

#Ulysse 367

—Tarentum, sir.

7 février 2013

#Ulysse 368

—Very good. Well ?

8 février 2013

#Ulysse 369

—There was a battle, sir.

9 février 2013

#Ulysse 370

—Very good. Where ?

10 février 2013

#Ulysse 371

The boy’s blank face asked the blank window.

11 février 2013

#Ulysse 372

Fabled by the daughters of memory. And yet it was in some way if not as memory fabled it. A phrase, then, of impatience, thud of Blake’s wings of excess. I hear the ruin of all space, shattered glass and toppling masonry, and time one livid final flame. What’s left us then ?

12 février 2013

#Ulysse 373

—I forget the place, sir. 279 B. C.

13 février 2013

#Ulysse 374

—Asculum, Stephen said, glancing at the name and date in the gorescarred book.

14 février 2013

#Ulysse 375

—Yes, sir. And he said : Another victory like that and we are done for.

15 février 2013

#Ulysse 376

That phrase the world had remembered. A dull ease of the mind. From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his officers, leaned upon his spear. Any general to any officers. They lend ear.

16 février 2013

#Ulysse 377

—You, Armstrong, Stephen said. What was the end of Pyrrhus ?

17 février 2013

#Ulysse 378

—End of Pyrrhus, sir ?

18 février 2013

#Ulysse 379

—I know, sir. Ask me, sir, Comyn said.

19 février 2013

#Ulysse 380

—Wait. You, Armstrong. Do you know anything about Pyrrhus ?

20 février 2013

#Ulysse 381

A bag of figrolls lay snugly in Armstrong’s satchel. He curled them between his palms at whiles and swallowed them softly. Crumbs adhered to the tissue of his lips. A sweetened boy’s breath. Welloff people, proud that their eldest son was in the navy. Vico road, Dalkey.

21 février 2013

#Ulysse 382

—Pyrrhus, sir ? Pyrrhus, a pier.

22 février 2013

#Ulysse 383

All laughed. Mirthless high malicious laughter. Armstrong looked round at his classmates, silly glee in profile. In a moment they will laugh more loudly, aware of my lack of rule and of the fees their papas pay.

23 février 2013

#Ulysse 384

—Tell me now, Stephen said, poking the boy’s shoulder with the book, what is a pier.

24 février 2013

#Ulysse 385

—A pier, sir, Armstrong said. A thing out in the water. A kind of a bridge. Kingstown pier, sir.

25 février 2013

#Ulysse 386

Some laughed again : mirthless but with meaning. Two in the back bench whispered. Yes. They knew : had never learned nor ever been innocent. All.

26 février 2013

#Ulysse 387

—Kingstown pier, Stephen said. Yes, a disappointed bridge.

27 février 2013

#Ulysse 388

The words troubled their gaze.
— How, sir ? Comyn asked. A bridge is across a river.

28 février 2013

#Ulysse 389

For Haines’s chapbook. No-one here to hear.

1er mars 2013

#Ulysse 390

Tonight deftly amid wild drink and talk, to pierce the polished mail of his mind. What then ? A jester at the court of his master, indulged and disesteemed, winning a clement master’s praise. Why had they chosen all that part ? Not wholly for the smooth caress. For them too history was a tale like any other too often heard, their land a pawnshop.

2 mars 2013

#Ulysse 391

Had Pyrrhus not fallen by a beldam’s hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been knifed to death. They are not to be thought away. Time has branded them and fettered they are lodged in the room of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. But can those have been possible seeing that they never were ? Or was that only possible which came to pass ? Weave, weaver of the wind.

3 mars 2013

#Ulysse 392

—Tell us a story, sir.

4 mars 2013

#Ulysse 393

—O, do, sir. A ghoststory.

5 mars 2013

#Ulysse 394

—Where do you begin in this ? Stephen asked, opening another book.

6 mars 2013

#Ulysse 395

—Weep no more, Comyn said.

7 mars 2013

#Ulysse 396

—Go on then, Talbot.

8 mars 2013

#Ulysse 397

—And the story, sir ?

9 mars 2013

#Ulysse 398

—After, Stephen said. Go on, Talbot.

10 mars 2013

#Ulysse 399

A swarthy boy opened a book and propped it nimbly under the breastwork of his satchel. He recited jerks of verse with odd glances at the text :

—Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more
For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor…

11 mars 2013

#Ulysse 400

It must be a movement then, an actuality of the possible as possible. Aristotle’s phrase formed itself within the gabbled verses and floated out into the studious silence of the library of Saint Genevieve where he had read, sheltered from the sin of Paris, night by night.

12 mars 2013

#Ulysse 401

By his elbow a delicate Siamese conned a handbook of strategy.

13 mars 2013

#Ulysse 402

Fed and feeding brains about me : under glowlamps, impaled, with faintly beating feelers : and in my mind’s darkness a sloth of the underworld, reluctant, shy of brightness, shifting her dragon scaly folds.

14 mars 2013

#Ulysse 403

Thought is the thought of thought. Tranquil brightness. The soul is in a manner all that is : the soul is the form of forms. Tranquility sudden, vast, candescent : form of forms.

15 mars 2013

#Ulysse 404

Talbot repeated :
—Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves,
Through the dear might…

16 mars 2013

#Ulysse 405

—Turn over, Stephen said quietly. I don’t see anything.

17 mars 2013

#Ulysse 406

—What, sir ? Talbot asked simply, bending forward.

18 mars 2013

#Ulysse 407

His hand turned the page over. He leaned back and went on again, having just remembered. Of him that walked the waves.

19 mars 2013

#Ulysse 408

Here also over these craven hearts his shadow lies and on the scoffer’s heart and lips and on mine.

20 mars 2013

#Ulysse 409

21 mars 2013

#Ulysse 410

To Caesar what is Caesar’s, to God what is God’s. A long look from dark eyes, a riddling sentence to be woven and woven on the church’s looms. Ay.

22 mars 2013

#Ulysse 411

Riddle me, riddle me, randy ro.
My father gave me seeds to sow.

23 mars 2013

#Ulysse 412

Talbot slid his closed book into his satchel.

24 mars 2013

#Ulysse 413

—Have I heard all ? Stephen asked.

25 mars 2013

#Ulysse 414

—Yes, sir. Hockey at ten, sir.

26 mars 2013

#Ulysse 415

—Half day, sir. Thursday.

27 mars 2013

#Ulysse 416

—Who can answer a riddle ? Stephen asked.

28 mars 2013

#Ulysse 417

They bundled their books away, pencils clacking, pages rustling. Crowding together they strapped and buckled their satchels, all gabbling gaily :
— A riddle, sir ? Ask me, sir.

29 mars 2013

#Ulysse 418

—O, ask me, sir.

30 mars 2013

#Ulysse 419

—A hard one, sir.

31 mars 2013

#Ulysse 420

—This is the riddle, Stephen said :

The cock crew,
The sky was blue :
The bells in heaven
Were striking eleven.
’Tis time for this poor soul
To go to heaven.

What is that ?

1er avril 2013

#Ulysse 421

—What, sir ?

2 avril 2013

#Ulysse 422

—Again, sir. We didn’t hear.

3 avril 2013

#Ulysse 423

Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated. After a silence Cochrane said :
— What is it, sir ? We give it up.

4 avril 2013

#Ulysse 424

Stephen, his throat itching, answered :
— The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush.

5 avril 2013

#Ulysse 425

He stood up and gave a shout of nervous laughter to which their cries echoed dismay.

6 avril 2013

#Ulysse 426

A stick struck the door and a voice in the corridor called :
— Hockey !

7 avril 2013

#Ulysse 427

They broke asunder, sidling out of their benches, leaping them.

8 avril 2013

#Ulysse 428

Quickly they were gone and from the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks and clamour of their boots and tongues.

9 avril 2013

#Ulysse 429

Sargent who alone had lingered came forward slowly, showing an open copybook. His thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his misty glasses weak eyes looked up pleading. On his cheek, dull and bloodless, a soft stain of ink lay, dateshaped, recent and damp as a snail’s bed.

10 avril 2013

#Ulysse 430

He held out his copybook. The word Sums was written on the headline.

11 avril 2013

#Ulysse 431

Beneath were sloping figures and at the foot a crooked signature with blind loops and a blot. Cyril Sargent : his name and seal.

12 avril 2013

#Ulysse 432

—Mr Deasy told me to write them out all again, he said, and show
them to you, sir.

13 avril 2013

#Ulysse 433

Stephen touched the edges of the book. Futility.
— Do you understand how to do them now ? he asked.

14 avril 2013

#Ulysse 434

—Numbers eleven to fifteen, Sargent answered. Mr Deasy said I was
to copy them off the board, sir.

15 avril 2013

#Ulysse 435

—Can you do them yourself ? Stephen asked.

16 avril 2013

#Ulysse 436

—No, sir.

17 avril 2013

#Ulysse 437

Ugly and futile : lean neck and thick hair and a stain of ink, a snail’s bed.

18 avril 2013

#Ulysse 438

Yet someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in her heart. But for her the race of the world would have trampled him underfoot, a squashed boneless snail. She had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own.

19 avril 2013

#Ulysse 439

Was that then real ? The only true thing in life ? His mother’s prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode.

20 avril 2013

#Ulysse 440

She was no more : the trembling skeleton of a twig burnt in the fire, an odour of rosewood and wetted ashes. She had saved him from being trampled underfoot and had gone, scarcely having been.

21 avril 2013

#Ulysse 441

A poor soul gone to heaven : and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red reek of rapine in his fur, with merciless bright eyes scraped in the earth, listened, scraped up the earth, listened, scraped and scraped.

22 avril 2013

#Ulysse 442

Sitting at his side Stephen solved out the problem. He proves by algebra that Shakespeare’s ghost is Hamlet’s grandfather.

23 avril 2013

#Ulysse 443

Sargent peered askance through his slanted glasses.

24 avril 2013

#Ulysse 444

Hockeysticks rattled in the lumberroom : the hollow knock of a ball and calls from the field.

25 avril 2013

#Ulysse 445

Across the page the symbols moved in grave morrice, in the mummery of their letters, wearing quaint caps of squares and cubes. Give hands, traverse, bow to partner : so : imps of fancy of the Moors.

26 avril 2013

#Ulysse 446

Gone too from the world, Averroes and Moses Maimonides, dark men in mien and movement, flashing in their mocking mirrors the obscure soul of the world, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend.

27 avril 2013

#Ulysse 447

—Do you understand now ? Can you work the second for yourself ?

28 avril 2013

#Ulysse 448

—Yes, sir.

29 avril 2013

#Ulysse 449

In long shaky strokes Sargent copied the data.

30 avril 2013

#Ulysse 450

Waiting always for a word of help his hand moved faithfully the unsteady symbols, a faint hue of shame flickering behind his dull skin. Amor matris : subjective and objective genitive.

1er mai 2013

#Ulysse 451

With her weak blood and wheysour milk she had fed him and hid from sight of others his swaddling bands.

2 mai 2013

#Ulysse 452

Like him was I, these sloping shoulders, this gracelessness. My childhood
bends beside me.

3 mai 2013

#Ulysse 453

Too far for me to lay a hand there once or lightly. Mine is far and his secret as our eyes.

4 mai 2013

#Ulysse 454

Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts : secrets weary of their tyranny : tyrants, willing to be dethroned.

5 mai 2013

#Ulysse 455

The sum was done.

6 mai 2013

#Ulysse 456

—It is very simple, Stephen said as he stood up.

7 mai 2013

#Ulysse 457

—Yes, sir. Thanks, Sargent answered.

8 mai 2013

#Ulysse 458

He dried the page with a sheet of thin blottingpaper and carried his copybook back to his bench.

9 mai 2013

#Ulysse 459

—You had better get your stick and go out to the others, Stephen said as he followed towards the door the boy’s graceless form.

10 mai 2013

#Ulysse 460

—Yes, sir.

11 mai 2013

#Ulysse 461

In the corridor his name was heard, called from the playfield.
— Sargent !

12 mai 2013

#Ulysse 462

—Run on, Stephen said. Mr Deasy is calling you.

13 mai 2013

#Ulysse 463

He stood in the porch and watched the laggard hurry towards the scrappy field where sharp voices were in strife.

14 mai 2013

#Ulysse 464

They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy came away stepping over wisps of grass with gaitered feet.

15 mai 2013

#Ulysse 465

When he had reached the schoolhouse voices again contending called to him. He turned his angry white moustache.
— What is it now ? he cried continually without listening.

16 mai 2013

#Ulysse 466

—Cochrane and Halliday are on the same side, sir, Stephen said.

17 mai 2013

#Ulysse 467

—Will you wait in my study for a moment, Mr Deasy said, till I restore
order here.

18 mai 2013

#Ulysse 468

And as he stepped fussily back across the field his old man’s voice cried sternly :
— What is the matter ? What is it now ?

19 mai 2013

#Ulysse 469

Their sharp voices cried about him on all sides : their many forms closed round him, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his illdyed head.

20 mai 2013

#Ulysse 470

Stale smoky air hung in the study with the smell of drab abraded leather of its chairs. As on the first day he bargained with me here. As it was in the beginning, is now.

21 mai 2013

#Ulysse 471

On the sideboard the tray of Stuart coins, base treasure of a bog : and ever shall be. And snug in their spooncase of purple plush, faded, the twelve apostles having preached to all the gentiles : world without end.

22 mai 2013

#Ulysse 472

A hasty step over the stone porch and in the corridor. Blowing out his rare moustache Mr Deasy halted at the table.
— First, our little financial settlement, he said.

23 mai 2013

#Ulysse 473

He brought out of his coat a pocketbook bound by a leather thong. It slapped open and he took from it two notes, one of joined halves, and laid them carefully on the table.

24 mai 2013

#Ulysse 474

—Two, he said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away.

25 mai 2013

#Ulysse 475

And now his strongroom for the gold. Stephen’s embarrassed hand moved over the shells heaped in the cold stone mortar : whelks and money cowries and leopard shells : and this, whorled as an emir’s turban, and this, the scallop of saint James. An old pilgrim’s hoard, dead treasure, hollow shells.

26 mai 2013

#Ulysse 476

A sovereign fell, bright and new, on the soft pile of the tablecloth.

27 mai 2013

#Ulysse 477

—Three, Mr Deasy said, turning his little savingsbox about in his hand. These are handy things to have. See. This is for sovereigns. This is for shillings. Sixpences, halfcrowns. And here crowns. See.

28 mai 2013

#Ulysse 478

He shot from it two crowns and two shillings.
— Three twelve, he said. I think you’ll find that’s right.

29 mai 2013

#Ulysse 479

—Thank you, sir, Stephen said, gathering the money together with shy haste and putting it all in a pocket of his trousers.

30 mai 2013

#Ulysse 480

—No thanks at all, Mr Deasy said. You have earned it.

31 mai 2013

#Ulysse 481

Stephen’s hand, free again, went back to the hollow shells. Symbols too of beauty and of power. A lump in my pocket : symbols soiled by greed and misery.

1er juin 2013

#Ulysse 482

—Don’t carry it like that, Mr Deasy said. You’ll pull it out somewhere and lose it. You just buy one of these machines. You’ll find them very handy.

2 juin 2013

#Ulysse 483

Answer something.
— Mine would be often empty, Stephen said.

3 juin 2013

#Ulysse 484

The same room and hour, the same wisdom : and I the same. Three times now. Three nooses round me here. Well ? I can break them in this instant if I will.

4 juin 2013

#Ulysse 485

—Because you don’t save, Mr Deasy said, pointing his finger. You don’t know yet what money is. Money is power. When you have lived as long as I have. I know, I know. If youth but knew. But what does Shakespeare say ? Put but money in thy purse.

5 juin 2013

#Ulysse 486

—Iago, Stephen murmured.

6 juin 2013

#Ulysse 487

He lifted his gaze from the idle shells to the old man’s stare.

7 juin 2013

#Ulysse 488

—He knew what money was, Mr Deasy said. He made money. A poet, yes, but an Englishman too. Do you know what is the pride of the English ? Do you know what is the proudest word you will ever hear from an Englishman’s mouth ?

8 juin 2013

#Ulysse 489

The seas’ ruler. His seacold eyes looked on the empty bay : it seems history is to blame : on me and on my words, unhating.

9 juin 2013

#Ulysse 490

—That on his empire, Stephen said, the sun never sets.

10 juin 2013

#Ulysse 491

—Ba ! Mr Deasy cried. That’s not English. A French Celt said that. He tapped his savingsbox against his thumbnail.

11 juin 2013

#Ulysse 492

—I will tell you, he said solemnly, what is his proudest boast. I paid my way.

12 juin 2013

#Ulysse 493

Good man, good man.

13 juin 2013

#Ulysse 494

I paid my way. I never borrowed a shilling in my life. Can you feel that ? I owe nothing. Can you ?

14 juin 2013

#Ulysse 495

Mulligan, nine pounds, three pairs of socks, one pair brogues, ties. Curran, ten guineas. McCann, one guinea. Fred Ryan, two shillings. Temple, two lunches. Russell, one guinea, Cousins, ten shillings, Bob Reynolds, half a guinea, Koehler, three guineas, Mrs MacKernan, five weeks’ board. The lump I have is useless.

15 juin 2013

#Ulysse 496

—For the moment, no, Stephen answered.

16 juin 2013

#Ulysse 497

Mr Deasy laughed with rich delight, putting back his savingsbox.
— I knew you couldn’t, he said joyously. But one day you must feel it. We are a generous people but we must also be just.

17 juin 2013

#Ulysse 498

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

18 juin 2013

#Ulysse 499

Mr Deasy stared sternly for some moments over the mantelpiece at the shapely bulk of a man in tartan filibegs : Albert Edward, prince of Wales.

19 juin 2013

#Ulysse 500

—You think me an old fogey and an old tory, his thoughtful voice said. I saw three generations since O’Connell’s time. I remember the famine in ’46. Do you know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the union twenty years before O’Connell did or before the prelates of your communion denounced him as a demagogue ? You fenians forget some things.

20 juin 2013

#Ulysse 501

Glorious, pious and immortal memory. The lodge of Diamond in Armagh the splendid behung with corpses of papishes. Hoarse, masked and armed, the planters’ covenant. The black north and true blue bible. Croppies lie down.

21 juin 2013

#Ulysse 502

Stephen sketched a brief gesture.

22 juin 2013

#Ulysse 503

—I have rebel blood in me too, Mr Deasy said. On the spindle side. But I am descended from sir John Blackwood who voted for the union. We are all Irish, all kings’ sons.

23 juin 2013

#Ulysse 504

—Alas, Stephen said.

24 juin 2013

#Ulysse 505

Per vias rectas, Mr Deasy said firmly, was his motto. He voted for it and put on his topboots to ride to Dublin from the Ards of Down to do so.

Lal the ral the ra
The rocky road to Dublin.

25 juin 2013

#Ulysse 506

A gruff squire on horseback with shiny topboots. Soft day, sir John ! Soft day, your honour !… Day !… Day !… Two topboots jog dangling on to Dublin. Lal the ral the ra. Lal the ral the raddy.

26 juin 2013

#Ulysse 507

—That reminds me, Mr Deasy said. You can do me a favour, Mr Dedalus, with some of your literary friends. I have a letter here for the press. Sit down a moment. I have just to copy the end.

27 juin 2013

#Ulysse 508

He went to the desk near the window, pulled in his chair twice and read off some words from the sheet on the drum of his typewriter.

28 juin 2013

#Ulysse 509

—Sit down. Excuse me, he said over his shoulder, the dictates of common
. Just a moment.

29 juin 2013

#Ulysse 510

He peered from under his shaggy brows at the manuscript by his elbow and, muttering, began to prod the stiff buttons of the keyboard slowly, sometimes blowing as he screwed up the drum to erase an error.

30 juin 2013

#Ulysse 511

Stephen seated himself noiselessly before the princely presence.

1er juillet 2013

#Ulysse 512

Framed around the walls images of vanished horses stood in homage, their meek heads poised in air : lord Hastings’ Repulse, the duke of Westminster’s Shotover, the duke of Beaufort’s Ceylon, prix de Paris, 1866.

2 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 513

Elfin riders sat them, watchful of a sign. He saw their speeds, backing king’s colours, and shouted with the shouts of vanished crowds.

3 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 514

—Full stop, Mr Deasy bade his keys. But prompt ventilation of this allimportant question…

4 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 515

Where Cranly led me to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the mudsplashed brakes, amid the bawls of bookies on their pitches and reek of the canteen, over the motley slush. Fair Rebel ! Fair Rebel ! Even money the favourite : ten to one the field.

5 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 516

Dicers and thimbleriggers we hurried by after the hoofs, the vying caps and jackets and past the meatfaced woman, a butcher’s dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange.

6 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 517

Shouts rang shrill from the boys’ playfield and a whirring whistle.

7 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 518

Again : a goal.

8 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 519

I am among them, among their battling bodies in a medley, the joust of life.

9 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 520

You mean that knockkneed mother’s darling who seems to be slightly crawsick ? Jousts.

10 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 521

Time shocked rebounds, shock by shock.

11 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 522

Jousts, slush and uproar of battles, the frozen deathspew of the slain, a shout of spearspikes baited with men’s bloodied guts.

12 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 523

—Now then, Mr Deasy said, rising.

13 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 524

He came to the table, pinning together his sheets. Stephen stood up.

14 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 525

—I have put the matter into a nutshell, Mr Deasy said. It’s about the foot and mouth disease. Just look through it. There can be no two opinions on the matter.

15 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 526

May I trespass on your valuable space. That doctrine of laissez faire which so often in our history. Our cattle trade. The way of all our old industries. Liverpool ring which jockeyed the Galway harbour scheme. European conflagration. Grain supplies through the narrow waters of the channel. The pluterperfect imperturbability of the department of agriculture. Pardoned a classical allusion. Cassandra. By a woman who was no better than she should be. To come to the point at issue.

16 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 527

—I don’t mince words, do I ? Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on.

17 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 528

Foot and mouth disease. Known as Koch’s preparation. Serum and virus. Percentage of salted horses. Rinderpest. Emperor’s horses at Murzsteg, lower Austria. Veterinary surgeons. Mr Henry Blackwood Price. Courteous offer a fair trial. Dictates of common sense. Allimportant question. In every sense of the word take the bull by the horns. Thanking you for the hospitality of your columns.

18 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 529

—I want that to be printed and read, Mr Deasy said. You will see at the next outbreak they will put an embargo on Irish cattle. And it can be cured. It is cured. My cousin, Blackwood Price, writes to me it is regularly treated and cured in Austria by cattledoctors there. They offer to come over here. I am trying to work up influence with the department. Now I’m going to try publicity. I am surrounded by difficulties, by… intrigues by… backstairs influence by…

19 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 530

He raised his forefinger and beat the air oldly before his voice spoke.

20 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 531

—Mark my words, Mr Dedalus, he said. England is in the hands of the jews. In all the highest places : her finance, her press. And they are the signs of a nation’s decay. Wherever they gather they eat up the nation’s vital strength. I have seen it coming these years. As sure as we are standing here the jew merchants are already at their work of destruction. Old England is dying.

21 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 532

He stepped swiftly off, his eyes coming to blue life as they passed a broad sunbeam. He faced about and back again.

22 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 533

—Dying, he said again, if not dead by now.

23 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 534

The harlot’s cry from street to street
Shall weave old England’s windingsheet.

24 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 535

His eyes open wide in vision stared sternly across the sunbeam in which he halted.

25 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 536

—A merchant, Stephen said, is one who buys cheap and sells dear, jew or gentile, is he not ?

26 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 537

—They sinned against the light, Mr Deasy said gravely. And you can see the darkness in their eyes. And that is why they are wanderers on the earth to this day.

27 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 538

On the steps of the Paris stock exchange the goldskinned men quoting prices on their gemmed fingers. Gabble of geese.

28 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 539

They swarmed loud, uncouth about the temple, their heads thickplotting under maladroit silk hats. Not theirs : these clothes, this speech, these gestures.

29 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 540

Their full slow eyes belied the words, the gestures eager and unoffending, but knew the rancours massed about them and knew their zeal was vain. Vain patience to heap and hoard. Time surely would scatter all.

30 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 541

A hoard heaped by the roadside : plundered and passing on. Their eyes knew their years of wandering and, patient, knew the dishonours of their flesh.

31 juillet 2013

#Ulysse 542

—Who has not ? Stephen said.

1er août 2013

#Ulysse 543

—What do you mean ? Mr Deasy asked.

2 août 2013

#Ulysse 544

He came forward a pace and stood by the table. His underjaw fell sideways open uncertainly. Is this old wisdom ? He waits to hear from me.

3 août 2013

#Ulysse 545

—History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.

4 août 2013

#Ulysse 546

From the playfield the boys raised a shout. A whirring whistle : goal. What if that nightmare gave you a back kick ?

5 août 2013

#Ulysse 547

—The ways of the Creator are not our ways, Mr Deasy said. All human history moves towards one great goal, the manifestation of God.

6 août 2013

#Ulysse 548

Stephen jerked his thumb towards the window, saying :
— That is God.

7 août 2013

#Ulysse 549

Hooray ! Ay ! Whrrwhee !

8 août 2013

#Ulysse 550

—What ? Mr Deasy asked.

9 août 2013

#Ulysse 551

—A shout in the street, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders.

10 août 2013

#Ulysse 552

Mr Deasy looked down and held for awhile the wings of his nose tweaked between his fingers. Looking up again he set them free.

11 août 2013

#Ulysse 553

—I am happier than you are, he said. We have committed many errors and many sins. A woman brought sin into the world. For a woman who was no better than she should be, Helen, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten years the Greeks made war on Troy. A faithless wife first brought the strangers to our shore here, MacMurrough’s wife and her leman, O’Rourke, prince of Breffni. A woman too brought Parnell low. Many errors, many failures but not the one sin. I am a struggler now at the end of my days. But I will fight for the right till the end.

For Ulster will fight
And Ulster will be right.

12 août 2013

#Ulysse 554

Stephen raised the sheets in his hand.
— Well, sir, he began…

13 août 2013

#Ulysse 555

—I foresee, Mr Deasy said, that you will not remain here very long at this work. You were not born to be a teacher, I think. Perhaps I am wrong.

14 août 2013

#Ulysse 556

—A learner rather, Stephen said.

15 août 2013

#Ulysse 557

And here what will you learn more ?

16 août 2013

#Ulysse 558

Mr Deasy shook his head.
— Who knows ? he said. To learn one must be humble. But life is the great teacher.

17 août 2013

#Ulysse 559

Stephen rustled the sheets again.
— As regards these, he began.

18 août 2013

#Ulysse 560

—Yes, Mr Deasy said. You have two copies there. If you can have them published at once.
Telegraph. Irish Homestead.

19 août 2013

#Ulysse 561

—I will try, Stephen said, and let you know tomorrow. I know two editors slightly.

20 août 2013

#Ulysse 562

—That will do, Mr Deasy said briskly. I wrote last night to Mr Field, M.P. There is a meeting of the cattletraders’ association today at the City Arms hotel. I asked him to lay my letter before the meeting. You see if you can get it into your two papers. What are they ?

21 août 2013

#Ulysse 563

The Evening Telegraph

22 août 2013

#Ulysse 564

—That will do, Mr Deasy said. There is no time to lose. Now I have to answer that letter from my cousin.

23 août 2013

#Ulysse 565

—Good morning, sir, Stephen said, putting the sheets in his pocket. Thank you.

24 août 2013

#Ulysse 566

—Not at all, Mr Deasy said as he searched the papers on his desk. I like to break a lance with you, old as I am.

25 août 2013

#Ulysse 567

—Good morning, sir, Stephen said again, bowing to his bent back.

26 août 2013

#Ulysse 568

He went out by the open porch and down the gravel path under the trees, hearing the cries of voices and crack of sticks from the playfield.

27 août 2013

#Ulysse 569

The lions couchant on the pillars as he passed out through the gate : toothless terrors. Still I will help him in his fight. Mulligan will dub me a new name : the bullockbefriending bard.

28 août 2013

#Ulysse 570

—Mr Dedalus !
Running after me. No more letters, I hope.

29 août 2013

#Ulysse 571

—Just one moment.

30 août 2013

#Ulysse 572

—Yes, sir, Stephen said, turning back at the gate.

31 août 2013

#Ulysse 573

Mr Deasy halted, breathing hard and swallowing his breath.
— I just wanted to say, he said. Ireland, they say, has the honour of being the only country which never persecuted the jews. Do you know that ? No. And do you know why ?

1er septembre 2013

#Ulysse 574

He frowned sternly on the bright air.

2 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 575

—Why, sir ? Stephen asked, beginning to smile.

3 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 576

—Because she never let them in, Mr Deasy said solemnly.

4 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 577

A coughball of laughter leaped from his throat dragging after it a rattling chain of phlegm. He turned back quickly, coughing, laughing, his lifted arms waving to the air.

5 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 578

—She never let them in, he cried again through his laughter as he stamped on gaitered feet over the gravel of the path. That’s why.

6 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 579

On his wise shoulders through the checkerwork of leaves the sun flung spangles, dancing coins.

7 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 580

Ineluctable modality of the visible : at least that if no more, thought through my eyes.

8 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 581

Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust : coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds : in bodies.

9 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 582

Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How ? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy.

10 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 583

Bald he was and a millionaire, maestro di color che sanno. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in ? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see.

11 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 584

Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and shells. You are walking through it howsomever. I am, a stride at a time.

12 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 585

A very short space of time through very short times of space. Five, six :
the nacheinander. Exactly : and that is the ineluctable modality of the audible.

13 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 586

Open your eyes. No. Jesus ! If I fell over a cliff that beetles o’er his base, fell through the nebeneinander ineluctably !

14 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 587

I am getting on nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with it : they do.

15 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 588

My two feet in his boots are at the ends of his legs, nebeneinander. Sounds solid : made by the mallet of Los Demiurgos.

16 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 589

Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand ?

17 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 590

Crush, crack, crick, crick. Wild sea money. Dominie Deasy kens them a’. Won’t you come to Sandymount, Madeline the mare ?

18 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 591

Rhythm begins, you see. I hear. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching.
No, agallop : deline the mare.

19 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 592

Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. Has all vanished since ? If I open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. Basta ! I will see if I can see.

20 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 593

See now. There all the time without you : and ever shall be, world without end.

21 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 594

They came down the steps from Leahy’s terrace prudently, Frauenzimmer : and down the shelving shore flabbily, their splayed feet sinking in the silted sand.

22 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 595

Like me, like Algy, coming down to our mighty mother.

23 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 596

Number one swung lourdily her midwife’s bag, the other’s gamp poked in the beach. From the liberties, out for the day.

24 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 597

Mrs Florence MacCabe, relict of the late Patk MacCabe, deeply lamented, of Bride Street.

25 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 598

One of her sisterhood lugged me squealing into life. Creation from nothing. What has she in the bag ?

26 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 599

A misbirth with a trailing navelcord, hushed in ruddy wool. The cords of all link back, strandentwining cable of all flesh.

27 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 600

That is why mystic monks. Will you be as gods ? Gaze in your omphalos.

28 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 601

Hello ! Kinch here. Put me on to Edenville. Aleph, alpha : nought, nought, one

29 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 602

Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon : Heva, naked Eve.

30 septembre 2013

#Ulysse 603

She had no navel. Gaze. Belly without blemish, bulging big, a buckler of taut vellum, no, whiteheaped corn, orient and immortal, standing from everlasting to everlasting. Womb of sin.

1er octobre 2013

#Ulysse 604

Wombed in sin darkness I was too, made not begotten.

2 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 605

By them, the man with my voice and my eyes and a ghostwoman with ashes on her breath.

3 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 606

They clasped and sundered, did the coupler’s will. From before the ages.

4 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 607

He willed me and now may not will me away or ever. A lex eterna stays about Him.

5 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 608

Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son are consubstantial ?

6 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 609

Where is poor dear Arius to try conclusions ? Warring his life long upon the contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality.

7 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 610

Illstarred heresiarch’. In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last : euthanasia.

8 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 611

With beaded mitre and with crozier, stalled upon his throne, widower of a widowed see, with upstiffed omophorion, with clotted hinderparts.

9 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 612

Airs romped round him, nipping and eager airs. They are coming, waves. The whitemaned seahorses, champing, brightwindbridled, the steeds of Mananaan.

10 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 613

I mustn’t forget his letter for the press. And after ? The Ship, half twelve.

11 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 614

By the way go easy with that money like a good young imbecile. Yes, I must.

12 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 615

His pace slackened. Here. Am I going to aunt Sara’s or not ?

13 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 616

My consubstantial father’s voice. Did you see anything of your artist brother Stephen lately ? No ? Sure he’s not down in Strasburg terrace with his aunt Sally ? Couldn’t he fly a bit higher than that, eh ?

14 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 617

And and and and tell us, Stephen, how is uncle Si ? O, weeping God, the things I married into !

15 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 618

De boys up in de hayloft. The drunken little costdrawer and his brother, the cornet player. Highly respectable gondoliers ! And skeweyed Walter sirring his father, no less ! Sir. Yes, sir. No, sir. Jesus wept : and no wonder, by Christ !

16 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 619

I pull the wheezy bell of their shuttered cottage : and wait.

17 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 620

They take me for a dun, peer out from a coign of vantage.

18 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 621

—It’s Stephen, sir.

19 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 622

—Let him in. Let Stephen in.

20 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 623

A bolt drawn back and Walter welcomes me.
— We thought you were someone else.

21 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 624

In his broad bed nuncle Richie, pillowed and blanketed, extends over the hillock of his knees a sturdy forearm. Cleanchested. He has washed the upper moiety.
— Morrow, nephew.

22 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 625

He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bills of costs for the eyes of master Goff and master Shapland Tandy, filing consents and common searches and a writ of Duces Tecum.

23 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 626

A bogoak frame over his bald head : Wilde’s Requiescat.

24 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 627

The drone of his misleading whistle brings Walter back.
— Yes, sir ?

25 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 628

—Malt for Richie and Stephen, tell mother. Where is she ?

26 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 629

—Bathing Crissie, sir.

27 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 630

Papa’s little bedpal. Lump of love.

28 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 631

29 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 632

—Call me Richie. Damn your lithia water. It lowers. Whusky !

30 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 633

—Uncle Richie, really…

31 octobre 2013

#Ulysse 634

—Sit down or by the law Harry I’ll knock you down.

1er novembre 2013

#Ulysse 635

Walter squints vainly for a chair.
— He has nothing to sit down on, sir.

2 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 636

—He has nowhere to put it, you mug. Bring in our chippendale chair. Would you like a bite of something ? None of your damned lawdeedaw airs here. The rich of a rasher fried with a herring ? Sure ? So much the better. We have nothing in the house but backache pills. All’erta !.

3 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 637

He drones bars of Ferrando’s aria di sortita. The grandest number, Stephen, in the whole opera. Listen.

4 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 638

His tuneful whistle sounds again, finely shaded, with rushes of the air, his fists bigdrumming on his padded knees.

5 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 639

This wind is sweeter.

6 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 640

Houses of decay, mine, his and all. You told the Clongowes gentry you had an uncle a judge and an uncle a general in the army. Come out of them, Stephen.

7 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 641

Beauty is not there. Nor in the stagnant bay of Marsh’s library where you read the fading prophecies of Joachim Abbas.

8 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 642

For whom ? The hundredheaded rabble of the cathedral close.

9 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 643

A hater of his kind ran from them to the wood of madness, his mane foaming in the moon, his eyeballs stars.

10 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 644

Houyhnhnm, horsenostrilled. The oval equine faces, Temple, Buck Mulligan, Foxy Campbell, Lanternjaws.

11 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 645

Abbas father,— furious dean, what offence laid fire to their brains ? Paff ! Descende, calve, ut ne amplius decalveris.

12 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 646

A garland of grey hair on his comminated head see him me clambering down to the footpace (descende !), clutching a monstrance, basiliskeyed. Get down, baldpoll !

13 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 647

A choir gives back menace and echo, assisting about the altar’s horns, the snorted Latin of jackpriests moving burly in their albs, tonsured and oiled and gelded, fat with the fat of kidneys of wheat.

14 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 648

And at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it.

15 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 649

Dringdring ! And two streets off another locking it into a pyx.

16 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 650

Dringadring ! And in a ladychapel another taking housel all to his own cheek.

17 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 651

Dringdring ! Down, up, forward, back. Dan Occam thought of that, invincible doctor.

18 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 652

A misty English morning the imp hypostasis tickled his brain.

19 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 653

Bringing his host down and kneeling he heard twine with his second bell the first bell in the transept (he is lifting his) and, rising, heard (now I am lifting) their two bells (he is kneeling) twang in diphthong.

20 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 654

Cousin Stephen, you will never be a saint. Isle of saints.

21 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 655

You were awfully holy, weren’t you ? You prayed to the Blessed Virgin that you might not have a red nose.

22 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 656

You prayed to the devil in Serpentine avenue that the fubsy widow in front might lift her clothes still more from the wet street. O si, certo !

23 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 657

Sell your soul for that, do, dyed rags pinned round a squaw. More tell me, more still !!

24 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 658

On the top of the Howth tram alone crying to the rain : Naked women ! naked women ! What about that, eh ?

25 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 659

What about what ? What else were they invented for ?

26 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 660

Reading two pages apiece of seven books every night, eh ? I was young.

27 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 661

You bowed to yourself in the mirror, stepping forward to applause earnestly, striking face. Hurray for the Goddamned idiot ! Hray !

28 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 662

No-one saw : tell no-one.

29 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 663

Books you were going to write with letters for titles. Have you read his F ? O yes, but I prefer Q. Yes, but W is wonderful. O yes, W.

30 novembre 2013

#Ulysse 664

Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply deep, copies to be sent if you died to all the great libraries of the world, including Alexandria ?

1er décembre 2013

#Ulysse 665

Someone was to read them there after a few thousand years, a mahamanvantara. Pico della Mirandola like. Ay, very like a whale.

2 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 666

When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who once…

3 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 667

The grainy sand had gone from under his feet.

4 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 668

His boots trod again a damp crackling mast, razorshells, squeaking pebbles, that on the unnumbered pebbles beats, wood sieved by the shipworm, lost Armada.

5 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 669

Unwholesome sandflats waited to suck his treading soles, breathing upward sewage breath, a pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a midden of man’s ashes.

6 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 670

He coasted them, walking warily.

7 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 671

A porterbottle stood up, stogged to its waist, in the cakey sand dough. A sentinel : isle of dreadful thirst.

8 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 672

Broken hoops on the shore ; at the land a maze of dark cunning nets ; farther away chalkscrawled backdoors and on the higher beach a dryingline with two crucified shirts.

9 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 673

Ringsend : wigwams of brown steersmen and master mariners. Human shells.

10 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 674

He halted. I have passed the way to aunt Sara’s. Am I not going there ? Seems not.

11 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 675

No-one about. He turned northeast and crossed the firmer sand towards the Pigeonhouse.
—Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position ?
— C’est le pigeon, Joseph.

12 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 676

Patrice, home on furlough, lapped warm milk with me in the bar MacMahon. Son of the wild goose, Kevin Egan of Paris.

13 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 677

My father’s a bird, he lapped the sweet lait chaud with pink young tongue, plump bunny’s face. Lap, lapin.

14 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 678

He hopes to win in the gros lots.

15 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 679

About the nature of women he read in Michelet. But he must send me La Vie de Jesus by M. Leo Taxil. Lent it to his friend.
—C’est tordant, vous savez. Moi, je suis socialiste. Je ne crois pas en
’existence de Dieu. Faut pas le dire a mon père.
— Il croit ?
— Mon père, oui.

Schluss. He laps.

16 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 680

My Latin quarter hat. God, we simply must dress the character. I want puce gloves.

17 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 681

You were a student, weren’t you ? Of what in the other devil’s name ? Paysayenn. P. C. N., you know : physiques, chimiques et naturelles. Aha.

18 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 682

Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. Just say in the most natural tone : when I was in Paris ; boul’ Mich’, I used to.

19 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 683

Yes, used to carry punched tickets to prove an alibi if they arrested you for murder somewhere. Justice.

20 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 684

On the night of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses. Other fellow did it : other me. Hat, tie, overcoat, nose. Lui, c’est moi. You seem to have enjoyed yourself.

21 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 685

Proudly walking. Whom were you trying to walk like ? Forget : a disposssed.

22 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 686

With mother’s money order, eight shillings, the banging door of the post office slammed in your face by the usher. Hunger toothache.

23 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 687

Encore deux minutes. Look clock. Must get. Ferme. Hired dog !

24 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 688

Shoot him to bloody bits with a bang shotgun, bits man spattered walls all brass buttons. Bits all khrrrrklak in place clack back.

25 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 689

Not hurt ? O, that’s all right. Shake hands. See what I meant, see ? O, that’s all right. Shake a shake. O, that’s all only all right.

26 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 690

You were going to do wonders, what ? Missionary to Europe after fiery Columbanus.

27 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 691

Fiacre and Scotus on their creepystools in heaven spilt from their pintpots, loudlatinlaughing : Euge ! Euge !

28 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 692

Pretending to speak broken English as you dragged your valise, porter threepence, across the slimy pier at Newhaven. Comment ? Rich booty you brought back ; Le Tutu, five tattered numbers of Pantalon Blanc et Culotte Rouge ; a blue French telegram, curiosity to show :
— Nother dying come home father.

29 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 693

The aunt thinks you killed your mother. That’s why she won’t.

Then here’s a health to Mulligan’s aunt
And I’ll tell you the reason why.
She always kept things decent in
The Hannigan famileye.

30 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 694

His feet marched in sudden proud rhythm over the sand furrows, along by the boulders of the south wall. He stared at them proudly, piled stone mammoth skulls.

31 décembre 2013

#Ulysse 695

Gold light on sea, on sand, on boulders. The sun is there, the slender trees, the lemon houses.

1er janvier 2014

#Ulysse 696

Paris rawly waking, crude sunlight on her lemon streets.

2 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 697

Moist pith of farls of bread, the froggreen wormwood, her matin incense, court the air.

3 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 698

Belluomo rises from the bed of his wife’s lover’s wife, the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a saucer of acetic acid in her hand.

4 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 699

In Rodot’s Yvonne and Madeleine newmake their tumbled beauties, shattering with gold teeth chaussons of pastry, their mouths yellowed with the pus of flan breton.

5 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 700

Faces of Paris men go by, their wellpleased pleasers, curled conquistadores.

6 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 701

Noon slumbers. Kevin Egan rolls gunpowder cigarettes through fingers smeared with printer’s ink, sipping his green fairy as Patrice his white.

7 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 702

About us gobblers fork spiced beans down their gullets. Un demi setier !

8 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 703

A jet of coffee steam from the burnished caldron. She serves me at his beck. Il est irlandais. Hollandais ? Non fromage. Deux irlandais, nous, Irlande, vous savez ah, oui !

9 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 704

She thought you wanted a cheese hollandais. Your postprandial, do you know that word ? Postprandial.

10 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 705

There was a fellow I knew once in Barcelona, queer fellow, used to call it his postprandial.

11 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 706

Well : slainte ! Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges.

12 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 707

His breath hangs over our saucestained plates, the green fairy’s fang thrusting between his lips.

13 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 708

Of Ireland, the Dalcassians, of hopes, conspiracies, of Arthur Griffith now, A E, pimander, good shepherd of men.

14 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 709

To yoke me as his yokefellow, our crimes our common cause. You’re your father’s son. I know the voice.

15 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 710

His fustian shirt, sanguineflowered, trembles its Spanish tassels at his secrets.

16 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 711

M. Drumont, famous journalist, Drumont, know what he called queen Victoria ? Old hag with the yellow teeth. Vieille ogresse with the dents jaunes.

17 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 712

Maud Gonne, beautiful woman, La Patrie, M. Millevoye, Felix Faure, know how he died ? Licentious men.

18 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 713

The froeken, bonne a tout faire, who rubs male
nakedness in the bath at Upsala. Moi faire, she said, Tous les messieurs.
Not this Monsieur, I said. Most licentious custom.

19 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 714

Bath a most private thing. I wouldn’t let my brother, not even my own brother, most lascivious thing.

20 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 715

Green eyes, I see you. Fang, I feel. Lascivious people.

21 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 716

The blue fuse burns deadly between hands and burns clear.

22 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 717

Loose tobaccoshreds catch fire : a flame and acrid smoke light our corner.

23 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 718

Raw facebones under his peep of day boy’s hat.

24 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 719

How the head centre got away, authentic version. Got up as a young bride, man, veil, orangeblossoms, drove out the road to Malahide. Did, faith. Of lost leaders, the betrayed, wild escapes. Disguises, clutched at, gone, not here.

25 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 720

Spurned lover. I was a strapping young gossoon at that time, I tell you.

26 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 721

I’ll show you my likeness one day. I was, faith.

27 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 722

Lover, for her love he prowled with colonel Richard Burke, tanist of his sept, under the walls of Clerkenwell and, crouching, saw a flame of vengeance hurl them upward in the fog.

28 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 723

Shattered glass and toppling masonry.

29 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 724

In gay Paree he hides, Egan of Paris, unsought by any save by me.

30 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 725

Making his day’s stations, the dingy printingcase, his three taverns, the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in, rue de la Goutte-d’Or, damascened with flyblown faces of the gone.

31 janvier 2014

#Ulysse 726

Loveless, landless, wifeless.

1er février 2014

#Ulysse 727

She is quite nicey comfy without her outcast man, madame in rue Git-le-Coeur, canary and two buck lodgers.

2 février 2014

#Ulysse 728

Peachy cheeks, a zebra skirt, frisky as a young thing’s. Spurned and undespairing.

3 février 2014

#Ulysse 729

Tell Pat you saw me, won’t you ? I wanted to get poor Pat a job one time. Mon fils, soldier of France. I taught him to sing The boys of Kilkenny are stout roaring blades. Know that old lay ? I taught Patrice that. Old Kilkenny : saint Canice, Strongbow’s castle on the Nore. Goes like this. O, O. He takes me, Napper Tandy, by the hand.


4 février 2014

#Ulysse 730

Weak wasting hand on mine. They have forgotten Kevin Egan, not he them. Remembering thee, O Sion.

5 février 2014

#Ulysse 731

He had come nearer the edge of the sea and wet sand slapped his boots.

6 février 2014

#Ulysse 732

The new air greeted him, harping in wild nerves, wind of wild air of seeds of brightness.

7 février 2014

#Ulysse 733

Here, I am not walking out to the Kish lightship, am I ?

8 février 2014

#Ulysse 734

He stood suddenly, his feet beginning to sink slowly in the quaking soil. Turn back.

9 février 2014

#Ulysse 735

Turning, he scanned the shore south, his feet sinking again slowly in new sockets.

10 février 2014

#Ulysse 736

The cold domed room of the tower waits.

11 février 2014

#Ulysse 737

Through the barbacans the shafts of light are moving ever, slowly ever as my feet are sinking, creeping duskward over the dial floor.

12 février 2014

#Ulysse 738

Blue dusk, nightfall, deep blue night.

13 février 2014

#Ulysse 739

In the darkness of the dome they wait, their pushedback chairs, my obelisk valise, around a board of abandoned platters. Who to clear it ? He has the key.

14 février 2014

#Ulysse 740

I will not sleep there when this night comes.

15 février 2014

#Ulysse 741

A shut door of a silent tower, entombing their blind bodies, the panthersahib and his pointer. Call : no answer.

16 février 2014

#Ulysse 742

He lifted his feet up from the suck and turned back by the mole of boulders.

17 février 2014

#Ulysse 743

Take all, keep all. My soul walks with me, form of forms.

18 février 2014

#Ulysse 744

So in the moon’s midwatches I pace the path above the rocks, in sable silvered, hearing Elsinore’s tempting flood.

19 février 2014

#Ulysse 745

The flood is following me. I can watch it flow past from here.

20 février 2014

#Ulysse 746

Get back then by the Poolbeg road to the strand there.

21 février 2014

#Ulysse 747

He climbed over the sedge and eely oarweeds and sat on a stool of rock, resting his ashplant in a grike.

22 février 2014

#Ulysse 748

A bloated carcass of a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack. Before him the gunwale of a boat, sunk in sand. Un coche ensablé Louis Veuillot called Gautier’s prose.

23 février 2014

#Ulysse 749

These heavy sands are language tide and wind have silted here. And these, the stoneheaps of dead builders, a warren of weasel rats.

24 février 2014

#Ulysse 750

Hide gold there. Try it. You have some. Sands and stones. Heavy of the past. Sir Lout’s toys. Mind you don’t get one bang on the ear. I’m the bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well boulders, bones for my steppingstones. Feefawfum. I zmellz de bloodz odz an Iridzman.

25 février 2014

#Ulysse 751

A point, live dog, grew into sight running across the sweep of sand.

26 février 2014

#Ulysse 752

Lord, is he going to attack me ? Respect his liberty.

27 février 2014

#Ulysse 753

You will not be master of others or their slave. I have my stick. Sit tight.

28 février 2014

#Ulysse 754

From farther away, walking shoreward across from the crested tide, figures, two. The two maries.

1er mars 2014

#Ulysse 755

They have tucked it safe mong the bulrushes. Peekaboo. I see you. No, the dog. He is running back to them. Who ?

2 mars 2014

#Ulysse 756

Galleys of the Lochlanns ran here to beach, in quest of prey, their bloodbeaked prows riding low on a molten pewter surf.

3 mars 2014

#Ulysse 757

Dane vikings, torcs of tomahawks aglitter on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold.

4 mars 2014

#Ulysse 758

A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon, spouting, hobbling in the shallows.

5 mars 2014

#Ulysse 759

Then from the starving cagework city a horde of jerkined dwarfs, my people, with flayers’ knives, running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. Famine, plague and slaughters.

6 mars 2014

#Ulysse 760

Their blood is in me, their lusts my waves.

7 mars 2014

#Ulysse 761

I moved among them on the frozen Liffey, that I, a changeling, among the spluttering resin fires. I spoke to no-one : none to me.

8 mars 2014

#Ulysse 762

I spoke to no-one : none to me.

9 mars 2014

#Ulysse 763

The dog’s bark ran towards him, stopped, ran back. Dog of my enemy.

10 mars 2014

#Ulysse 764

I just simply stood pale, silent, bayed about. Terribilia meditans.

11 mars 2014

#Ulysse 765

A primrose doublet, fortune’s knave, smiled on my fear. For that are you pining, the bark of their applause ?

12 mars 2014

#Ulysse 766

Pretenders : live their lives. The Bruce’s brother, Thomas Fitzgerald, silken knight, Perkin Warbeck, York’s false scion, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of a day, and Lambert Simnel, with a tail of nans and sutlers, a scullion crowned. All kings’ sons.

13 mars 2014

#Ulysse 767

Paradise of pretenders then and now. He saved men from drowning and you shake at a cur’s yelping.

14 mars 2014

#Ulysse 768

But the courtiers who mocked Guido in Or san Michele were in their own house. House of… We don’t want any of your medieval abstrusiosities.

15 mars 2014

#Ulysse 769

Would you do what he did ? A boat would be near, a lifebuoy. Natürlich, put there for you. Would you or would you not ?

16 mars 2014

#Ulysse 770

The man that was drowned nine days ago off Maiden’s rock. They are waiting for him now.

17 mars 2014

#Ulysse 771

The truth, spit it out. I would want to. I would try. I am not a strong swimmer. Water cold soft.

18 mars 2014

#Ulysse 772

When I put my face into it in the basin at Clongowes. Can’t see ! Who’s behind me ? Out quickly, quickly !

19 mars 2014

#Ulysse 773

Do you see the tide flowing quickly in on all sides, sheeting the lows of sand quickly, shellcocoacoloured ?

20 mars 2014

#Ulysse 774

If I had land under my feet. I want his life still to be his, mine to be mine. A drowning man.

21 mars 2014

#Ulysse 775

His human eyes scream to me out of horror of his death. I… With him together down… I could not save her. Waters : bitter death : lost.

22 mars 2014

#Ulysse 776

A woman and a man. I see her skirties. Pinned up, I bet.

23 mars 2014

#Ulysse 777

Their dog ambled about a bank of dwindling sand, trotting, sniffing on all sides.

24 mars 2014

#Ulysse 778

Looking for something lost in a past life.

25 mars 2014

#Ulysse 779

Suddenly he made off like a bounding hare, ears flung back, chasing the shadow of a lowskimming gull.

26 mars 2014

#Ulysse 780

The man’s shrieked whistle struck his limp ears. He turned, bounded back, came nearer, trotted on twinkling shanks.

27 mars 2014

#Ulysse 781

On a field tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unattired.

28 mars 2014

#Ulysse 782

At the lacefringe of the tide he halted with stiff forehoofs, seawardpointed ears

29 mars 2014

#Ulysse 783

His snout lifted barked at the wavenoise, herds of seamorse.

30 mars 2014

#Ulysse 784

They serpented towards his feet, curling, unfurling many crests, every ninth, breaking, plashing, from far, from farther out, waves and waves.

31 mars 2014

#Ulysse 785

Cocklepickers. They waded a little way in the water and, stooping, soused their bags and, lifting them again, waded out.

1er avril 2014

#Ulysse 786

The dog yelped running to them, reared up and pawed them, dropping on all fours, again reared up at them with mute bearish fawning.

2 avril 2014

#Ulysse 787

Unheeded he kept by them as they came towards the drier sand, a rag of wolf’s tongue redpanting from his jaws.

3 avril 2014

#Ulysse 788

His speckled body ambled ahead of them and then loped off at a calf’s gallop.

4 avril 2014

#Ulysse 789

The carcass lay on his path.

5 avril 2014

#Ulysse 790

He stopped, sniffed, stalked round it, brother, nosing closer, went round it, sniffling rapidly like a dog all over the dead dog’s bedraggled fell.

6 avril 2014

#Ulysse 791

Dogskull, dogsniff, eyes on the ground, moves to one great goal. Ah, poor dogsbody ! Here lies poor dogsbody’s body.

7 avril 2014

#Ulysse 792

—Tatters ! Out of that, you mongrel !

8 avril 2014

#Ulysse 793

The cry brought him skulking back to his master and a blunt bootless kick sent him unscathed across a spit of sand, crouched in flight.

9 avril 2014

#Ulysse 794

He slunk back in a curve. Doesn’t see me.

10 avril 2014

#Ulysse 795

Along by the edge of the mole he lolloped, dawdled, smelt a rock and from under a cocked hindleg pissed against it.

11 avril 2014

#Ulysse 796

He trotted forward and, lifting again his hindleg, pissed quick short at an unsmelt rock. The simple pleasures of the poor.

12 avril 2014

#Ulysse 797

His hindpaws then scattered the sand : then his forepaws dabbled and delved. Something he buried there, his grandmother.

13 avril 2014

#Ulysse 798

He rooted in the sand, dabbling, delving and stopped to listen to the air, scraped up the sand again with a fury of his claws, soon ceasing, a pard, a panther, got in spousebreach, vulturing the dead.

14 avril 2014

#Ulysse 799

After he woke me last night same dream or was it ?

15 avril 2014

#Ulysse 800

Wait. Open hallway. Street of harlots. Remember. Haroun al Raschid. I am almosting it. That man led me, spoke. I was not afraid. The melon he had he held against my face. Smiled : creamfruit smell. That was the rule, said. In. Come. Red carpet spread. You will see who.

16 avril 2014

#Ulysse 801

Shouldering their bags they trudged, the red Egyptians.

17 avril 2014

#Ulysse 802

His blued feet out of turnedup trousers slapped the clammy sand, a dull brick muffler strangling his unshaven neck.

18 avril 2014

#Ulysse 803

With woman steps she followed : the ruffian and his strolling mort.

19 avril 2014

#Ulysse 804

Spoils slung at her back. Loose sand and shellgrit crusted her bare feet. About her windraw face hair trailed.

20 avril 2014

#Ulysse 805

Behind her lord, his helpmate, bing awast to Romeville.

21 avril 2014

#Ulysse 806

When night hides her body’s flaws calling under her brown shawl from an archway where dogs have mired.

22 avril 2014

#Ulysse 807

Her fancyman is treating two Royal Dublins in O’Loughlin’s of Blackpitts. Buss her, wap in rogues’ rum lingo, for, O, my dimber wapping dell !

23 avril 2014

#Ulysse 808

A shefiend’s whiteness under her rancid rags.

24 avril 2014

#Ulysse 809

Fumbally’s lane that night : the tanyard smells.

White thy fambles, red thy gan
And thy quarrons dainty is.
Couch a hogshead with me then.
In the darkmans clip and kiss.

25 avril 2014

#Ulysse 810

Morose delectation Aquinas tunbelly calls this, frate porcospino.

26 avril 2014

#Ulysse 811

Unfallen Adam rode and not rutted.

27 avril 2014

#Ulysse 812

Call away let him : thy quarrons dainty is. Language no whit worse than his.

28 avril 2014

#Ulysse 813

Monkwords, marybeads jabber on their girdles : roguewords, tough nuggets patter in their pockets.

29 avril 2014

#Ulysse 814

Passing now.

30 avril 2014

#Ulysse 815

A side eye at my Hamlet hat. If I were suddenly naked here as I sit ? I am not.

1er mai 2014

#Ulysse 816

Across the sands of all the world, followed by the sun’s flaming sword, to the west, trekking to evening lands.

2 mai 2014

#Ulysse 817

She trudges, schlepps, trains, drags, trascines her load.

3 mai 2014

#Ulysse 818

A tide westering, moondrawn, in her wake.

4 mai 2014

#Ulysse 819

Tides, myriadislanded, within her, blood not mine, oinopa ponton, a winedark sea. Behold the handmaid of the moon.

5 mai 2014

#Ulysse 820

In sleep the wet sign calls her hour, bids her rise.

6 mai 2014

#Ulysse 821

Bridebed, childbed, bed of death, ghostcandled. Omnis caro ad te veniet.

7 mai 2014

#Ulysse 822

He comes, pale vampire, through storm his eyes, his bat sails bloodying the sea, mouth to her mouth’s kiss.

8 mai 2014

#Ulysse 823

Here. Put a pin in that chap, will you ? My tablets. Mouth to her kiss.

9 mai 2014

#Ulysse 824

No. Must be two of em. Glue em well. Mouth to her mouth’s kiss.

10 mai 2014

#Ulysse 825

His lips lipped and mouthed fleshless lips of air : mouth to her moomb. Oomb, allwombing tomb.

11 mai 2014

#Ulysse 826

His mouth moulded issuing breath, unspeeched : ooeeehah : roar of cataractic planets, globed, blazing, roaring wayawayawayawayaway.

12 mai 2014

#Ulysse 827

Paper. The banknotes, blast them. Old Deasy’s letter.

13 mai 2014

#Ulysse 828

Here. Thanking you for the hospitality tear the blank end off.

14 mai 2014

#Ulysse 829

Turning his back to the sun he bent over far to a table of rock and scribbled words.

15 mai 2014

#Ulysse 830

That’s twice I forgot to take slips from the library counter.

16 mai 2014

#Ulysse 831

His shadow lay over the rocks as he bent, ending. Why not endless till the farthest star ?

17 mai 2014

#Ulysse 832

Darkly they are there behind this light, darkness shining in the brightness, delta of Cassiopeia, worlds.

18 mai 2014

#Ulysse 833

Me sits there with his augur’s rod of ash, in borrowed sandals, by day beside a livid sea, unbeheld, in violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth stars.

19 mai 2014

#Ulysse 834

I throw this ended shadow from me, manshape ineluctable, call it back.

20 mai 2014

#Ulysse 835

Endless, would it be mine, form of my form ? Who watches me here ? Who ever anywhere will read these written words ?

21 mai 2014

#Ulysse 836

Signs on a white field. Somewhere to someone in your flutiest voice.

22 mai 2014

#Ulysse 837

The good bishop of Cloyne took the veil of the temple out of his shovel hat : veil of space with coloured emblems hatched on its field.

23 mai 2014

#Ulysse 838

Hold hard.

24 mai 2014

#Ulysse 839

Coloured on a flat : yes, that’s right. Flat I see, then think distance, near, far, flat I see, east, back.

25 mai 2014

#Ulysse 840

Ah, see now ! Falls back suddenly, frozen in stereoscope. Click does the trick.

26 mai 2014

#Ulysse 841

You find my words dark.

27 mai 2014

#Ulysse 842

Darkness is in our souls do you not think ? Flutier.

28 mai 2014

#Ulysse 843

Our souls, shamewounded by our sins, cling to us yet more, a woman to her lover clinging, the more the more.

29 mai 2014

#Ulysse 844

She trusts me, her hand gentle, the longlashed eyes.

30 mai 2014

#Ulysse 845

Now where the blue hell am I bringing her beyond the veil ?

31 mai 2014

#Ulysse 846

Into the ineluctable modality of the ineluctable visuality.

1er juin 2014

#Ulysse 847

She, she, she. What she ?

2 juin 2014

#Ulysse 848

The virgin at Hodges Figgis’ window on Monday looking in for one of the alphabet
books you were going to write. Keen glance you gave her.

3 juin 2014

#Ulysse 849

Wrist through the braided jesse of her sunshade.

4 juin 2014

#Ulysse 850

She lives in Leeson park with a grief and kickshaws, a lady of letters.

5 juin 2014

#Ulysse 851

Talk that to someone else, Stevie : a pickmeup.

6 juin 2014

#Ulysse 852

Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool.

7 juin 2014

#Ulysse 853

Talk about apple dumplings, piuttosto. Where are your wits ?

8 juin 2014

#Ulysse 854

Touch me. Soft eyes. Soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here. O, touch me soon, now.

9 juin 2014

#Ulysse 855

What is that word known to all men ? I am quiet here alone. Sad too. Touch, touch me.

10 juin 2014

#Ulysse 856

He lay back at full stretch over the sharp rocks, cramming the scribbled note and pencil into a pock his hat. His hat down on his eyes.

11 juin 2014

#Ulysse 857

That is Kevin Egan’s movement I made, nodding for his nap, sabbath sleep. Et vidit Deus. Et erant valde bona. Alo ! Bonjour. Welcome as the flowers in May.

12 juin 2014

#Ulysse 858

Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the southing sun.

13 juin 2014

#Ulysse 859

I am caught in this burning scene.

14 juin 2014

#Ulysse 860

Pan’s hour, the faunal noon.

15 juin 2014

#Ulysse 861

16 juin 2014

#Ulysse 862

Pain is far.

And no more turn aside and brood.

17 juin 2014

#Ulysse 863

His gaze brooded on his broadtoed boots, a buck’s castoffs, nebeneinander.

18 juin 2014

#Ulysse 864

He counted the creases of rucked leather wherein another’s foot had nested warm.

19 juin 2014

#Ulysse 865

The foot that beat the ground in tripudium, foot I dislove.

20 juin 2014

#Ulysse 866

But you were delighted when Esther Osvalt’s shoe went on you : girl I knew in Paris. Tiens, quel petit pied !

21 juin 2014

#Ulysse 867

Staunch friend, a brother soul : Wilde’s love that dare not speak its name.

22 juin 2014

#Ulysse 868

His arm : Cranly’s arm.

23 juin 2014

#Ulysse 869

He now will leave me. And the blame ? As I am. As I am. All or not at all.

24 juin 2014

#Ulysse 870

In long lassoes from the Cock lake the water flowed full, covering greengoldenly lagoons of sand, rising, flowing.

25 juin 2014

#Ulysse 871

My ashplant will float away. I shall wait.

26 juin 2014

#Ulysse 872

No, they will pass on, passing, chafing against the low rocks, swirling, passing.

27 juin 2014

#Ulysse 873

Better get this job over quick. Listen : a fourworded wavespeech : seesoo, hrss, rsseeiss, ooos.

28 juin 2014

#Ulysse 874

Vehement breath of waters amid seasnakes, rearing horses, rocks.

29 juin 2014

#Ulysse 875

In cups of rocks it slops : flop, slop, slap : bounded in barrels.

30 juin 2014

#Ulysse 876

And, spent, its speech ceases. It flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling.

1er juillet 2014

#Ulysse 877

Under the upswelling tide he saw the writhing weeds lift languidly and sway reluctant arms, hising up their petticoats, in whispering water swaying and upturning coy silver fronds.

2 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 878

Day by day : night by night : lifted, flooded and let fall.

3 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 879

Lord, they are weary ; and, whispered to, they sigh.

4 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 880

Saint Ambrose heard it, sigh of leaves and waves, waiting, awaiting the fullness of their times, diebus ac noctibus iniurias patiens ingemiscit.

5 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 881

To no end gathered ; vainly then released, forthflowing, wending back : loom of the moon.

6 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 882

Weary too in sight of lovers, lascivious men, a naked woman shining in her courts, she draws a toil of waters.

7 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 883

Five fathoms out there. Full fathom five thy father lies.

8 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 884

At one, he said. Found drowned. High water at Dublin bar.

9 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 885

Driving before it a loose drift of rubble, fanshoals of fishes, silly shells.

10 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 886

A corpse rising saltwhite from the undertow, bobbing a pace a pace a porpoise landward.

11 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 887

There he is. Hook it quick. Pull.

12 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 888

Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor

13 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 889

We have him. Easy now.

14 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 890

Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine.

15 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 891

A quiver of minnows, fat of a spongy titbit, flash through the slits of his buttoned trouserfly.

16 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 892

God becomes man becomes fish becomes barnacle goose becomes featherbed

17 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 893

Dead breaths I living breathe, tread dead dust, devour a urinous offal from all dead.

18 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 894

Hauled stark over the gunwale he breathes upward the stench of his green grave, his leprous nosehole snoring to the sun.

19 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 895

A seachange this, brown eyes saltblue. Seadeath, mildest of all deaths known to man. Old Father Ocean.

20 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 896

Prix de paris : beware of imitations. Just you give it a fair trial. We enjoyed ourselves immensely.

21 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 897

Come. I thirst.

22 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 898

Clouding over. No black clouds anywhere, are there ? Thunderstorm.

23 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 899

Allbright he falls, proud lightning of the intellect, Lucifer, dico, qui nescit occasum.

24 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 900

No. My cockle hat and staff and hismy sandal shoon. Where ? To evening lands. Evening will find itself.

25 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 901

He took the hilt of his ashplant, lunging with it softly, dallying still.

26 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 902

Yes, evening will find itself in me, without me.

27 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 903

All days make their end.

28 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 904

By the way next when is it Tuesday will be the longest day.

29 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 905

Of all the glad new year, mother, the rum tum tiddledy tum. Lawn Tennyson, gentleman poet. Già.

30 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 906

For the old hag with the yellow teeth. And Monsieur Drumont, gentleman journalist. Già.

31 juillet 2014

#Ulysse 907

My teeth are very bad. Why, I wonder. Feel. That one is going too. Shells.

1er août 2014

#Ulysse 908

Ought I go to a dentist, I wonder, with that money ? That one. This. Toothless Kinch, the superman.

2 août 2014

#Ulysse 909

Why is that, I wonder, or does it mean something perhaps ?

3 août 2014

#Ulysse 910

My handkerchief. He threw it. I remember. Did I not take it up ?

4 août 2014

#Ulysse 911

His hand groped vainly in his pockets. No, I didn’t. Better buy one.

5 août 2014

#Ulysse 912

He laid the dry snot picked from his nostril on a ledge of rock, carefully. For the rest let look who will.

6 août 2014

#Ulysse 913

Behind. Perhaps there is someone.

7 août 2014

#Ulysse 914

He turned his face over a shoulder, rere regardant. Moving through the air high spars of a threemaster, her sails brailed up on the crosstrees, homing, upstream, silently moving, a silent ship. +

8 août 2014

#Ulysse 915

Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls.

9 août 2014

#Ulysse 916

He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods’ roes.

10 août 2014

#Ulysse 917

Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine.

11 août 2014

#Ulysse 918

Kidneys were in his mind as he moved about the kitchen softly, righting her breakfast things on the humpy tray.

12 août 2014

#Ulysse 919

Gelid light and air were in the kitchen but out of doors gentle summer morning everywhere. Made him feel a bit peckish.

13 août 2014

#Ulysse 920

The coals were reddening.

14 août 2014

#Ulysse 921

Another slice of bread and butter : three, four : right. She didn’t like her plate full. Right.

15 août 2014

#Ulysse 922

He turned from the tray, lifted the kettle off the hob and set it sideways on the fire.

16 août 2014

#Ulysse 923

It sat there, dull and squat, its spout stuck out.

17 août 2014

#Ulysse 924

Cup of tea soon. Good. Mouth dry.

18 août 2014

#Ulysse 925

The cat walked stiffly round a leg of the table with tail on high.
— Mkgnao !

19 août 2014

#Ulysse 926

—O, there you are, Mr Bloom said, turning from the fire.

20 août 2014

#Ulysse 927

The cat mewed in answer and stalked again stiffly round a leg of the table, mewing.

21 août 2014

#Ulysse 928

Just how she stalks over my writingtable. Prr. Scratch my head. Prr.

22 août 2014

#Ulysse 929

23 août 2014

#Ulysse 930

Clean to see : the gloss of her sleek hide, the white button under the butt of her tail, the green flashing eyes.

24 août 2014

#Ulysse 931

He bent down to her, his hands on his knees.
— Milk for the pussens, he said.

25 août 2014

#Ulysse 932

—Mrkgnao ! the cat cried.

26 août 2014

#Ulysse 933

They call them stupid. They understand what we say better than we understand them. She understands all she wants to.

27 août 2014

#Ulysse 934

Vindictive too. Cruel. Her nature. Curious mice never squeal. Seem to like it.

28 août 2014

#Ulysse 935

Wonder what I look like to her. Height of a tower ? No, she can jump me.

29 août 2014

#Ulysse 936

—Afraid of the chickens she is, he said mockingly. Afraid of the chookchooks. I never saw such a stupid pussens as the pussens.

30 août 2014

#Ulysse 937

—Mrkrgnao ! the cat said loudly.

31 août 2014

#Ulysse 938

She blinked up out of her avid shameclosing eyes, mewing plaintively and long, showing him her milkwhite teeth.

1er septembre 2014

#Ulysse 939

He watched the dark eyeslits narrowing with greed till her eyes were green stones.

2 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 940

Then he went to the dresser, took the jug Hanlon’s milkman had just filled for him, poured warmbubbled milk on a saucer and set it slowly on the floor.

3 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 941

—Gurrhr ! she cried, running to lap.

4 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 942

He watched the bristles shining wirily in the weak light as she tipped three times and licked lightly.

5 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 943

Wonder is it true if you clip them they can’t mouse after.

6 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 944

Why ?

7 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 945

They shine in the dark, perhaps, the tips. Or kind of feelers in the dark, perhaps.

8 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 946

He listened to her licking lap. Ham and eggs, no. No good eggs with this drouth. Want pure fresh water.

9 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 947

Thursday : not a good day either for a mutton kidney at Buckley’s. Fried with butter, a shake of pepper. Better a pork kidney at Dlugacz’s. While the kettle is boiling.

10 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 948

She lapped slower, then licking the saucer clean.

11 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 949

Why are their tongues so rough ? To lap better, all porous holes.

12 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 950

Nothing she can eat ? He glanced round him. No.

13 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 951

On quietly creaky boots he went up the staircase to the hall, paused by the bedroom door.

14 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 952

She might like something tasty. Thin bread and butter she likes in the morning. Still perhaps : once in a way.

15 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 953

He said softly in the bare hall :
— I’m going round the corner. Be back in a minute.

16 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 954

And when he had heard his voice say it he added :
— You don’t want anything for breakfast ?

17 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 955

A sleepy soft grunt answered :
— Mn.

18 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 956

No. She didn’t want anything.

19 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 957

He heard then a warm heavy sigh, softer, as she turned over and the loose brass quoits of the bedstead jingled.

20 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 958

Must get those settled really. Pity. All the way from Gibraltar. Forgotten any little Spanish she knew.

21 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 959

Wonder what her father gave for it. Old style. Ah yes ! of course. Bought it at the governor’s auction. Got a short knock. Hard as nails at a bargain, old Tweedy. Yes, sir.

22 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 960

At Plevna that was. I rose from the ranks, sir, and I’m proud of it.

23 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 961

Still he had brains enough to make that corner in stamps. Now that was farseeing.

24 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 962

His hand took his hat from the peg over his initialled heavy overcoat and his lost property office secondhand waterproof.

25 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 963

Stamps : stickyback pictures.

26 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 964

Daresay lots of officers are in the swim too. Course they do.

27 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 965

The sweated legend in the crown of his hat told him mutely : Plasto’s high grade ha.

28 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 966

He peeped quickly inside the leather headband. White slip of paper. Quite safe.

29 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 967

On the doorstep he felt in his hip pocket for the latchkey. Not there.

30 septembre 2014

#Ulysse 968

In the trousers I left off. Must get it. Potato I have. Creaky wardrobe. No use disturbing her.

1er octobre 2014

#Ulysse 969

She turned over sleepily that time.

2 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 970

He pulled the halldoor to after him very quietly, more, till the footleaf dropped gently over the threshold, a limp lid. Looked shut. All right till I come back anyhow.

3 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 971

He crossed to the bright side, avoiding the loose cellarflap of number seventyfive.

4 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 972

The sun was nearing the steeple of George’s church.

5 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 973

Be a warm day I fancy. Specially in these black clothes feel it more.

6 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 974

Black conducts, reflects, (refracts is it ?), the heat.

7 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 975

But I couldn’t go in that light suit. Make a picnic of it.

8 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 976

His eyelids sank quietly often as he walked in happy warmth.

9 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 977

Boland’s breadvan delivering with trays our daily but she prefers yesterday’s loaves turnovers crisp crowns hot. Makes you feel young.

10 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 978

Somewhere in the east : early morning : set off at dawn. Travel round in front of the sun, steal a day’s march on him.

11 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 979

Keep it up for ever never grow a day older technically.

12 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 980

Walk along a strand, strange land, come to a city gate, sentry there, old ranker too, old Tweedy’s big moustaches, leaning on a long kind of a spear.

13 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 981

Wander through awned streets. Turbaned faces going by.

14 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 982

Dark caves of carpet shops, big man, Turko the terrible, seated crosslegged, smoking a coiled pipe.

15 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 983

Cries of sellers in the streets.

16 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 984

Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet. Dander along all day.

17 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 985

Might meet a robber or two. Well, meet him.

18 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 986

Getting on to sundown.

19 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 987

The shadows of the mosques among the pillars : priest with a scroll rolled up.

20 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 988

A shiver of the trees, signal, the evening wind.

21 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 989

I pass on. Fading gold sky.

22 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 990

A mother watches me from her doorway. She calls her children home in their dark language.

23 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 991

24 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 992

25 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 993

26 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 994

Probably not a bit like it really. Kind of stuff you read : in the track of the sun. Sunburst on the titlepage.

27 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 995

28 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 996

What Arthur Griffith said about the headpiece over the Freeman leader : a homerule sun rising up in the northwest from the laneway behind the bank of Ireland.

29 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 997

He prolonged his pleased smile.

30 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 998

Ikey touch that : homerule sun rising up in the north-west.

31 octobre 2014

#Ulysse 999

He approached Larry O’Rourke’s.

1er novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1000

From the cellar grating floated up the flabby gush of porter.

2 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1001

Through the open doorway the bar squirted out whiffs of ginger, teadust, biscuitmush.

3 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1002

Good house, however : just the end of the city traffic.

4 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1003

For instance M’Auley’s down there : n. g. as position.

5 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1004

Of course if they ran a tramline along the North Circular from the cattlemarket to the quays value would go up like a shot.

6 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1005

Baldhead over the blind. Cute old codger.

7 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1006

No use canvassing him for an ad. Still he knows his own business best.

8 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1007

There he is, sure enough, my bold Larry, leaning against the sugarbin in his shirtsleeves watching the aproned curate swab up with mop and bucket.

9 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1008

Simon Dedalus takes him off to a tee with his eyes screwed up.

10 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1009

Do you know what I’m going to tell you ? What’s that, Mr O’Rourke ? Do you know what ? The Russians, they’d only be an eight o’clock breakfast for the Japanese.

11 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1010

Stop and say a word : about the funeral perhaps. Sad thing about poor Dignam, Mr O’Rourke.

12 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1011

Turning into Dorset street he said freshly in greeting through the doorway :
— Good day, Mr O’Rourke.

13 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1012

—Good day to you.

14 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1013

—Lovely weather, sir.

15 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1014

—’Tis all that.

16 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1015

Where do they get the money ?

17 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1016

Coming up redheaded curates from the county Leitrim, rinsing empties and old man in the cellar. Then, lo and behold, they blossom out as Adam Findlaters or Dan Tallons. Then thin of the competition. General thirst.

18 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1017

Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without passing a pub. Save it they can’t. Off the drunks perhaps. Put down three and carry five.

19 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1018

What is that, a bob here and there, dribs and drabs.

20 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1019

On the wholesale orders perhaps. Doing a double shuffle with the town travellers. Square it you with the boss and we’ll split the job, see ?

21 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1020

How much would that tot to off the porter in the month ?

22 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1021

Say ten barrels of stuff. Say he got ten per cent off. O more. Fifteen.

23 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1022

He passed Saint Joseph’s National school. Brats’ clamour. Windows open. Fresh air helps memory. Or a lilt.

24 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1023

Ahbeesee defeegee kelomen opeecue rustyouvee doubleyou.

25 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1024

26 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1025

27 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1026

The figures whitened in his mind, unsolved : displeased, he let them fade.

28 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1027

29 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1028

30 novembre 2014

#Ulysse 1029

1er décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1030

Would she buy it too, calling the items from a slip in her hand ?

2 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1031

Chapped : washingsoda. And a pound and a half of Denny’s sausages.

3 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1032

His eyes rested on her vigorous hips.

4 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1033

Woods his name is. Wonder what he does. Wife is oldish. New blood. No followers allowed. Strong pair of arms. Whacking a carpet on the clothesline. She does whack it, by George. The way her crooked skirt swings at each whack.

5 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1034

The ferreteyed porkbutcher folded the sausages he had snipped off with blotchy fingers, sausagepink.

6 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1035

Sound meat there : like a stallfed heifer.

7 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1036

8 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1037

Can become ideal winter sanatorium. Moses Montefiore. I thought he was. Farmhouse, wall round it, blurred cattle cropping.

9 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1038

He held the page from him : interesting : read it nearer, the title, the blurred cropping cattle, the page rustling.

10 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1039

A young white heifer.

11 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1040

12 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1041

He held the page aslant patiently, bending his senses and his will, his soft subject gaze at rest.

13 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1042

The crooked skirt swinging, whack by whack by whack.

14 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1043

The porkbutcher snapped two sheets from the pile, wrapped up her prime sausages and made a red grimace.
— Now, my miss, he said.

15 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1044

She tendered a coin, smiling boldly, holding her thick wrist out.

16 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1045

—Thank you, my miss. And one shilling threepence change. For you, please ?

17 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1046

Mr Bloom pointed quickly.

18 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1047

To catch up and walk behind her if she went slowly, behind her moving hams. Pleasant to see first thing in the morning.

19 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1048

Hurry up, damn it. Make hay while the sun shines.

20 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1049

She stood outside the shop in sunlight and sauntered lazily to the right.

21 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1050

He sighed down his nose : they never understand.

22 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1051

Sodachapped hands. Crusted toenails too. Brown scapulars in tatters, defending her both ways.

23 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1052

The sting of disregard glowed to weak pleasure within his breast.

24 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1053

25 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1054

—Threepence, please.

26 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1055

27 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1056

Then it fetched up three coins from his trousers’ pocket and laid them on the rubber prickles.

28 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1057

They lay, were read quickly and quickly slid, disc by disc, into the till.

29 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1058

—Thank you, sir. Another time.

30 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1059

A speck of eager fire from foxeyes thanked him. He withdrew his gaze after an instant. No : better not : another time.
— Good morning, he said, moving away.

31 décembre 2014

#Ulysse 1060

—Good morning, sir.

1er janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1061

2 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1062

He walked back along Dorset street, reading gravely.

3 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1063

Agendath Netaim : planters’ company.

4 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1064

5 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1065

Excellent for shade, fuel and construction.

6 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1066

Orangegroves and immense melonfields north of Jaffa.

7 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1067

You pay eighty marks and they plant a dunam of land for you with olives, oranges, almonds or citrons. Olives cheaper : oranges need artificial irrigation.

8 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1068

Every year you get a sending of the crop. Your name entered for life as owner in the book of the union. Can pay ten down and the balance in yearly instalments. Bleibtreustrasse 34, Berlin, W. 15.

9 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1069

Nothing doing. Still an idea behind it.

10 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1070

He looked at the cattle, blurred in silver heat. Silverpowdered olivetrees.

11 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1071

Quiet long days : pruning, ripening. Olives are packed in jars, eh ?

12 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1072

I have a few left from Andrews. Molly spitting them out. Knows the taste of them now.

13 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1073

Oranges in tissue paper packed in crates. Citrons too.

14 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1074

Wonder is poor Citron still in Saint Kevin’s parade. And Mastiansky with the old cither. Pleasant evenings we had then. Molly in Citron’s basketchair.

15 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1075

Nice to hold, cool waxen fruit, hold in the hand, lift it to the nostrils and smell the perfume. Like that, heavy, sweet, wild perfume. Always the same, year after year.

16 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1076

They fetched high prices too, Moisel told me.

17 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1077

Arbutus place : Pleasants street : pleasant old times.

18 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1078

Must be without a flaw, he said. Coming all that way : Spain, Gibraltar, Mediterranean, the Levant.

19 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1079

Crates lined up on the quayside at Jaffa, chap ticking them off in a book, navvies handling them barefoot in soiled dungarees.

20 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1080

There’s whatdoyoucallhim out of. How do you ? Doesn’t see. Chap you know just to salute bit of a bore. His back is like that Norwegian captain’s. Wonder if I’ll meet him today. Watering cart. To provoke the rain. On earth as it is in heaven.

21 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1081

A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly. Grey. Far.

22 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1082

No, not like that. A barren land, bare waste.

23 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1083

Vulcanic lake, the dead sea : no fish, weedless, sunk deep in the earth.

24 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1084

No wind could lift those waves, grey metal, poisonous foggy waters. Brimstone they called it raining down : the cities of the plain : Sodom, Gomorrah, Edom. All dead names.

25 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1085

A dead sea in a dead land, grey and old. Old now.

26 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1086

It bore the oldest, the first race. A bent hag crossed from Cassidy’s, clutching a naggin
bottle by the neck. The oldest people.

27 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1087

Wandered far away over all the earth, captivity to captivity, multiplying, dying, being born everywhere. It lay there now.

28 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1088

Now it could bear no more.

29 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1089

Dead : an old woman’s : the grey sunken cunt of the world.

30 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1090


31 janvier 2015

#Ulysse 1091

Grey horror seared his flesh.

1er février 2015

#Ulysse 1092

Folding the page into his pocket he turned into Eccles street, hurrying homeward.

2 février 2015

#Ulysse 1093

Cold oils slid along his veins, chilling his blood : age crusting him with a salt cloak. Well, I am here now. Yes, I am here now.

3 février 2015

#Ulysse 1094

Morning mouth bad images. Got up wrong side of the bed.

4 février 2015

#Ulysse 1095

Must begin again those Sandow’s exercises. On the hands down.

5 février 2015

#Ulysse 1096

Blotchy brown brick houses. Number eighty still unlet. Why is that ?

6 février 2015

#Ulysse 1097

Valuation is only twenty-eight.

7 février 2015

#Ulysse 1098

8 février 2015

#Ulysse 1099

To smell the gentle smoke of tea, fume of the pan, sizzling butter.

9 février 2015

#Ulysse 1100

Be near her ample bedwarmed flesh. Yes, yes.

10 février 2015

#Ulysse 1101

Quick warm sunlight came running from Berkeley road, swiftly, in slim sandals, along the brightening footpath.

11 février 2015

#Ulysse 1102

Runs, she runs to meet me, a girl with gold hair on the wind.

12 février 2015

#Ulysse 1103

Two letters and a card lay on the hallfloor. He stooped and gathered them.

13 février 2015

#Ulysse 1104

Mrs Marion Bloom. His quickened heart slowed at once. Bold hand. Mrs Marion.

14 février 2015

#Ulysse 1105

—Poldy !

15 février 2015

#Ulysse 1106

Entering the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes and walked through warm yellow twilight towards her tousled head.

16 février 2015

#Ulysse 1107

—Who are the letters for ?

17 février 2015

#Ulysse 1108

He looked at them. Mullingar. Milly.

18 février 2015

#Ulysse 1109

—A letter for me from Milly, he said carefully, and a card to you. And a letter for you.

19 février 2015

#Ulysse 1110

He laid her card and letter on the twill bedspread near the curve of her knees.
— Do you want the blind up ?

20 février 2015

#Ulysse 1111

Letting the blind up by gentle tugs halfway his backward eye saw her glance at the letter and tuck it under her pillow.
— That do ? he asked, turning.

21 février 2015

#Ulysse 1112

She was reading the card, propped on her elbow.
— She got the things, she said.

22 février 2015

#Ulysse 1113

He waited till she had laid the card aside and curled herself back slowly with a snug sigh.

23 février 2015

#Ulysse 1114

—Hurry up with that tea, she said. I’m parched.

24 février 2015

#Ulysse 1115

—The kettle is boiling, he said.

25 février 2015

#Ulysse 1116

But he delayed to clear the chair : her striped petticoat, tossed soiled linen : and lifted all in an armful on to the foot of the bed.

26 février 2015

#Ulysse 1117

As he went down the kitchen stairs she called :
— Poldy !

27 février 2015

#Ulysse 1118

—What ?

28 février 2015

#Ulysse 1119

—Scald the teapot.

1er mars 2015

#Ulysse 1120

On the boil sure enough : a plume of steam from the spout.

2 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1121

He scalded and rinsed out the teapot and put in four full spoons of tea, tilting the kettle then to let the water flow in.

3 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1122

4 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1123

While he unwrapped the kidney the cat mewed hungrily against him.

5 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1124

Give her too much meat she won’t mouse. Say they won’t eat pork. Kosher.

6 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1125

7 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1126

8 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1127

Then he slit open his letter, glancing down the page and over.

9 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1128

10 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1129

The tea was drawn.

11 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1130

12 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1131

I gave her the amberoid necklace she broke. Putting pieces of folded brown paper in the letterbox for her.

13 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1132

He smiled, pouring.

14 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1133

O, Milly Bloom, you are my darling.
You are my lookingglass from night to morning.
I’d rather have you without a farthing
Than Katey Keogh with her ass and garden.

15 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1134

Poor old professor Goodwin. Dreadful old case. Still he was a courteous old chap.

16 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1135

Oldfashioned way he used to bow Molly off the platform. And the little mirror in his silk hat.

17 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1136

The night Milly brought it into the parlour. O, look what I found in professor Goodwin’s hat !

18 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1137

All we laughed. Sex breaking out even then. Pert little piece she was.

19 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1138

He prodded a fork into the kidney and slapped it over : then fitted the teapot on the tray.

20 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1139

Its hump bumped as he took it up.

21 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1140

Everything on it ? Bread and butter, four, sugar, spoon, her cream. Yes.

22 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1141

He carried it upstairs, his thumb hooked in the teapot handle.

23 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1142

Nudging the door open with his knee he carried the tray in and set it on the chair by the bedhead.

24 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1143

25 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1144

She set the brasses jingling as she raised herself briskly, an elbow on the pillow.

26 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1145

He looked calmly down on her bulk and between her large soft bubs, sloping within her nightdress like a shegoat’s udder.

27 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1146

The warmth of her couched body rose on the air, mingling with the fragrance of the tea she poured.

28 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1147

29 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1148

Bold hand. Marion.
— O, Boylan, she said. He’s bringing the programme.

30 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1149

—What are you singing ?

31 mars 2015

#Ulysse 1150

La ci darem with J. C. Doyle, she said, and Love’s Old Sweet Song.

1er avril 2015

#Ulysse 1151

Her full lips, drinking, smiled. Rather stale smell that incense leaves next day. Like foul flowerwater.

2 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1152

—Would you like the window open a little ?

3 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1153

She doubled a slice of bread into her mouth, asking :
— What time is the funeral ?

4 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1154

—Eleven, I think, he answered. I didn’t see the paper.

5 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1155

Following the pointing of her finger he took up a leg of her soiled drawers from the bed. No ? Then, a twisted grey garter looped round a stocking : rumpled, shiny sole.

6 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1156

—No : that book.
Other stocking. Her petticoat.

7 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1157

—It must have fell down, she said.

8 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1158

He felt here and there. Voglio e non vorrei. Wonder if she pronounces that right : voglio.

9 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1159

Not in the bed. Must have slid down. He stooped and lifted the valance. The book, fallen, sprawled against the bulge of the orangekeyed chamberpot.

10 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1160

—Show here, she said. I put a mark in it. There’s a word I wanted to ask you.

11 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1161

She swallowed a draught of tea from her cup held by nothandle and, having wiped her fingertips smartly on the blanket, began to search the text with the hairpin till she reached the word.

12 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1162

—Met him what ? he asked.

13 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1163

—Here, she said. What does that mean ?

14 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1164

He leaned downward and read near her polished thumbnail.
— Metempsychosis ?

15 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1165

—Yes. Who’s he when he’s at home ?

16 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1166

—Metempsychosis, he said, frowning. It’s Greek : from the Greek. That means the transmigration of souls.

17 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1167

—O, rocks ! she said. Tell us in plain words.

18 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1168

He smiled, glancing askance at her mocking eyes. The same young eyes.

19 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1169

The first night after the charades. Dolphin’s Barn.

20 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1170

He turned over the smudged pages. Ruby : the Pride of the Ring. Hello. Illustration. Fierce Italian with carriagewhip. Must be Ruby pride of the on the floor naked. Sheet kindly lent.

21 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1171

The monster Maffei desisted and flung his victim from him with an oath.

22 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1172

Cruelty behind it all. Doped animals. Trapeze at Hengler’s. Had to look the other way. Mob gaping. Break your neck and we’ll break our sides.

23 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1173

24 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1174

—Did you finish it ? he asked.

25 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1175

—Yes, she said. There’s nothing smutty in it. Is she in love with the first fellow all the time ?

26 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1176

—Never read it. Do you want another ?

27 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1177

—Yes. Get another of Paul de Kock’s. Nice name he has.

28 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1178

She poured more tea into her cup, watching it flow sideways.

29 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1179

Must get that Capel street library book renewed or they’ll write to Kearney, my guarantor. Reincarnation : that’s the word.

30 avril 2015

#Ulysse 1180

—Some people believe, he said, that we go on living in another body after death, that we lived before. They call it reincarnation. That we all lived before on the earth thousands of years ago or some other planet. They say we have forgotten it. Some say they remember their past lives.

1er mai 2015

#Ulysse 1181

The sluggish cream wound curdling spirals through her tea. Bette remind her of the word : metempsychosis. An example would be better. An example ?

2 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1182

3 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1183

Tea before you put milk in.

4 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1184

Not unlike her with her hair down : slimmer.

5 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1185

Three and six I gave for the frame. She said it would look nice over the bed.

6 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1186

7 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1187

He turned the pages back.

8 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1188

—Metempsychosis, he said, is what the ancient Greeks called it. They used to believe you could be changed into an animal or a tree, for instance. What they called nymphs, for example.

9 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1189

Her spoon ceased to stir up the sugar. She gazed straight before her, inhaling through her arched nostrils.

10 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1190

—There’s a smell of burn, she said. Did you leave anything on the fire ?

11 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1191

—The kidney ! he cried suddenly.

12 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1192

He fitted the book roughly into his inner pocket and, stubbing his toes against the broken commode, hurried out towards the smell, stepping hastily down the stairs with a flurried stork’s legs.

13 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1193

Pungent smoke shot up in an angry jet from a side of the pan.

14 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1194

By prodding a prong of the fork under the kidney he detached it and turned it turtle on its back. Only a little burnt.

15 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1195

He tossed it off the pan on to a plate and let the scanty brown gravy trickle over it.

16 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1196

Cup of tea now.

17 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1197

He sat down, cut and buttered a slice of the loaf. He shore away the burnt flesh and flung it to the cat.

18 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1198

Then he put a forkful into his mouth, chewing with discernment the toothsome pliant meat. Done to a turn.

19 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1199

A mouthful of tea.

20 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1200

Then he cut away dies of bread, sopped one in the gravy and put it in his mouth.

21 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1201

22 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1202

He creased out the letter at his side, reading it slowly as he chewed, sopping another die of bread in the gravy and raising it to his mouth.

23 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1203

Dearest Papli
Thanks ever so much for the lovely birthday present. It suits me splendid. Everyone says I am quite the belle in my new tam. I got mummy’s Iovely box of creams and am writing. They are lovely. I am getting on swimming in the photo business now. Mr Coghlan took one of me and Mrs. Will send when developed. We did great biz yesterday. Fair day and all the beef to the heels were in. We are going to lough Owel on Monday with a few friends to make a scrap picnic. Give my love to mummy and to yourself a big kiss and thanks. I hear them at the piano downstairs. There is to be a concert in the Greville Arms on Saturday. There is a young student comes here some evenings named Bannon his cousins or something are big swells and he sings Boylan’s (I was on the pop of writing Blazes Boylan’s) song about those seaside girls. Tell him silly Milly sends my best respects. I must now close with fondest love
Your fond daughter, MILLY.
P. S. Excuse bad writing am in hurry. Byby. M.

24 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1204

Fifteen yesterday. Curious, fifteenth of the month too. Her first birthday away from home. Separation.

25 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1205

Remember the summer morning she was born, running to knock up Mrs Thornton in Denzille street. Jolly old woman. Lot of babies she must have helped into the world.

26 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1206

She knew from the first poor little Rudy wouldn’t live. Well, God is good, sir. She knew at once. He would be eleven now if he had lived.

27 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1207

His vacant face stared pityingly at the postscript. Excuse bad writing. Hurry. Piano downstairs.

28 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1208

Coming out of her shell.

29 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1209

Row with her in the XL Cafe about the bracelet. Wouldn’t eat her cakes or speak or look. Saucebox.

30 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1210

He sopped other dies of bread in the gravy and ate piece after piece of kidney.

31 mai 2015

#Ulysse 1211

Twelve and six a week. Not much. Still, she might do worse. Music hall stage. Young student.

1er juin 2015

#Ulysse 1212

He drank a draught of cooler tea to wash down his meal. Then he read the letter again : twice.

2 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1213

3 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1214

Vain : very.

4 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1215

He smiled with troubled affection at the kitchen window.

5 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1216

Day I caught her in the street pinching her cheeks to make them red. Anemic a little. Was given milk too long.

6 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1217

On the ERIN’S KING that day round the Kish. Damned old tub pitching about. Not a bit funky.

7 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1218

8 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1219

Seaside girls. Torn envelope. Hands stuck in his trousers’ pockets, jarvey off for the day, singing. Friend of the family. Swurls, he says. Pier with lamps, summer evening, band,

Those girls, those girls,
Those lovely seaside girls.

9 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1220

Milly too. Young kisses : the first. Far away now past. Mrs Marion. Reading, lying back now, counting the strands of her hair, smiling, braiding.

10 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1221

A soft qualm, regret, flowed down his backbone, increasing. Will happen, yes. Prevent. Useless : can’t move. Girl’s sweet light lips. Will happen too. He felt the flowing qualm spread over him. Useless to move now. Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. Full gluey woman’s lips.

11 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1222

Better where she is down there : away. Occupy her. Wanted a dog to pass the time. Might take a trip down there. August bank holiday, only two and six return. Six weeks off, however. Might work a press pass. Or through M’Coy.

12 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1223

The cat, having cleaned all her fur, returned to the meatstained paper, nosed at it and stalked to the door.

13 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1224

She looked back at him, mewing. Wants to go out.

14 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1225

Wait before a door sometime it will open. Let her wait. Has the fidgets. Electric. Thunder in the air. Was washing at her ear with her back to the fire too.

15 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1226

16 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1227

He stood up, undoing the waistband of his trousers.

17 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1228

The cat mewed to him.
— Miaow ! he said in answer. Wait till I’m ready.

18 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1229

Heaviness : hot day coming. Too much trouble to fag up the stairs to the landing.

19 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1230

A paper. He liked to read at stool. Hope no ape comes knocking just as I’m.

20 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1231

In the tabledrawer he found an old number of Titbits. He folded it under his armpit, went to the door and opened it.

21 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1232

The cat went up in soft bounds. Ah, wanted to go upstairs, curl up in a ball on the bed.

22 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1233

Listening, he heard her voice :
— Come, come, pussy. Come.

23 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1234

He went out through the backdoor into the garden : stood to listen towards the next garden. No sound. Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry. The maid was in the garden. Fine morning.

24 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1235

He bent down to regard a lean file of spearmint growing by the wall.

25 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1236

Make a summerhouse here. Scarlet runners. Virginia creepers.

26 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1237

Want to manure the whole place over, scabby soil. A coat of liver of sulphur.

27 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1238

All soil like that without dung. Household slops. Loam, what is this that is ?

28 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1239

29 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1240

Best of all though are the cattle, especially when they are fed on those oilcakes.

30 juin 2015

#Ulysse 1241

Mulch of dung. Best thing to clean ladies’ kid gloves. Dirty cleans. Ashes too.

1er juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1242

Reclaim the whole place. Grow peas in that corner there. Lettuce. Always have fresh greens then. Still gardens have their drawbacks. That bee or bluebottle here Whitmonday.

2 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1243

He walked on.

3 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1244

Where is my hat, by the way ? Must have put it back on the peg. Or hanging up on the floor.

4 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1245

Funny I don’t remember that. Hallstand too full. Four umbrellas, her raincloak. Picking up the letters. Drago’s shopbell ringing.

5 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1246

Queer I was just thinking that moment. Brown brillantined hair over his collar. Just had a wash and brushup.

6 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1247

Wonder have I time for a bath this morning. Tara street. Chap in the paybox there got away James Stephens, they say. O’Brien.

7 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1248

Deep voice that fellow Dlugacz has. Agendath what is it ? Now, my miss. Enthusiast.

8 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1249

He kicked open the crazy door of the jakes.

9 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1250

Better be careful not to get these trousers dirty for the funeral.

10 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1251

He went in, bowing his head under the low lintel.

11 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1252

Leaving the door ajar, amid the stench of mouldy limewash and stale cobwebs he undid his braces.

12 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1253

Before sitting down he peered through a chink up at the nextdoor windows. The king was in his countinghouse. Nobody.

13 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1254

Asquat on the cuckstool he folded out his paper, turning its pages over on his bared knees. Something new and easy. No great hurry. Keep it a bit.

14 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1255

Our prize titbit : Matcham’s Masterstroke. Written by Mr Philip Beaufoy, Playgoers’ Club, London.

15 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1256

Payment at the rate of one guinea a column has been made to the writer. Three and a half. Three pounds three. Three pounds, thirteen and six.

16 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1257

Quietly he read, restraining himself, the first column and, yielding but resisting, began the second.

17 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1258

Midway, his last resistance yielding, he allowed his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he read, reading still patiently that slight constipation of yesterday quite gone.

18 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1259

Hope it’s not too big bring on piles again. No, just right. So.

19 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1260

Ah ! Costive. One tabloid of cascara sagrada. Life might be so.

20 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1261

It did not move or touch him but it was something quick and neat.

21 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1262

Print anything now. Silly season.

22 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1263

He read on, seated calm above his own rising smell. Neat certainly. Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke by which he won the laughing witch who now.

23 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1264

Begins and ends morally. Hand in hand. Smart.

24 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1265

He glanced back through what he had read and, while feeling his water flow quietly, he envied kindly Mr Beaufoy who had written it and received payment of three pounds, thirteen and six.

25 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1266

Might manage a sketch. By Mr and Mrs L. M. Bloom. Invent a story for some proverb. Which ?

26 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1267

Time I used to try jotting down on my cuff what she said dressing. Dislike dressing together. Nicked myself shaving.

27 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1268

Biting her nether lip, hooking the placket of her skirt. Timing her. 9.l5. Did Roberts pay you yet ? 9.20. What had Gretta Conroy on ? 9.23. What possessed me to buy this comb ? 9.24. I’m swelled after that cabbage.

28 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1269

A speck of dust on the patent leather of her boot : rubbing smartly in turn each welt against her stockinged calf.

29 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1270

Morning after the bazaar dance when May’s band played Ponchielli’s dance of the hours.

30 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1271

Explain that : morning hours, noon, then evening coming on, then night hours.

31 juillet 2015

#Ulysse 1272

Washing her teeth. That was the first night. Her head dancing. Her fansticks clicking.

1er août 2015

#Ulysse 1273

Is that Boylan well off ?

2 août 2015

#Ulysse 1274

He has money. Why ?

3 août 2015

#Ulysse 1275

I noticed he had a good rich smell off his breath dancing.

4 août 2015

#Ulysse 1276

No use humming then. Allude to it.

5 août 2015

#Ulysse 1277

Strange kind of music that last night.

6 août 2015

#Ulysse 1278

The mirror was in shadow. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen vest against her full wagging bub. Peering into it. Lines in her eyes. It wouldn’t pan out somehow.

7 août 2015

#Ulysse 1279

Evening hours, girls in grey gauze. Night hours then : black with daggers and eyemasks. Poetical idea : pink, then golden, then grey, then black. Still, true to life also. Day : then the night.

8 août 2015

#Ulysse 1280

He tore away half the prize story sharply and wiped himself with it.

9 août 2015

#Ulysse 1281

10 août 2015

#Ulysse 1282

He pulled back the jerky shaky door of the jakes and came forth from the gloom into the air.

11 août 2015

#Ulysse 1283

In the bright light, lightened and cooled in limb, he eyed carefully his black trousers : the ends, the knees, the houghs of the knees. What time is the funeral ? Better find out in the paper.

12 août 2015

#Ulysse 1284

A creak and a dark whirr in the air high up. The bells of George’s church. They tolled the hour : loud dark iron.

Heigho ! Heigho !
Heigho ! Heigho !
Heigho ! Heigho !

13 août 2015

#Ulysse 1285

Quarter to. There again : the overtone following through the air, third.

14 août 2015

#Ulysse 1286

Poor Dignam !

15 août 2015

#Ulysse 1287

By lorries along sir John Rogerson’s quay Mr Bloom walked soberly, past Windmill lane, Leask’s the linseed crusher, the postal telegraph office.

16 août 2015

#Ulysse 1288

He turned from the morning noises of the quayside and walked through Lime street.

17 août 2015

#Ulysse 1289

18 août 2015

#Ulysse 1290

A smaller girl with scars of eczema on her forehead eyed him, listlessly holding her battered caskhoop.

19 août 2015

#Ulysse 1291

Tell him if he smokes he won’t grow. O let him ! His life isn’t such a bed of roses. Waiting outside pubs to bring da home. Come home to ma, da.

20 août 2015

#Ulysse 1292

Slack hour : won’t be many there.

21 août 2015

#Ulysse 1293

He crossed Townsend street, passed the frowning face of Bethel. El, yes : house of : Aleph, Beth.

22 août 2015

#Ulysse 1294

And past Nichols’ the undertaker. At eleven it is. Time enough.

23 août 2015

#Ulysse 1295

Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O’Neill’s. Singing with his eyes shut. Corny.
Met her once in the park. In the dark. What a lark. Police tout.

24 août 2015

#Ulysse 1296

Her name and address she then told with my tooraloom tooraloom tay.

25 août 2015

#Ulysse 1297

O, surely he bagged it. Bury him cheap in a whatyoumaycall. With my tooraloom, tooraloom, tooraloom, tooraloom.

26 août 2015

#Ulysse 1298

27 août 2015

#Ulysse 1299

Tea. Must get some from Tom Kernan. Couldn’t ask him at a funeral, though.

28 août 2015

#Ulysse 1300

While his eyes still read blandly he took off his hat quietly inhaling his hairoil and sent his right hand with slow grace over his brow and hair. Very warm morning.

29 août 2015

#Ulysse 1301

30 août 2015

#Ulysse 1302

His right hand came down into the bowl of his hat. His fingers found quickly a card behind the headband and transferred it to his waistcoat pocket.

31 août 2015

#Ulysse 1303

1er septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1304

His right hand once more more slowly went over his brow
and hair.

2 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1305

Then he put on his hat again, relieved : and read again : choice blend, made of the finest Ceylon brands. The far east.

3 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1306

Lovely spot it must be : the garden of the world, big lazy leaves to float about on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them. Wonder is it like that.

4 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1307

Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the sun in dolce far niente, not doing a hand’s turn all day. Sleep six months out of twelve. Too hot to quarrel. Influence of the climate. Lethargy. Flowers of idleness. The air feeds most. Azotes. Hothouse in Botanic gardens. Sensitive plants. Waterlilies. Petals too tired to. Sleeping sickness in the air. Walk on roseleaves. Imagine trying to eat tripe and cowheel.

5 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1308

Where was the chap I saw in that picture somewhere ?

6 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1309

Ah yes, in the dead sea floating on his back, reading a book with a parasol open.

7 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1310

Couldn’t sink if you tried : so thick with salt.

8 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1311

Because the weight of the water, no, the weight of the body in the water is equal to the weight of the what ? Or is it the volume is equal to the weight ? It’s a law something like that.

9 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1312

Vance in High school cracking his fingerjoints, teaching. The college curriculum. Cracking curriculum.

10 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1313

What is weight really when you say the weight ? Thirtytwo feet per second per second. Law of falling bodies : per second per second. They all fall to the ground. The earth. It’s the force of gravity of the earth is the weight.

11 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1314

He turned away and sauntered across the road.

12 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1315

13 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1316

As he walked he took the folded Freeman from his sidepocket, unfolded it, rolled it lengthwise in a baton and tapped it at each sauntering step against his trouserleg.

14 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1317

Careless air : just drop in to see. Per second per second. Per second for every second it means.

15 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1318

From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the door of the postoffice. Too late box. Post here. No-one. In.

16 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1319

He handed the card through the brass grill.
— Are there any letters for me ? he asked.

17 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1320

While the postmistress searched a pigeonhole he gazed at the recruiting poster with soldiers of all arms on parade : and held the tip of his baton against his nostrils, smelling freshprinted rag paper. No answer probably. Went too far last time.

18 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1321

The postmistress handed him back through the grill his card with a letter.

19 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1322

He thanked her and glanced rapidly at the typed envelope. Henry Flower Esq, c/o P. O. Westland Row, City.

20 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1323

Answered anyhow.

21 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1324

He slipped card and letter into his sidepocket, reviewing again the soldiers on parade.

22 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1325

Where’s old Tweedy’s regiment ? Castoff soldier. There : bearskin cap and hackle plume. No, he’s a grenadier. Pointed cuffs. There he is : royal Dublin fusiliers. Redcoats. Too showy.

23 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1326

That must be why the women go after them. Uniform. Easier to enlist and drill.

24 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1327

Maud Gonne’s letter about taking them off O’Connell street at night : disgrace to our Irish capital.

25 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1328

Griffith’s paper is on the same tack now : an army rotten with venereal disease : overseas or halfseasover empire.

26 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1329

27 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1330

He strolled out of the postoffice and turned to the right.

28 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1331

Talk : as if that would mend matters.

29 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1332

His hand went into his pocket and a forefinger felt its way under the flap of the envelope, ripping it open in jerks.

30 septembre 2015

#Ulysse 1333

1er octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1334

His fingers drew forth the letter the letter and crumpled the envelope in his pocket. Something pinned on : photo perhaps. Hair ? No.

2 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1335

M’Coy. Get rid of him quickly. Take me out of my way. Hate company when you.
— Hello, Bloom. Where are you off to ?

3 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1336

—Hello, M’Coy. Nowhere in particular.

4 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1337

—How’s the body ?

5 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1338

—Fine. How are you ?

6 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1339

—Just keeping alive, M’Coy said.

7 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1340

His eyes on the black tie and clothes he asked with low respect :
— Is there any… no trouble I hope ? I see you’re…

8 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1341

—O, no, Mr Bloom said. Poor Dignam, you know. The funeral is today.

9 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1342

—To be sure, poor fellow. So it is. What time ?

10 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1343

A photo it isn’t. A badge maybe.

11 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1344

—E… eleven, Mr Bloom answered.

12 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1345

—I must try to get out there, M’Coy said. Eleven, is it ? I only heard it last night. Who was telling me ? Holohan. You know Hoppy ?

13 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1346

—I know.

14 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1347

Mr Bloom gazed across the road at the outsider drawn up before the door of the Grosvenor.

15 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1348

The porter hoisted the valise up on the well.

16 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1349

She stood still, waiting, while the man, husband, brother, like her, searched his pockets for change.

17 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1350

Stylish kind of coat with that roll collar, warm for a day like this, looks like blanketcloth.

18 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1351

Careless stand of her with her hands in those patch pockets.

19 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1352

Like that haughty creature at the polo match.

20 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1353

Women all for caste till you touch the spot. Handsome is and handsome does. Reserved about to yield. The honourable Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man. Possess her once take the starch out of her.

21 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1354

—I was with Bob Doran, he’s on one of his periodical bends, and what do you call him Bantam Lyons. Just down there in Conway’s we were.

22 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1355

Doran Lyons in Conway’s.

23 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1356

She raised a gloved hand to her hair.

24 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1357

In came Hoppy. Having a wet. Drawing back his head and gazing far from beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the bright fawn skin shine in the glare, the braided drums.

25 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1358

Drawing back his head and gazing far from beneath his vailed eyelids he saw the bright fawn skin shine in the glare, the braided drums.

26 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1359

Clearly I can see today. Moisture about gives long sight perhaps. Talking of one thing or another. Lady’s hand. Which side will she get up ?

27 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1360

28 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1361

Off to the country : Broadstone probably. High brown boots with laces dangling. Wellturned foot. What is he foostering over that change for ? Sees me looking. Eye out for other fellow always. Good fallback. Two strings to her bow.

29 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1362

Why ? I said. What’s wrong with him ? I said.

30 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1363

Proud : rich : silk stockings.

31 octobre 2015

#Ulysse 1364

—Yes, Mr Bloom said.

1er novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1365

He moved a little to the side of M’Coy’s talking head. Getting up in a minute.

2 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1366

What’s wrong with him ? He said. He’s dead, he said. And, faith, he filled up. Is it Paddy Dignam ? I said. I couldn’t believe it when I heard it. I was with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it in the Arch. Yes, he said. He’s gone. He died on Monday, poor fellow.

3 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1367

Watch ! Watch ! Silk flash rich stockings white. Watch !

4 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1368

5 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1369

Lost it. Curse your noisy pugnose. Feels locked out of it. Paradise and the peri. Always happening like that. The very moment.

6 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1370

Girl in Eustace street hallway Monday was it settling her garter. Her friend covering the
display of esprit de corps. Well, what are you gaping at ?

7 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1371

8 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1372

—One of the best, M’Coy said.

9 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1373

The tram passed.

10 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1374

11 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1375

—Wife well, I suppose ? M’Coy’s changed voice said.

12 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1376

—O, yes, Mr Bloom said. Tiptop, thanks.

13 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1377

14 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1378

—My missus has just got an engagement. At least it’s not settled yet.

15 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1379

Valise tack again. By the way no harm. I’m off that, thanks.

16 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1380

Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness.
— My wife too, he said. She’s going to sing at a swagger affair in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on the twenty-fifth.

18 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1381

—That so ? M’Coy said. Glad to hear that, old man. Who’s getting it up ?

20 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1382

Mrs Marion Bloom. Not up yet. Queen was in her bedroom eating bread and. No book. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens.

21 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1383

Dark lady and fair man. Letter. Cat furry black ball. Torn strip of envelope.

Comes lo-ove’s old…

22 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1384

—It’s a kind of a tour, don’t you see, Mr Bloom said thoughtfully. Sweeeet song. There’s a committee formed. Part shares and part profits.

23 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1385

M’Coy nodded, picking at his moustache stubble.
— O, well, he said. That’s good news.

24 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1386

He moved to go.

25 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1387

—Well, glad to see you looking fit, he said. Meet you knocking around.

26 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1388

—Yes, Mr Bloom said.

27 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1389

—Tell you what, M’Coy said. You might put down my name at the funeral, will you ? I’d like to go but I mightn’t be able, you see. There’s a drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and then the coroner and myself would have to go down if the body is found. You just shove in my name if I’m not there, will you ?

28 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1390

—I’ll do that, Mr Bloom said, moving to get off. That’ll be all right.

29 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1391

— Right, M’Coy said brightly. Thanks, old man. I’d go if I possibly could. Well, tolloll. Just C. P. M’Coy will do.

30 novembre 2015

#Ulysse 1392

—That will be done, Mr Bloom answered firmly.

1er décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1393

Didn’t catch me napping that wheeze. The quick touch. Soft mark. I’d like my job.

2 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1394

Valise I have a particular fancy for. Leather. Capped corners, rivetted edges, double action lever lock.

3 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1395

Bob Cowley lent him his for the Wicklow regatta concert last year and never heard tidings of it from that good day to this.

4 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1396

Mr Bloom, strolling towards Brunswick street, smiled.

5 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1397

My missus has just got an. Reedy freckled soprano. Cheeseparing nose. Nice enough in its way : for a little ballad. No guts in it.

6 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1398

You and me, don’t you know : in the same boat. Softsoaping.

7 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1399

Give you the needle that would. Can’t he hear the difference ? Think he’s that way inclined a bit. Against my grain somehow. Thought that Belfast would fetch him.

8 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1400

I hope that smallpox up there doesn’t get worse. Suppose she wouldn’t let herself be vaccinated again. Your wife and my wife.

9 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1401

Wonder is he pimping after me ?

10 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1402

Mr Bloom stood at the corner, his eyes wandering over the multicoloured hoardings.

11 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1403

Cantrell and Cochrane’s Ginger Ale (Aromatic). Clery’s Summer Sale. No, he’s going on straight.

12 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1404

Hello. Leah tonight. Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Like to see her again in that.

13 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1405

Hamlet she played last night. Male impersonator. Perhaps he was a woman. Why Ophelia committed suicide.

14 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1406

Poor papa ! How he used to talk of Kate Bateman in that.

15 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1407

Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the afternoon to get in.

16 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1408

Year before I was born that was : sixtyfive.

17 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1409

And Ristori in Vienna. What is this the right name is ? By Mosenthal it is. Rachel, is it ?

18 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1410

No. The scene he was always talking about where the old blind Abraham recognises the voice and puts his fingers on his face.

19 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1411

Nathan’s voice ! His son’s voice ! I hear the voice of Nathan who left his father to die of grief and misery in my arms, who left the house of his father and left the God of his father.

20 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1412

Every word is so deep, Leopold.

21 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1413

Poor papa ! Poor man !

22 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1414

I’m glad I didn’t go into the room to look at his face. That day !

23 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1415

24 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1416

Mr Bloom went round the corner and passed the drooping nags of the hazard.

25 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1417

No use thinking of it any more. Nosebag time. Wish I hadn’t met that M’Coy fellow.

26 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1418

He came nearer and heard a crunching of gilded oats, the gently champing teeth.

27 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1419

Their full buck eyes regarded him as he went by, amid the sweet oaten reek of horsepiss. Their Eldorado. Poor jugginses !

28 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1420

Damn all they know or care about anything with their long noses stuck in nosebags. Too full for words.

29 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1421

Still they get their feed all right and their doss.

30 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1422

Gelded too : a stump of black guttapercha wagging limp between their haunches.

31 décembre 2015

#Ulysse 1423

Might be happy all the same that way. Good poor brutes they look. Still their neigh can be very irritating.

1er janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1424

He drew the letter from his pocket and folded it into the newspaper he carried. Might just walk into her here. The lane is safer.

2 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1425

He passed the cabman’s shelter. Curious the life of drifting cabbies. All weathers, all places, time or setdown, no will of their own. Voglio e non.

3 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1426

Like to give them an odd cigarette. Sociable. Shout a few flying syllables as they pass. He hummed :

La ci darem la mano
La la lala la la.

4 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1427

He turned into Cumberland street and, going on some paces, halted in the lee of the station wall.

5 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1428

6 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1429

With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. Not a sinner.

7 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1430

Near the timberyard a squatted child at marbles, alone, shooting the taw with a cunnythumb.

8 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1431

A wise tabby, a blinking sphinx, watched from her warm sill. Pity to disturb them.

9 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1432

10 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1433

And once I played marbles when I went to that old dame’s school. She liked mignonette. Mrs Ellis’s. And Mr ?

11 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1434

12 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1435

A flower. I think it’s a. A yellow flower with flattened petals. Not annoyed then ? What does she say ?

13 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1436

Dear Henry
I got your last letter to me and thank you very much for it. I am sorry you did not like my last letter.

14 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1437

Why did you enclose the stamps ? I am awfully angry with you. I do wish I could punish you for that.

15 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1438

I called you naughty boy because I do not like that other world. Please tell me what is the real meaning of that word ? Are you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy ?

16 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1439

I do wish I could do something for you. Please tell me what you think of poor me.

17 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1440

I often think of the beautiful name you have. Dear Henry, when will we meet ? I think of you so often you have no idea.

18 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1441

I have never felt myself so much drawn to a man as you. I feel so bad about.

19 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1442

Please write me a long letter and tell me more. Remember if you do not I will punish you.

20 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1443

So now you know what I will do to you, you naughty boy, if you do not wrote.

21 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1444

O how I long to meet you.

22 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1445

Henry dear, do not deny my request before my patience are exhausted. Then I will tell you all.

23 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1446

Goodbye now, naughty darling, I have such a bad headache. today. and write by return to your longing

24 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1447

P. S. Do tell me what kind of perfume does your wife use. I want to know.

25 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1448

He tore the flower gravely from its pinhold smelt its almost no smell and placed it in his heart pocket.

26 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1449

Language of flowers. They like it because no-one can hear. Or a poison bouquet to strike him down.

27 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1450

Then walking slowly forward he read the letter again, murmuring here and there a word.

28 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1451

Angry tulips with you darling manflower punish your cactus iif you don’t please poor forgetmenot how I long violets to dear roses when we soon anemone meet all naughty nightstalk wife Martha’s perfume.

29 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1452

Having read it all he took it from the newspaper and put it back in his sidepocket.

30 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1453

Weak joy opened his lips. Changed since the first letter. Wonder did she wrote it herself.

31 janvier 2016

#Ulysse 1454

Doing the indignant : a girl of good family like me, respectable character. Could meet one Sunday after the rosary. Thank you : not having any.

1er février 2016

#Ulysse 1455

Usual love scrimmage. Then running round corners. Bad as a row with Molly.

2 février 2016

#Ulysse 1456

Cigar has a cooling effect. Narcotic.

3 février 2016

#Ulysse 1457

Go further next time.

4 février 2016

#Ulysse 1458

Naughty boy : punish : afraid of words, of course. Brutal, why not ? Try it anyhow. A bit at a time.

5 février 2016

#Ulysse 1459

Fingering still the letter in his pocket he drew the pin out of it. Common pin, eh ? He threw it on the road.

6 février 2016

#Ulysse 1460

Out of her clothes somewhere : pinned together. Queer the number of pins they always have. No roses without thorns.

7 février 2016

#Ulysse 1461

Flat Dublin voices bawled in his head. Those two sluts that night in the Coombe, linked together in the rain.

O, Mary lost the pin of her drawers.
She didn’t know what to do
To keep it up
To keep it up.

8 février 2016

#Ulysse 1462

It ? Them.

9 février 2016

#Ulysse 1463

Such a bad headache. Has her roses probably. Or sitting all day typing. Eyefocus bad for stomach nerves. What perfume does your wife use. Now could you make out a thing like that ?

10 février 2016

#Ulysse 1464

To keep it up.

11 février 2016

#Ulysse 1465

Martha, Mary. I saw that picture somewhere I forget now old master or faked for money. He is sitting in their house, talking. Mysterious. Also the two sluts in the Coombe would listen.

12 février 2016

#Ulysse 1466

To keep it up.

13 février 2016

#Ulysse 1467

Nice kind of evening feeling. No more wandering about. Just loll there : quiet dusk : let everything rip. Forget. Tell about places you have been, strange customs.

14 février 2016

#Ulysse 1468

The other one, jar on her head, was getting the supper : fruit, olives, lovely cool water out of a well, stonecold like the hole in the wall at Ashtown. Must carry a paper goblet next time I go to the trottingmatches.

15 février 2016

#Ulysse 1469

16 février 2016

#Ulysse 1470

17 février 2016

#Ulysse 1471

Henry Flower. You could tear up a cheque for a hundred pounds in the same way. Simple bit of paper.

18 février 2016

#Ulysse 1472

Lord Iveagh once cashed a sevenfigure cheque for a million in the bank of Ireland. Shows you the money to be made out of porter.

19 février 2016

#Ulysse 1473

Still the other brother lord Ardilaun has to change his shirt four times a day, they say. Skin breeds lice or vermin.

20 février 2016

#Ulysse 1474

A million pounds, wait a moment.

21 février 2016

#Ulysse 1475

Twopence a pint, fourpence a quart, eightpence a gallon of porter, no, one and fourpence a gallon of porter. One and four into twenty : fifteen about. Yes, exactly. Fifteen millions of barrels of porter.

22 février 2016

#Ulysse 1476

What am I saying barrels ? Gallons. About a million barrels all the same.

23 février 2016

#Ulysse 1477

An incoming train clanked heavily above his head, coach after coach. Barrels bumped in his head : dull porter slopped and churned inside.

24 février 2016

#Ulysse 1478

The bungholes sprang open and a huge dull flood leaked out, flowing together, winding through mudflats all over the level land, a lazy pooling swirl of liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its froth.

25 février 2016

#Ulysse 1479

He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows.

26 février 2016

#Ulysse 1480

Stepping into the porch he doffed his hat, took the card from his pocket and tucked it again behind the leather headband.

27 février 2016

#Ulysse 1481

Damn it. I might have tried to work M’Coy for a pass to Mullingar.

28 février 2016

#Ulysse 1482

Same notice on the door. Sermon by the very reverend John Conmee S.J. on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the African Mission. Prayers for the conversion of Gladstone they had too when he was almost unconscious. The protestants are the same.

29 février 2016

#Ulysse 1483

Convert Dr William J. Walsh D.D. to the true religion. Save China’s millions. Wonder how they explain it to the heathen Chinee.

1er mars 2016

#Ulysse 1484

Wonder how they explain it to the heathen Chinee. Prefer an ounce of opium. Celestials. Rank heresy for them.

2 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1485

Buddha their god lying on his side in the museum. Taking it easy with hand under his cheek. Josssticks burning. Not like Ecce Homo. Crown of thorns and cross.

3 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1486

Clever idea Saint Patrick the shamrock. Chopsticks ? Conmee : Martin Cunningham knows him : distinguishedlooking.

4 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1487

Sorry I didn’t work him about getting Molly into the choir instead of that Father Farley who looked a fool but wasn’t. They’re taught that.

5 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1488

He’s not going out in bluey specs with the sweat rolling off him to baptise blacks, is he ?

6 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1489

The glasses would take their fancy, flashing. Like to see them sitting round in a ring with blub lips, entranced, listening. Still life. Lap it up like milk, I suppose.

7 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1490

The cold smell of sacred stone called him. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the rere.

8 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1491

Something going on : some sodality.

9 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1492

Pity so empty.

10 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1493

Nice discreet place to be next some girl. Who is my neighbour ? Jammed by the hour to slow music. That woman at midnight mass. Seventh heaven.

11 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1494

Women knelt in the benches with crimson halters round their necks, heads bowed. A batch knelt at the altarrails.

12 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1495

The priest went along by them, murmuring, holding the thing in his hands.

13 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1496

He stopped at each, took out a communion, shook a drop or two (are they in water ?) off it and put it neatly into her mouth. Her hat and head sank.

14 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1497

Then the next one. Her hat sank at once.

15 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1498

Then the next one : a small old woman. The priest bent down to put it into her mouth, murmuring all the time. Latin.

16 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1499

The next one. Shut your eyes and open your mouth. What ? Corpus : body. Corpse.

17 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1500

Good idea the Latin. Stupefies them first. Hospice for the dying.

18 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1501

19 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1502

Rum idea : eating bits of a corpse. Why the cannibals cotton to it.

20 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1503

He stood aside watching their blind masks pass down the aisle, one by one, and seek their places.

21 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1504

He approached a bench and seated himself in its corner, nursing his hat and newspaper.

22 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1505

These pots we have to wear. We ought to have hats modelled on our heads.

23 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1506

They were about him here and there, with heads still bowed in their crimson halters, waiting for it to melt in their stomachs.

24 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1507

Something like those mazzoth : it’s that sort of bread : unleavened shewbread. Look at them.

25 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1508

Now I bet it makes them feel happy. Lollipop. It does.

26 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1509

Yes, bread of angels it’s called.

27 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1510

There’s a big idea behind it, kind of kingdom of God is within you feel.

28 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1511

First communicants. Hokypoky penny a lump.

29 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1512

Then feel all like one family party, same in the theatre, all in the same swim. They do. I’m sure of that.

30 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1513

Not so lonely. In our confraternity. Then come out a bit spreeish. Let off steam.

31 mars 2016

#Ulysse 1514

Thing is if you really believe in it. Lourdes cure, waters of oblivion, and the Knock apparition, statues bleeding.

1er avril 2016

#Ulysse 1515

Old fellow asleep near that confessionbox. Hence those snores. Blind faith. Safe in the arms of kingdom come. Lulls all pain. Wake this time next year.

2 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1516

He saw the priest stow the communion cup away, well in, and kneel an instant before it, showing a large grey bootsole from under the lace affair he had on.

3 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1517

Suppose he lost the pin of his. He wouldn’t know what to do to.

4 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1518

5 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1519

Letters on his back : I.N.R.I ? No : I.H.S.

6 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1520

Molly told me one time I asked her. I have sinned : or no : I have suffered, it is. And the other one ? Iron nails ran in.

7 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1521

Meet one Sunday after the rosary. Do not deny my request. Turn up with a veil and black bag. Dusk and the light behind her.

8 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1522

She might be here with a ribbon round her neck and do the other thing all the same on the sly. Their character.

9 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1523

That fellow that turned queen’s evidence on the invincibles he used to receive the, Carey was his name, the communion every morning. This very church.

10 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1524

Peter Carey, yes. No, Peter Claver I am thinking of. Denis Carey.

11 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1525

And just imagine that. Wife and six children at home. And plotting that murder all the time.

12 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1526

Those crawthumpers, now that’s a good name for them, there’s always something shiftylooking about them.

13 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1527

They’re not straight men of business either.

14 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1528

O, no, she’s not here : the flower : no, no. By the way, did I tear up that envelope ? Yes : under the bridge.

15 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1529

By the way, did I tear up that envelope ? Yes : under the bridge.

16 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1530

The priest was rinsing out the chalice : then he tossed off the dregs smartly. Wine.

17 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1531

Makes it more aristocratic than for example if he drank what they are used to Guinness’s porter or some temperance beverage Wheatley’s Dublin hop bitters or Cantrell and Cochrane’s ginger ale (aromatic).

18 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1532

Doesn’t give them any of it : shew wine : only the other. Cold comfort.

19 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1533

Pious fraud but quite right : otherwise they’d have one old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a drink.

20 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1534

Queer the whole atmosphere of the. Quite right. Perfectly right that is.

21 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1535

Mr Bloom looked back towards the choir. Not going to be any music. Pity.

22 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1536

Who has the organ here I wonder ?

23 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1537

Old Glynn he knew how to make that instrument talk, the vibrato : fifty pounds a year they say he had in Gardiner street.

24 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1538

Molly was in fine voice that day, the Stabat Mater of Rossini.

25 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1539

Father Bernard Vaughan’s sermon first.

26 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1540

Christ or Pilate ? Christ, but don’t keep us all night over it. Music they wanted.

27 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1541

Footdrill stopped. Could hear a pin drop.

28 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1542

I told her to pitch her voice against that corner.

29 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1543

I could feel the thrill in the air, the full, the people looking up :
Quis est homo.

30 avril 2016

#Ulysse 1544

Some of that old sacred music splendid.Mercadante : seven last words. Mozart’s twelfth mass : Gloria in that.

1er mai 2016

#Ulysse 1545

Those old popes keen on music, on art and statues and pictures of all kinds. Palestrina for example too.

2 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1546

They had a gay old time while it lasted.

3 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1547

Healthy too, chanting, regular hours, then brew liqueurs. Benedictine. Green Chartreuse.

4 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1548

Still, having eunuchs in their choir that was coming it a bit thick. What kind of voice is it ? Must be curious to hear after their own strong basses. Connoisseurs.

5 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1549

Suppose they wouldn’t feel anything after. Kind of a placid. No worry. Fall into flesh, don’t they ? Gluttons, tall, long legs.

6 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1550

Who knows ? Eunuch. One way out of it.

7 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1551

He saw the priest bend down and kiss the altar and then face about and bless all the people.

8 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1552

All crossed themselves and stood up.

9 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1553

Mr Bloom glanced about him and then stood up, looking over the risen hats. Stand up at the gospel of course.

10 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1554

Then all settled down on their knees again and he sat back quietly in his bench.

11 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1555

The priest came down from the altar, holding the thing out from him, and he and the massboy answered each other in Latin.

12 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1556

Then the priest knelt down and began to read off a card :
— O God, our refuge and our strength…

13 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1557

Mr Bloom put his face forward to catch the words. English. Throw them the bone. I remember slightly. How long since your last mass ?

14 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1558

Glorious and immaculate virgin. Joseph, her spouse. Peter and Paul. More interesting if you understood what it was all about.

15 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1559

Wonderful organisation certainly, goes like clockwork.

16 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1560

Confession. Everyone wants to. Then I will tell you all. Penance. Punish me, please.

17 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1561

Great weapon in their hands. More than doctor or solicitor.

18 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1562

Woman dying to. And I schschschschschsch. And did you chachachachacha ? And why did you ? Look down at her ring to find an excuse.

19 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1563

Whispering gallery walls have ears. Husband learn to his surprise. God’s little joke. Then out she comes.

20 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1564

Repentance skindeep. Lovely shame. Pray at an altar. Hail Mary and Holy Mary. Flowers, incense, candles melting. Hide her blushes.

21 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1565

Salvation army blatant imitation. Reformed prostitute will address the meeting. How I found the Lord.

22 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1566

Squareheaded chaps those must be in Rome : they work the whole show. And don’t they rake in the money too ?

23 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1567

Bequests also : to the P.P. for the time being in his absolute discretion. Masses for the repose of my soul to be said publicly with open doors. Monasteries and convents.

24 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1568

The priest in that Fermanagh will case in the witnessbox. No browbeating him. He had his answer pat for everything.

25 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1569

Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church. The doctors of the church : they mapped out the whole theology of it.

26 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1570

The priest prayed :
— Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the hour of conflict. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil (may God restrain him, we humbly pray !) : and do thou, O prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God thrust Satan down to hell and with him those other wicked spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls.

27 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1571

The priest and the massboy stood up and walked off. All over. The women remained behind : thanksgiving.

28 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1572

Better be shoving along. Brother Buzz. Come around with the plate perhaps. Pay your Easter duty.

29 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1573

He stood up. Hello.

30 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1574

Were those two buttons of my waistcoat open all the time ? Women enjoy it. Never tell you. But we. Excuse, miss, there’s a (whh !) just a (whh !) fluff.

31 mai 2016

#Ulysse 1575

Or their skirt behind, placket unhooked. Glimpses of the moon. Annoyed if you don’t. Why didn’t you tell me before.

1er juin 2016

#Ulysse 1576

Still like you better untidy. Good job it wasn’t farther south.

2 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1577

He passed, discreetly buttoning, down the aisle and out through the main door into the light.

3 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1578

He stood a moment unseeing by the cold black marble bowl while before him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in the low tide of holy water.

4 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1579

Trams : a car of Prescott’s dyeworks : a widow in her weeds. Notice because I’m in mourning myself.

5 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1580

He covered himself.

6 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1581

How goes the time ? Quarter past. Time enough yet.

7 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1582

Better get that lotion made up. Where is this ? Ah yes, the last time. Sweny’s in Lincoln place.

8 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1583

Chemists rarely move. Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir.

9 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1584

Hamilton Long’s, founded in the year of the flood. Huguenot churchyard near there. Visit some day.

10 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1585

He walked southward along Westland row. But the recipe is in the other trousers. O, and I forgot that latchkey too.

11 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1586

Bore this funeral affair.

12 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1587

O well, poor fellow, it’s not his fault.

13 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1588

When was it I got it made up last ? Wait. I changed a sovereign I remember.

14 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1589

First of the month it must have been or the second.

15 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1590

16 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1591

The chemist turned back page after page.

17 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1592

Sandy shrivelled smell he seems to have. Shrunken skull. And old.

18 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1593

Quest for the philosopher’s stone. The alchemists.

19 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1594

Drugs age you after mental excitement. Lethargy then. Why ? Reaction. A lifetime in a night.

20 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1595

Gradually changes your character.

21 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1596

Living all the day among herbs, ointments, disinfectants. All his alabaster lilypots. Mortar and pestle. Aq. Dist. Fol. Laur. Te Virid. Smell almost cure you like the dentist’s doorbell.

22 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1597

Doctor Whack. He ought to physic himself a bit. Electuary or emulsion.

23 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1598

The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a bit of pluck.

24 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1599

Simples. Want to be careful. Enough stuff here to chloroform you.

25 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1600

Test : turns blue litmus paper red. Chloroform. Overdose of laudanum. Sleeping draughts. Lovephiltres. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for cough. Clogs the pores or the phlegm. Poisons the only cures. Remedy where you least expect it. Clever of nature.

26 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1601

—About a fortnight ago, sir ?

27 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1602

—Yes, Mr Bloom said.

28 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1603

He waited by the counter, inhaling slowly the keen reek of drugs, the dusty dry smell of sponges and loofahs. Lot of time taken up telling your aches and pains.

29 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1604

—Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom said, and then orangeflower water…

30 juin 2016

#Ulysse 1605

It certainly did make her skin so delicate white like wax.

1er juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1606

—And white wax also, he said.

2 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1607

Brings out the darkness of her eyes. Looking at me, the sheet up to her eyes, Spanish, smelling herself, when I was fixing the links in my cuffs.

3 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1608

Those homely recipes are often the best : strawberries for the teeth : nettles and rainwater : oatmeal they say steeped in buttermilk. Skinfood.

4 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1609

One of the old queen’s sons, duke of Albany was it ? had only one skin. Leopold, yes. Three we have. Warts, bunions and pimples to make it worse.

5 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1610

But you want a perfume too. What perfume does your ? Peau d’Espagne.

6 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1611

That orangeflower water is so fresh.

7 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1612

Nice smell these soaps have. Pure curd soap.

8 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1613

Time to get a bath round the corner. Hammam. Turkish. Massage. Dirt gets rolled up in your navel.

9 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1614

Nicer if a nice girl did it.

10 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1615

Also I think I. Yes I. Do it in the bath.

11 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1616

Curious longing I. Water to water. Combine business with pleasure.

12 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1617

Pity no time for massage. Feel fresh then all the day. Funeral be rather glum.

13 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1618

—Yes, sir, the chemist said. That was two and nine. Have you brought a bottle ?

14 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1619

—No, Mr Bloom said. Make it up, please. I’ll call later in the day and I’ll take one of these soaps. How much are they ?

15 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1620

—Fourpence, sir.

16 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1621

Mr Bloom raised a cake to his nostrils. Sweet lemony wax.
— I’ll take this one, he said. That makes three and a penny.

17 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1622

—Yes, sir, the chemist said. You can pay all together, sir, when you come back.

18 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1623

—Good, Mr Bloom said.

19 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1624

He strolled out of the shop, the newspaper baton under his armpit, the coolwrappered soap in his left hand.

20 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1625

At his armpit Bantam Lyons’ voice and hand said :
— Hello, Bloom. What’s the best news ? Is that today’s ? Show us a minute.

21 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1626

Shaved off his moustache again, by Jove ! Long cold upper lip. To look younger. He does look balmy. Younger than I am.

22 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1627

Bantam Lyons’s yellow blacknailed fingers unrolled the baton. Wants a wash too. Take off the rough dirt. Good morning, have you used Pears’ soap ? Dandruff on his shoulders. Scalp wants oiling.

23 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1628

—I want to see about that French horse that’s running today, Bantam Lyons said. Where the bugger is it ?

24 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1629

He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his high collar. Barber’s itch. Tight collar he’ll lose his hair. Better leave him the paper and get shut of him.

25 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1630

—You can keep it, Mr Bloom said.

26 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1631

—Ascot. Gold cup. Wait, Bantam Lyons muttered. Half a mo. Maximum the second.

27 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1632

28 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1633

Bantam Lyons raised his eyes suddenly and leered weakly.
— What’s that ? his sharp voice said.

29 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1634

—I say you can keep it, Mr Bloom answered. I was going to throw it away that moment.

30 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1635

Bantam Lyons doubted an instant, leering : then thrust the outspread sheets back on Mr Bloom’s arms.
— I’ll risk it, he said. Here, thanks.

31 juillet 2016

#Ulysse 1636

He sped off towards Conway’s corner. God speed scut.

1er août 2016

#Ulysse 1637

Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a neat square and lodged the soap in it, smiling.

2 août 2016

#Ulysse 1638

Silly lips of that chap. Betting. Regular hotbed of it lately. Messenger boys stealing to put on sixpence. Raffle for large tender turkey. Your Christmas dinner for threepence. Jack Fleming embezzling to gamble then smuggled off to America. Keeps a hotel now. They never come back. Fleshpots of Egypt.

3 août 2016

#Ulysse 1639

He walked cheerfully towards the mosque of the baths. Remind you of a mosque, redbaked bricks, the minarets. College sports today I see.

4 août 2016

#Ulysse 1640

He eyed the horseshoe poster over the gate of college park : cyclist doubled up like a cod in a pot. Damn bad ad. Now if they had made it round like a wheel. Then the spokes : sports, sports, sports : and the hub big : college. Something to catch the eye.

5 août 2016

#Ulysse 1641

There’s Hornblower standing at the porter’s lodge. Keep him on hands : might take a turn in there on the nod. How do you do, Mr Hornblower ? How do you do, sir ?

6 août 2016

#Ulysse 1642

Heavenly weather really. If life was always like that. Cricket weather. Sit around under sunshades. Over after over. Out. They can’t play it here. Duck for six wickets.

7 août 2016

#Ulysse 1643

Still Captain Culler broke a window in the Kildare street club with a slog to square leg.

8 août 2016

#Ulysse 1644

Donnybrook fair more in their line.

9 août 2016

#Ulysse 1645

And the skulls we were acracking when M’Carthy took the floor. Heatwave. Won’t last.

10 août 2016

#Ulysse 1646

Always passing, the stream of life, which in the stream of life we trace is dearer thaaan them all.

11 août 2016

#Ulysse 1647

Enjoy a bath now : clean trough of water, cool enamel, the gentle tepid stream. This is my body.

12 août 2016

#Ulysse 1648

He foresaw his pale body reclined in it at full, naked, in a womb of warmth, oiled by scented melting soap, softly laved.

13 août 2016

#Ulysse 1649

He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow : his navel, bud of flesh : and saw the dark tangled curls of his bush floating, floating hair of the stream around the limp father of thousands, a languid floating flower.

14 août 2016

#Ulysse 1650

Martin Cunningham, first, poked his silkhatted head into the creaking carriage and, entering deftly, seated himself.

15 août 2016

#Ulysse 1651

Mr Power stepped in after him, curving his height with care.

16 août 2016

#Ulysse 1652

—Come on, Simon.

17 août 2016

#Ulysse 1653

—After you, Mr Bloom said.

18 août 2016

#Ulysse 1654

Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, saying : Yes, yes.

19 août 2016

#Ulysse 1655

—Are we all here now ? Martin Cunningham asked. Come along, Bloom.

20 août 2016

#Ulysse 1656

Mr Bloom entered and sat in the vacant place.

21 août 2016

#Ulysse 1657

He pulled the door to after him and slammed it twice till it shut tight.

22 août 2016

#Ulysse 1658

He passed an arm through the armstrap and looked seriously from the open carriagewindow at the lowered blinds of the avenue. One dragged aside : an old woman peeping.

23 août 2016

#Ulysse 1659

Nose whiteflattened against the pane. Thanking her stars she was passed over. Extraordinary the interest they take in a corpse.

24 août 2016

#Ulysse 1660

Glad to see us go we give them such trouble coming. Job seems to suit them. Huggermugger in corners. Slop about in slipperslappers for fear he’d wake. Then getting it ready. Laying it out.

25 août 2016

#Ulysse 1661

Molly and Mrs Fleming making the bed. Pull it more to your side. Our windingsheet.

26 août 2016

#Ulysse 1662

Never know who will touch you dead. Wash and shampoo.

27 août 2016

#Ulysse 1663

I believe they clip the nails and the hair. Keep a bit in an envelope. Grows all the same after. Unclean job.

28 août 2016

#Ulysse 1664

All waited.

29 août 2016

#Ulysse 1665

Nothing was said.

30 août 2016

#Ulysse 1666

Stowing in the wreaths probably.

31 août 2016

#Ulysse 1667

I am sitting on something hard.

1er septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1668

Ah, that soap : in my hip pocket.

2 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1669

Better shift it out of that.

3 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1670

Wait for an opportunity.

4 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1671

All waited.

5 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1672

Then wheels were heard from in front, turning : then nearer : then horses’ hoofs. A jolt.

6 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1673

Their carriage began to move, creaking and swaying. Other hoofs and creaking wheels started behind.

7 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1674

The blinds of the avenue passed and number nine with its craped knocker, door ajar. At walking pace.

8 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1675

They waited still, their knees jogging, till they had turned and were passing along the tramtracks. Tritonville road. Quicker.

9 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1676

The wheels rattled rolling over the cobbled causeway and the crazy glasses shook rattling in the doorframes.

10 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1677

—What way is he taking us ? Mr Power asked through both windows.

11 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1678

—Irishtown, Martin Cunningham said. Ringsend. Brunswick street.

12 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1679

Mr Dedalus nodded, looking out.

13 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1680

—That’s a fine old custom, he said. I am glad to see it has not died out.
All watched awhile through their windows caps and hats lifted by passers. Respect.

14 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1681

The carriage swerved from the tramtrack to the smoother road past Watery lane. Mr Bloom at gaze saw a lithe young man, clad in mourning, a wide hat.

15 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1682

—There’s a friend of yours gone by, Dedalus, he said.

16 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1683

—Who is that ?

17 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1684

—Your son and heir.

18 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1685

—Where is he ? Mr Dedalus said, stretching over across.

19 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1686

The carriage, passing the open drains and mounds of rippedup roadway before the tenement houses, lurched round the corner and, swerving back to the tramtrack, rolled on noisily with chattering wheels.

20 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1687

Mr Dedalus fell back, saying :
— Was that Mulligan cad with him ? His fidus Achates !

21 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1688

—No, Mr Bloom said. He was alone.

22 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1689

—Down with his aunt Sally, I suppose, Mr Dedalus said, the Goulding faction, the drunken little costdrawer and Crissie, papa’s little lump of dung, the wise child that knows her own father.

23 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1690

Mr Bloom smiled joylessly on Ringsend road. Wallace Bros : the bottleworks : Dodder bridge.

24 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1691

Richie Goulding and the legal bag. Goulding, Collis and Ward he calls the firm. His jokes are getting a bit damp.

25 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1692

Great card he was. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a Sunday morning, the landlady’s two hats pinned on his head. Out on the rampage all night.

26 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1693

Beginning to tell on him now : that backache of his, I fear. Wife ironing his back. Thinks he’ll cure it with pills. All breadcrumbs they are. About six hundred per cent profit.

27 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1694

—He’s in with a lowdown crowd, Mr Dedalus snarled. That Mulligan is a contaminated bloody doubledyed ruffian by all accounts. His name stinks all over Dublin. But with the help of God and His blessed mother I’ll make it my business to write a letter one of those days to his mother or his aunt or whatever she is that will open her eye as wide as a gate. I’ll tickle his catastrophe, believe you me.

28 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1695

He cried above the clatter of the wheels :
— I won’t have her bastard of a nephew ruin my son. A counterjumper’s son. Selling tapes in my cousin, Peter Paul M’Swiney’s. Not likely.

29 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1696

He ceased.

30 septembre 2016

#Ulysse 1697

Mr Bloom glanced from his angry moustache to Mr Power’s mild face and Martin Cunningham’s eyes and beard, gravely shaking.

1er octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1698

Noisy selfwilled man. Full of his son. He is right. Something to hand on.

2 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1699

If little Rudy had lived. See him grow up. Hear his voice in the house. Walking beside Molly in an Eton suit.

3 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1700

My son. Me in his eyes. Strange feeling it would be. From me. Just a chance.

4 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1701

Must have been that morning in Raymond terrace she was at the window watching the two dogs at it by the wall of the cease to do evil. And the sergeant grinning up.

5 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1702

She had that cream gown on with the rip she never stitched. Give us a touch, Poldy. God, I’m dying for it. How life begins.

6 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1703

Got big then. Had to refuse the Greystones concert. My son inside her. I could have helped him on in life. I could. Make him independent. Learn German too.

7 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1704

—Are we late ? Mr Power asked.

8 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1705

—Ten minutes, Martin Cunningham said, looking at his watch.

9 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1706

Molly. Milly. Same thing watered down. Her tomboy oaths. O jumping Jupiter ! Ye gods and little fishes ! Still, she’s a dear girl. Soon be a woman. Mullingar. Dearest Papli. Young student. Yes, yes : a woman too. Life, life.

10 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1707

The carriage heeled over and back, their four trunks swaying.

11 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1708

—Corny might have given us a more commodious yoke, Mr Power said.

12 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1709

—He might, Mr Dedalus said, if he hadn’t that squint troubling him. Do you follow me ?
He closed his left eye.

13 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1710

Martin Cunningham began to brush away crustcrumbs from under his thighs.
— What is this, he said, in the name of God ? Crumbs ?

14 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1711

—Someone seems to have been making a picnic party here lately, Mr Power said.

15 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1712

All raised their thighs and eyed with disfavour the mildewed buttonless leather of the seats.

16 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1713

Mr Dedalus, twisting his nose, frowned downward and said :
— Unless I’m greatly mistaken. What do you think, Martin ?

17 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1714

—It struck me too, Martin Cunningham said.

18 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1715

Mr Bloom set his thigh down. Glad I took that bath. Feel my feet quite clean. But I wish Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better.

19 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1716

Mr Dedalus sighed resignedly.
— After all, he said, it’s the most natural thing in the world.

20 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1717

—Did Tom Kernan turn up ? Martin Cunningham asked, twirling the peak of his beard gently.

21 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1718

—Yes, Mr Bloom answered. He’s behind with Ned Lambert and Hynes.

22 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1719

—And Corny Kelleher himself ? Mr Power asked.

23 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1720

—At the cemetery, Martin Cunningham said.

24 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1721

—I met M’Coy this morning, Mr Bloom said. He said he’d try to come.

25 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1722

The carriage halted short.
— What’s wrong ?

26 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1723

—We’re stopped.

27 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1724

—Where are we ?

28 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1725

Mr Bloom put his head out of the window.
— The grand canal, he said.

29 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1726

Gasworks. Whooping cough they say it cures. Good job Milly never got it. Poor children ! Doubles them up black and blue in convulsions. Shame really. Got off lightly with illnesses compared. Only measles. Flaxseed tea. Scarlatina, influenza epidemics. Canvassing for death. Don’t miss this chance. Dogs’ home over there. Poor old Athos ! Be good to Athos, Leopold, is my last wish. Thy will be done. We obey them in the grave. A dying scrawl. He took it to heart, pined away. Quiet brute. Old men’s dogs usually are.

30 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1727

A raindrop spat on his hat.

31 octobre 2016

#Ulysse 1728

He drew back and saw an instant of shower spray dots over the grey flags. Apart. Curious. Like through a colander. I thought it would. My boots were creaking I remember now.

1er novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1729

—The weather is changing, he said quietly.

2 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1730

—A pity it did not keep up fine, Martin Cunningham said.

3 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1731

—Wanted for the country, Mr Power said. There’s the sun again coming out.

4 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1732

Mr Dedalus, peering through his glasses towards the veiled sun, hurled a mute curse at the sky.
— It’s as uncertain as a child’s bottom, he said.

5 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1733

—We’re off again.

6 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1734

The carriage turned again its stiff wheels and their trunks swayed gently.

7 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1735

Martin Cunningham twirled more quickly the peak of his beard.
— Tom Kernan was immense last night, he said. And Paddy Leonard taking him off to his face.

8 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1736

—O, draw him out, Martin, Mr Power said eagerly. Wait till you hear him, Simon, on Ben Dollard’s singing of The Croppy Boy.

9 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1737

—Immense, Martin Cunningham said pompously. His singing of that simple ballad, Martin, is the most trenchant rendering I ever heard in the whole course of my experience.

10 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1738

—Trenchant, Mr Power said laughing. He’s dead nuts on that. And the retrospective arrangement.

11 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1739

—Did you read Dan Dawson’s speech ? Martin Cunningham asked.

12 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1740

—I did not then, Mr Dedalus said. Where is it ?

13 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1741

—In the paper this morning.

14 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1742

Mr Bloom took the paper from his inside pocket. That book I must change for her.

15 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1743

—No, no, Mr Dedalus said quickly. Later on please.

16 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1744

Mr Bloom’s glance travelled down the edge of the paper, scanning the deaths : Callan, Coleman, Dignam, Fawcett, Lowry, Naumann, Peake, what Peake is that ? is it the chap was in Crosbie and Alleyne’s ? no, Sexton, Urbright.

17 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1745

Inked characters fast fading on the frayed breaking paper. Thanks to the Little Flower. Sadly missed. To the inexpressible grief of his. Aged 88 after a long and tedious illness. Month’s mind : Quinlan. On whose soul Sweet Jesus have mercy.

18 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1746

It is now a month since dear Henry fled
To his home up above in the sky
While his family weeps and mourns his loss
Hoping some day to meet him on high.

19 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1747

I tore up the envelope ? Yes. Where did I put her letter after I read it in the bath ? He patted his waistcoatpocket. There all right. Dear Henry fled. Before my patience are exhausted.

20 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1748

National school. Meade’s yard. The hazard. Only two there now. Nod- ding. Full as a tick. Too much bone in their skulls. The other trotting round with a fare. An hour ago I was passing there. The jarvies raised their hats.

21 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1749

A pointsman’s back straightened itself upright suddenly against a tramway standard by Mr Bloom’s window. Couldn’t they invent something automatic so that the wheel itself much handier ? Well but that fellow would lose his job then ? Well but then another fellow would get a job making the new invention ?

22 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1750

Antient concert rooms. Nothing on there. A man in a buff suit with a crape armlet. Not much grief there. Quarter mourning. People in law perhaps.

23 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1751

They went past the bleak pulpit of saint Mark’s, under the railway bridge, past the Queen’s theatre : in silence.

24 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1752

Hoardings : Eugene Stratton, Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Could I go to see LEAH tonight, I wonder. I said I. Or the Lily of Killarney ? Elster Grimes Opera Company. Big powerful change. Wet bright bills for next week. Fun on the Bristol. Martin Cun- ningham could work a pass for the Gaiety. Have to stand a drink or two. As broad as it’s long.

25 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1753

He’s coming in the afternoon. Her songs.

26 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1754

Plasto’s. Sir Philip Crampton’s memorial fountain bust. Who was he ?

27 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1755

—How do you do ? Martin Cunningham said, raising his palm to his brow in salute.

28 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1756

—He doesn’t see us, Mr Power said. Yes, he does. How do you do ?

29 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1757

—Who ? Mr Dedalus asked.

30 novembre 2016

#Ulysse 1758

—Blazes Boylan, Mr Power said. There he is airing his quiff.

1er décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1759

Just that moment I was thinking.

2 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1760

Mr Dedalus bent across to salute. From the door of the Red Bank the white disc of a straw hat flashed reply : spruce figure : passed.

3 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1761

Mr Bloom reviewed the nails of his left hand, then those of his right hand. The nails, yes. Is there anything more in him that they she sees ?

4 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1762

Fascination. Worst man in Dublin. That keeps him alive.

5 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1763

They sometimes feel what a person is. Instinct. But a type like that.

6 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1764

My nails. I am just looking at them : well pared.

7 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1765

And after : thinking alone. Body getting a bit softy. I would notice that : from remembering.

8 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1766

What causes that ? I suppose the skin can’t contract quickly enough when the flesh falls off.

9 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1767

But the shape is there. The shape is there still. Shoulders. Hips. Plump. Night of the dance dressing. Shift stuck between the cheeks behind.

10 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1768

He clasped his hands between his knees and, satisfied, sent his vacant glance over their faces.

11 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1769

Mr Power asked :
— How is the concert tour getting on, Bloom ?

12 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1770

—O, very well, Mr Bloom said. I hear great accounts of it. It’s a good idea, you see...

13 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1771

—Are you going yourself ?

14 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1772

—Well no, Mr Bloom said. In point of fact I have to go down to the county Clare on some private business. You see the idea is to tour the chief towns. What you lose on one you can make up on the other.

15 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1773

—Quite so, Martin Cunningham said. Mary Anderson is up there now. Have you good artists ?

16 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1774

—Louis Werner is touring her, Mr Bloom said. O yes, we’ll have all topnobbers. J. C. Doyle and John MacCormack I hope and. The best, in fact.

17 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1775

—And Madame, Mr Power said smiling. Last but not least.

18 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1776

Mr Bloom unclasped his hands in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them.

19 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1777

Smith O’Brien. Someone has laid a bunch of flowers there. Woman. Must be his deathday. For many happy returns.

20 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1778

The carriage wheeling by Farrell’s statue united noiselessly their unresisting knees.

21 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1779

Oot : a dullgarbed old man from the curbstone tendered his wares, his mouth opening : oot.

22 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1780

—Four bootlaces for a penny.

23 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1781

Wonder why he was struck off the rolls. Had his office in Hume street. Same house as Molly’s namesake, Tweedy, crown solicitor for Waterford. Has that silk hat ever since. Relics of old decency. Mourning too. Terrible comedown, poor wretch ! Kicked about like snuff at a wake. O’Callaghan on his last legs.

24 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1782

And Madame. Twenty past eleven. Up. Mrs Fleming is in to clean. Doing her hair, humming. voglio e non vorrei. No. vorrei e non. Looking at the tips of her hairs to see if they are split. Mi trema un poco il. Beautiful on that tre her voice is : weeping tone. A thrush. A throstle. There is a word throstle that expresses that.

25 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1783

His eyes passed lightly over Mr Power’s goodlooking face. Greyish over the ears.

26 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1784

Madame : smiling. I smiled back. A smile goes a long way. Only politeness perhaps. Nice fellow.

27 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1785

Who knows is that true about the woman he keeps ? Not pleasant for the wife. Yet they say, who was it told me, there is no carnal. You would imagine that would get played out pretty quick. Yes, it was Crofton met him one evening bringing her a pound of rumpsteak. What is this she was ? Barmaid in Jury’s. Or the Moira, was it ?

28 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1786

They passed under the hugecloaked Liberator’s form.

29 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1787

Martin Cunningham nudged Mr Power.
— Of the tribe of Reuben, he said.

30 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1788

A tall blackbearded figure, bent on a stick, stumping round the corner of Elvery’s Elephant house, showed them a curved hand open on his spine.

31 décembre 2016

#Ulysse 1789

—In all his pristine beauty, Mr Power said.

1er janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1790

Mr Dedalus looked after the stumping figure and said mildly :
— The devil break the hasp of your back !

2 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1791

Mr Power, collapsing in laughter, shaded his face from the window as the carriage passed Gray’s statue.
— We have all been there, Martin Cunningham said broadly.

3 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1792

His eyes met Mr Bloom’s eyes.

4 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1793

He caressed his beard, adding :
— Well, nearly all of us.

5 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1794

Mr Bloom began to speak with sudden eagerness to his companions’ faces.
— That’s an awfully good one that’s going the rounds about Reuben J and the son.

6 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1795

—About the boatman ? Mr Power asked.

7 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1796

—Yes. Isn’t it awfully good ?

8 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1797

—What is that ? Mr Dedalus asked. I didn’t hear it.

9 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1798

—There was a girl in the case, Mr Bloom began, and he determined to send him to the Isle of Man out of harm’s way but when they were both ...

10 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1799

—What ? Mr Dedalus asked. That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it ?

11 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1800

—Yes, Mr Bloom said. They were both on the way to the boat and he tried to drown...

12 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1801

—Drown Barabbas ! Mr Dedalus cried. I wish to Christ he did !

13 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1802

Mr Power sent a long laugh down his shaded nostrils.

14 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1803

—No, Mr Bloom said, the son himself...

15 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1804

Martin Cunningham thwarted his speech rudely :
— Reuben and the son were piking it down the quay next the river on their way to the Isle of Man boat and the young chiseller suddenly got loose and over the wall with him into the Liffey.

16 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1805

17 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1806

—Dead ! Martin Cunningham cried. Not he ! A boatman got a pole and fished him out by the slack of the breeches and he was landed up to the father on the quay more dead than alive. Half the town was there.

18 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1807

—Yes, Mr Bloom said. But the funny part is...

19 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1808

—And Reuben J, Martin Cunningham said, gave the boatman a florin for saving his son’s life.

20 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1809

A stifled sigh came from under Mr Power’s hand.

21 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1810

—O, he did, Martin Cunningham affirmed. Like a hero. A silver florin.

22 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1811

—Isn’t it awfully good ? Mr Bloom said eagerly.

23 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1812

—One and eightpence too much, Mr Dedalus said drily.

24 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1813

Mr Power’s choked laugh burst quietly in the carriage.

25 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1814

Nelson’s pillar.

26 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1815

—Eight plums a penny ! Eight for a penny !

27 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1816

—We had better look a little serious, Martin Cunningham said.

28 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1817

Mr Dedalus sighed.
— Ah then indeed, he said, poor little Paddy wouldn’t grudge us a laugh. Many a good one he told himself.

29 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1818

—The Lord forgive me ! Mr Power said, wiping his wet eyes with his fingers. Poor Paddy ! I little thought a week ago when I saw him last and he was in his usual health that I’d be driving after him like this. He’s gone from us.

30 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1819

—As decent a little man as ever wore a hat, Mr Dedalus said. He went very suddenly.

31 janvier 2017

#Ulysse 1820

—Breakdown, Martin Cunningham said. Heart.
He tapped his chest sadly.

1er février 2017

#Ulysse 1821

Blazing face : redhot. Too much John Barleycorn. Cure for a red nose. Drink like the devil till it turns adelite. A lot of money he spent colouring it.

2 février 2017

#Ulysse 1822

Mr Power gazed at the passing houses with rueful apprehension.
— He had a sudden death, poor fellow, he said.

3 février 2017

#Ulysse 1823

—The best death, Mr Bloom said.

4 février 2017

#Ulysse 1824

Their wide open eyes looked at him.

5 février 2017

#Ulysse 1825

—No suffering, he said. A moment and all is over. Like dying in sleep. No-one spoke.

6 février 2017

#Ulysse 1826

No-one spoke.

7 février 2017

#Ulysse 1827

Dead side of the street this. Dull business by day, land agents, temper- ance hotel, Falconer’s railway guide, civil service college, Gill’s, catholic club, the industrious blind. Why ? Some reason. Sun or wind. At night too. Chummies and slaveys. Under the patronage of the late Father Mathew. Foundation stone for Parnell. Breakdown. Heart.

8 février 2017

#Ulysse 1828

White horses with white frontlet plumes came round the Rotunda corner, galloping. A tiny coffin flashed by. In a hurry to bury. A mourn- ing coach. Unmarried. Black for the married. Piebald for bachelors. Dun for a nun.

9 février 2017

#Ulysse 1829

—Sad, Martin Cunningham said. A child.

10 février 2017

#Ulysse 1830

A dwarf’s face, mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy’s was. Dwarf’s body, weak as putty, in a whitelined deal box. Burial friendly society pays. Penny a week for a sod of turf. Our. Little. Beggar. Baby. Meant nothing. Mistake of nature. If it’s healthy it’s from the mother. If not from the man. Better luck next time.

11 février 2017

#Ulysse 1831

—Poor little thing, Mr Dedalus said. It’s well out of it.

12 février 2017

#Ulysse 1832

The carriage climbed more slowly the hill of Rutland square. Rattle his bones. Over the stones. Only a pauper. Nobody owns.

13 février 2017

#Ulysse 1833

—In the midst of life, Martin Cunningham said.

14 février 2017

#Ulysse 1834

—But the worst of all, Mr Power said, is the man who takes his own life.

15 février 2017

#Ulysse 1835

Martin Cunningham drew out his watch briskly, coughed and put it back.

16 février 2017

#Ulysse 1836

—The greatest disgrace to have in the family, Mr Power added.

17 février 2017

#Ulysse 1837

—Temporary insanity, of course, Martin Cunningham said decisively. We must take a charitable view of it.

18 février 2017

#Ulysse 1838

—They say a man who does it is a coward, Mr Dedalus said.

19 février 2017

#Ulysse 1839

—It is not for us to judge, Martin Cunningham said.

20 février 2017

#Ulysse 1840

Mr Bloom, about to speak, closed his lips again.

21 février 2017

#Ulysse 1841

Martin Cunningham’s large eyes. Looking away now.

22 février 2017

#Ulysse 1842

Sympathetic human man he is. Intelli- gent. Like Shakespeare’s face. Always a good word to say.

23 février 2017

#Ulysse 1843

They have no mercy on that here or infanticide. Refuse christian burial. They used to drive a stake of wood through his heart in the grave. As if it wasn’t broken already. Yet sometimes they repent too late. Found in the river- bed clutching rushes. He looked at me.

24 février 2017

#Ulysse 1844

And that awful drunkard of a wife of his. Setting up house for her time after time and then pawning the furniture on him every Saturday almost. Leading him the life of the damned. Wear the heart out of a stone, that. Monday morning. Start afresh. Shoulder to the wheel. Lord, she must have looked a sight that night Dedalus told me he was in there. Drunk about the place and caper- ing with Martin’s umbrella.

And they call me the jewel of Asia,
Of Asia,
The Geisha.

25 février 2017

#Ulysse 1845

He looked away from me. He knows. Rattle his bones.

26 février 2017

#Ulysse 1846

That afternoon of the inquest. The redlabelled bottle on the table. The room in the hotel with hunting pictures. Stuffy it was. Sunlight through the slats of the Venetian blind. The coroner’s sunlit ears, big and hairy. Boots giving evidence. Thought he was asleep first. Then saw like yellow streaks on his face. Had slipped down to the foot of the bed. Verdict : overdose. Death by misadventure. The letter. For my son Leopold.

27 février 2017

#Ulysse 1847

No more pain. Wake no more. Nobody owns.

28 février 2017

#Ulysse 1848

The carriage rattled swiftly along Blessington street. Over the stones.

1er mars 2017

#Ulysse 1849

—We are going the pace, I think, Martin Cunningham said.

2 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1850

—God grant he doesn’t upset us on the road, Mr Power said.

3 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1851

—I hope not, Martin Cunningham said. That will be a great race tomorrow in Germany. The Gordon Bennett.

4 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1852

—Yes, by Jove, Mr Dedalus said. That will be worth seeing, faith.

5 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1853

As they turned into Berkeley street a streetorgan near the Basin sent over and after them a rollicking rattling song of the halls. Has anybody here seen Kelly ? Kay ee double ell wy. Dead March from Saul. He’s as bad as old Antonio. He left me on my ownio. Pirouette ! The Mater Misericordiae.

6 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1854

Eccles street. My house down there. Big place. Ward for in- curables there. Very encouraging. Our Lady’s Hospice for the dying. Deadhouse handy underneath. Where old Mrs Riordan died.

7 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1855

They look terrible the women. Her feeding cup and rubbing her mouth with the spoon. Then the screen round her bed for her to die.

8 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1856

Nice young student that was dressed that bite the bee gave me. He’s gone over to the lying-in hospital they told me. From one extreme to the other.

9 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1857

The carriage galloped round a corner : stopped.

10 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1858

—What’s wrong now ?

11 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1859

A divided drove of branded cattle passed the windows, lowing, slouching by on padded hoofs, whisking their tails slowly on their clotted bony croups. Outside them and through them ran raddled sheep bleating their fear.

12 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1860

—Emigrants, Mr Power said.

13 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1861

—Huuuh ! the drover’s voice cried, his switch sounding on their flanks. Huuuh ! out of that !

14 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1862

Thursday, of course. Tomorrow is killing day. Springers. Cuffe sold them about twentyseven quid each. For Liverpool probably. Roastbeef for old England. They buy up all the juicy ones. And then the fifth quarter lost : all that raw stuff, hide, hair, horns. Comes to a big thing in a year. Dead meat trade. Byproducts of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, soap, margarine. Wonder if that dodge works now getting dicky meat off the train at Clonsilla.

15 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1863

The carriage moved on through the drove.

16 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1864

—I can’t make out why the corporation doesn’t run a tramline from the parkgate to the quays, Mr Bloom said. All those animals could be taken in trucks down to the boats.

17 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1865

—Instead of blocking up the thoroughfare, Martin Cunningham said. Quite right. They ought to.

18 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1866

—Yes, Mr Bloom said, and another thing I often thought, is to have municipal funeral trams like they have in Milan, you know. Run the line out to the cemetery gates and have special trams, hearse and carriage and all. Don’t you see what I mean ?

19 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1867

—O, that be damned for a story, Mr Dedalus said. Pullman car and saloon diningroom.

20 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1868

—A poor lookout for Corny, Mr Power added.

21 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1869

—Why ? Mr Bloom asked, turning to Mr Dedalus. Wouldn’t it be more decent than galloping two abreast ?

22 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1871

—And, Martin Cunningham said, we wouldn’t have scenes like that when the hearse capsized round Dunphy’s and upset the coffin on to the road.

23 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1872

—That was terrible, Mr Power’s shocked face said, and the corpse fell about the road. Terrible !

23 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1870

—Well, there’s something in that, Mr Dedalus granted.

24 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1873

—First round Dunphy’s, Mr Dedalus said, nodding. Gordon Bennett cup.

25 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1874

—Praises be to God ! Martin Cunningham said piously.

26 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1875

Bom ! Upset. A coffin bumped out on to the road. Burst open. Paddy Dignam shot out and rolling over stiff in the dust in a brown habit too large for him. Red face : grey now. Mouth fallen open. Asking what’s up now. Quite right to close it. Looks horrid open. Then the insides decom- pose quickly. Much better to close up all the orifices. Yes, also. With wax. The sphincter loose. Seal up all.

27 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1876

—Dunphy’s, Mr Power announced as the carriage turned right.

28 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1877

Dunphy’s corner. Mourning coaches drawn up, drowning their grief. A pause by the wayside. Tiptop position for a pub. Expect we’ll pull up here on the way back to drink his health. Pass round the consolation. Elixir of life.

29 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1878

But suppose now it did happen. Would he bleed if a nail say cut him in the knocking about ? He would and he wouldn’t, I suppose. Depends on where. The circulation stops. Still some might ooze out of an artery. It would be better to bury them in red : a dark red.

30 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1879

In silence they drove along Phibsborough road. An empty hearse trot- ted by, coming from the cemetery : looks relieved.

31 mars 2017

#Ulysse 1880

Crossguns bridge : the royal canal.

1er avril 2017

#Ulysse 1881

Water rushed roaring through the sluices. A man stood on his drop- ping barge, between clamps of turf. On the towpath by the lock a slack- tethered horse. Aboard of the Bugabu.

2 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1882

Their eyes watched him.

3 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1883

On the slow weedy waterway he had floated on his raft coastward over Ireland drawn by a haulage rope past beds of reeds, over slime, mudchoked bottles, carrion dogs.

4 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1884

Athlone, Mullingar, Moyvalley, I could make a walking tour to see Milly by the canal. Or cycle down. Hire some old crock, safety.

5 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1885

Wren had one the other day at the auction but a lady’s.

6 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1886

Developing waterways. James M’Cann’s hobby to row me o’er the ferry. Cheaper transit. By easy stages. Houseboats. Camping out. Also hearses. To heaven by water.

7 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1887

Perhaps I will without writing. Come as a surprise, Leixlip, Clonsilla. Dropping down lock by lock to Dublin. With turf from the midland bogs.

8 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1888

Salute. He lifted his brown straw hat, saluting Paddy Dignam.

9 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1889

They drove on past Brian Boroimhe house. Near it now.

10 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1890

—I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Mr Power said.

11 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1891

—Better ask Tom Kernan, Mr Dedalus said.

12 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1892

—How is that ? Martin Cunningham said. Left him weeping, I suppose ?

13 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1893

—Though lost to sight, Mr Dedalus said, to memory dear.

14 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1894

The carriage steered left for Finglas road.

15 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1895

The stonecutter’s yard on the right. Last lap. Crowded on the spit of land silent shapes appeared, white, sorrowful, holding out calm hands, knelt in grief, pointing. Fragments of shapes, hewn. In white silence : ap- pealing. The best obtainable. Thos. H. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor.

16 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1896


17 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1897

On the curbstone before Jimmy Geary, the sexton’s, an old tramp sat, grumbling, emptying the dirt and stones out of his huge dustbrown yawning boot. After life’s journey.

18 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1898

Gloomy gardens then went by : one by one : gloomy houses.

19 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1899

Mr Power pointed.

20 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1900

—That is where Childs was murdered, he said. The last house.

21 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1901

—So it is, Mr Dedalus said. A gruesome case. Seymour Bushe got him off. Murdered his brother. Or so they said.

22 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1902

—The crown had no evidence, Mr Power said.

23 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1903

—Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham added. That’s the maxim of the law. Better for ninetynine guilty to escape than for one innocent person to be wrongfully condemned.

24 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1904

They looked. Murderer’s ground. It passed darkly. Shuttered, tenantless, unweeded garden. Whole place gone to hell. Wrongfully con- demned. Murder. The murderer’s image in the eye of the murdered. They love reading about it. Man’s head found in a garden. Her clothing consisted of. How she met her death. Recent outrage. The weapon used. Murderer is still at large. Clues. A shoelace. The body to be exhumed. Murder will out.

25 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1905

Cramped in this carriage.

26 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1906

She mightn’t like me to come that way without letting her know. Must be careful about women. Catch them once with their pants down. Never forgive you after. Fifteen.

27 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1907

The high railings of Prospect rippled past their gaze. Dark poplars, rare white forms. Forms more frequent, white shapes thronged amid the trees, white forms and fragments streaming by mutely, sustaining vain gestures on the air.

28 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1908

The felly harshed against the curbstone : stopped.

29 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1909

Martin Cunningham put out his arm and, wrenching back the handle, shoved the door open with his knee. He stepped out. Mr Power and Mr Dedalus followed.

30 avril 2017

#Ulysse 1910

Change that soap now. Mr Bloom’s hand unbuttoned his hip pocket swiftly and transferred the paperstuck soap to his inner handkerchief pocket. He stepped out of the carriage, replacing the newspaper his other hand still held.

1er mai 2017

#Ulysse 1911

Paltry funeral : coach and three carriages. It’s all the same. Pallbearers, gold reins, requiem mass, firing a volley. Pomp of death.

2 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1912

Beyond the hind carriage a hawker stood by his barrow of cakes and fruit. Simnel cakes those are, stuck together : cakes for the dead. Dogbiscuits. Who ate them ? Mourners coming out.

3 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1913

He followed his companions.

4 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1914

Mr Kernan and Ned Lambert followed, Hynes walking after them.

5 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1915

Corny Kelleher stood by the opened hearse and took out the two wreaths. He handed one to the boy.

6 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1916

Where is that child’s funeral disappeared to ?

7 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1917

A team of horses passed from Finglas with toiling plodding tread, dragging through the funereal silence a creaking waggon on which lay a granite block. The waggoner marching at their head saluted.

8 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1918

Coffin now. Got here before us, dead as he is.

9 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1919

Horse looking round at it with his plume skeowways. Dull eye : collar tight on his neck, pressing on a bloodvessel or something. Do they know what they cart out here every day ?

10 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1920

Must be twenty or thirty funerals every day. Then Mount Jerome for the protestants. Funerals all over the world everywhere every minute. Shovelling them under by the cartload doublequick. Thousands every hour. Too many in the world.

11 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1921

Mourners came out through the gates : woman and a girl. Leanjawed harpy, hard woman at a bargain, her bonnet awry. Girl’s face stained with dirt and tears, holding the woman’s arm, looking up at her for a sign to cry. Fish’s face, bloodless and livid.

12 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1922

The mutes shouldered the coffin and bore it in through the gates. So much dead weight. Felt heavier myself stepping out of that bath. First the stiff : then the friends of the stiff. Corny Kelleher and the boy fol- lowed with their wreaths. Who is that beside them ? Ah, the brother-in- law.

13 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1923

All walked after.

14 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1924

Martin Cunningham whispered :
— I was in mortal agony with you talking of suicide before Bloom.

15 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1925

—What ? Mr Power whispered. How so ?

16 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1926

—His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham whispered. Had
the Queen’s hotel in Ennis. You heard him say he was going to Clare. Anniversary.

17 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1927

—O God ! Mr Power whispered. First I heard of it. Poisoned himself ?

18 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1928

He glanced behind him to where a face with dark thinking eyes followed towards the cardinal’s mausoleum. Speaking.
— Was he insured ? Mr Bloom asked.

19 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1929

—I believe so, Mr Kernan answered. But the policy was heavily mort- gaged. Martin is trying to get the youngster into Artane.

20 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1930

—How many children did he leave ?

21 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1931

—Five. Ned Lambert says he’ll try to get one of the girls into Todd’s.

22 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1932

—A sad case, Mr Bloom said gently. Five young children.

23 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1933

—A great blow to the poor wife, Mr Kernan added.

24 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1934

—Indeed yes, Mr Bloom agreed.

25 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1935

Has the laugh at him now.

26 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1936

He looked down at the boots he had blacked and polished.

27 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1937

She had outlived him. Lost her husband. More dead for her than for me. One must outlive the other. Wise men say.

28 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1938

There are more women than men in the world. Condole with her. Your terrible loss. I hope you’ll soon follow him. For Hindu widows only.

29 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1939

She would marry another. Him ? No. Yet who knows after.

30 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1940

Widowhood not the thing since the old queen died. Drawn on a guncarriage. Victoria and Albert. Frogmore memorial mourning.

31 mai 2017

#Ulysse 1941

But in the end she put a few violets in her bonnet. Vain in her heart of hearts. All for a shadow. Consort not even a king. Her son was the substance. Something new to hope for not like the past she wanted back, waiting. It never comes.

1er juin 2017

#Ulysse 1942

One must go first : alone, under the ground : and lie no more in her warm bed.

2 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1943

—How are you, Simon ? Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands. Haven’t seen you for a month of Sundays.

3 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1944

—Never better. How are all in Cork’s own town ?

4 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1945

—I was down there for the Cork park races on Easter Monday, Ned Lambert said. Same old six and eightpence. Stopped with Dick Tivy.

5 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1946

6 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1947

—Nothing between himself and heaven, Ned Lambert answered.

7 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1948

—By the holy Paul ! Mr Dedalus said in subdued wonder. Dick Tivy bald ?

8 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1949

—Martin is going to get up a whip for the youngsters, Ned Lambert said, pointing ahead. A few bob a skull. Just to keep them going till the insurance is cleared up.

9 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1950

—Yes, yes, Mr Dedalus said dubiously. Is that the eldest boy in front ?

10 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1951

—Yes, Ned Lambert said, with the wife’s brother. John Henry Menton is behind. He put down his name for a quid.

11 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1952

—I’ll engage he did, Mr Dedalus said. I often told poor Paddy he ought to mind that job. John Henry is not the worst in the world.

12 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1953

—How did he lose it ? Ned Lambert asked. Liquor, what ?

13 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1954

—Many a good man’s fault, Mr Dedalus said with a sigh.

14 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1955

They halted about the door of the mortuary chapel.

15 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1956

Mr Bloom stood behind the boy with the wreath looking down at his sleekcombed hair and at the slender furrowed neck inside his brandnew collar.

16 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1957

Poor boy ! Was he there when the father ? Both unconscious. Lighten up at the last moment and recognise for the last time. All he might have done.

17 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1958

I owe three shillings to O’Grady. Would he understand ?

18 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1959

The mutes bore the coffin into the chapel. Which end is his head ?

19 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1960

After a moment he followed the others in, blinking in the screened light.

20 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1961

The coffin lay on its bier before the chancel, four tall yellow candles at its corners. Always in front of us.

21 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1962

Corny Kelleher, laying a wreath at each fore corner, beckoned to the boy to kneel. The mourners knelt here and there in prayingdesks.

22 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1963

Mr Bloom stood behind near the font and, when all had knelt, dropped carefully his unfolded newspaper from his pocket and knelt his right knee upon it.

23 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1964

He fitted his black hat gently on his left knee and, holding its brim, bent over piously.

24 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1965

A server bearing a brass bucket with something in it came out through a door.

25 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1966

The whitesmocked priest came after him, tidying his stole with one hand, balancing with the other a little book against his toad’s belly. Who’ll read the book ? I, said the rook.

26 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1967

They halted by the bier and the priest began to read out of his book with a fluent croak.

27 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1968

28 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1969

—Non intres in judicium cum servo tuo, Domine.

29 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1970

Makes them feel more important to be prayed over in Latin. Requiem mass. Crape weepers. Blackedged notepaper. Your name on the altarlist.

30 juin 2017

#Ulysse 1971

Chilly place this. Want to feed well, sitting in there all the morning in the gloom kicking his heels waiting for the next please.

1er juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1972

Eyes of a toad too. What swells him up that way ? Molly gets swelled after cabbage. Air of the place maybe. Looks full up of bad gas.

2 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1973

Must be an infernal lot of bad gas round the place. Butchers, for instance : they get like raw beefsteaks. Who was telling me ? Mervyn Browne.

3 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1974

Down in the vaults of saint Werburgh’s lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have to bore a hole in the coffins sometimes to let out the bad gas and burn it. Out it rushes : blue. One whiff of that and you’re a goner.

4 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1975

My kneecap is hurting me. Ow. That’s better.

5 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1976

The priest took a stick with a knob at the end of it out of the boy’s bucket and shook it over the coffin. Then he walked to the other end and shook it again. Then he came back and put it back in the bucket. As you were before you rested. It’s all written down : he has to do it.

6 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1977

—Et ne nos inducas in tentationem.

7 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1978

The server piped the answers in the treble. I often thought it would be better to have boy servants. Up to fifteen or so. After that, of course ...

8 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1979

Holy water that was, I expect. Shaking sleep out of it.

9 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1980

He must be fed up with that job, shaking that thing over all the corpses they trot up. What harm if he could see what he was shaking it over. Every mortal day a fresh batch : middleaged men, old women, children, women dead in childbirth, men with beards, baldheaded businessmen, consumptive girls with little sparrows’ breasts. All the year round he prayed the same thing over them all and shook water on top of them : sleep. On Dignam now.

10 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1982

Said he was going to paradise or is in paradise. Says that over everybody. Tiresome kind of a job. But he has to say something.

11 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1983

The priest closed his book and went off, followed by the server.

12 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1984

Corny Kelleher opened the sidedoors and the gravediggers came in, hoisted the coffin again, carried it out and shoved it on their cart.

13 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1985

Corny Kelleher gave one wreath to the boy and one to the brother-in-law.

14 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1986

All followed them out of the sidedoors into the mild grey air.

15 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1987

Mr Bloom came last folding his paper again into his pocket. He gazed gravely at the ground till the coffincart wheeled off to the left.

16 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1988

The metal wheels ground the gravel with a sharp grating cry and the pack of blunt boots followed the trundled barrow along a lane of sepulchres.

17 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1989

The ree the ra the ree the ra the roo. Lord, I mustn’t lilt here.

18 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1990

—The O’Connell circle, Mr Dedalus said about him.

19 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1991

Mr Power’s soft eyes went up to the apex of the lofty cone.
— He’s at rest, he said, in the middle of his people, old Dan O’. But his heart is buried in Rome. How many broken hearts are buried here, Simon !

20 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1992

—Her grave is over there, Jack, Mr Dedalus said. I’ll soon be stretched beside her. Let Him take me whenever He likes.

21 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1993

Breaking down, he began to weep to himself quietly, stumbling a little in his walk. Mr Power took his arm.

22 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1994

—She’s better where she is, he said kindly.

23 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1995

—I suppose so, Mr Dedalus said with a weak gasp. I suppose she is in heaven if there is a heaven.

24 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1996

Corny Kelleher stepped aside from his rank and allowed the mourners to plod by.

25 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1997

—Sad occasions, Mr Kernan began politely.

26 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1998

Mr Bloom closed his eyes and sadly twice bowed his head.

27 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 1999

—The others are putting on their hats, Mr Kernan said. I suppose we can do so too. We are the last. This cemetery is a treacherous place.

28 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 2000

They covered their heads.

29 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 2001

—The reverend gentleman read the service too quickly, don’t you think ? Mr Kernan said with reproof.

30 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 2002

Mr Bloom nodded gravely looking in the quick bloodshot eyes. Secret eyes, secretsearching. Mason, I think : not sure. Beside him again. We are the last. In the same boat. Hope he’ll say something else.

31 juillet 2017

#Ulysse 2003

Mr Kernan added :
— The service of the Irish church used in Mount Jerome is simpler, more impressive I must say.

1er août 2017

#Ulysse 2004

Mr Bloom gave prudent assent. The language of course was another thing.

2 août 2017

#Ulysse 2005

Mr Kernan said with solemnity :
— I am the resurrection and the life. That touches a man’s inmost heart.

3 août 2017

#Ulysse 2006

—It does, Mr Bloom said.

4 août 2017

#Ulysse 2007

Your heart perhaps but what price the fellow in the six feet by two with his toes to the daisies ? No touching that. Seat of the affections. Broken heart. A pump after all, pumping thousands of gallons of blood every day. One fine day it gets bunged up : and there you are. Lots of them lying around here : lungs, hearts, livers. Old rusty pumps : damn the thing else. The resurrection and the life. Once you are dead you are dead.

5 août 2017

#Ulysse 2008

That last day idea. Knocking them all up out of their graves. Come forth, Lazarus ! And he came fifth and lost the job. Get up ! Last day ! Then every fellow mousing around for his liver and his lights and the rest of his traps. Find damn all of himself that morning. Pennyweight of powder in a skull. Twelve grammes one pennyweight. Troy measure.

6 août 2017

#Ulysse 2009

Corny Kelleher fell into step at their side.
— Everything went off A1, he said. What ?

7 août 2017

#Ulysse 2010

He looked on them from his drawling eye. Policeman’s shoulders. With your tooraloom tooraloom.

8 août 2017

#Ulysse 2011

—As it should be, Mr Kernan said.

9 août 2017

#Ulysse 2012

—What ? Eh ? Corny Kelleher said.

10 août 2017

#Ulysse 2013

Mr Kernan assured him.

11 août 2017

#Ulysse 2014

—Who is that chap behind with Tom Kernan ? John Henry Menton asked. I know his face.

12 août 2017

#Ulysse 2015

Ned Lambert glanced back.
— Bloom, he said, Madame Marion Tweedy that was, is, I mean, the soprano. She’s his wife.

13 août 2017

#Ulysse 2016

—O, to be sure, John Henry Menton said. I haven’t seen her for some time. She was a finelooking woman. I danced with her, wait, fifteen seventeen golden years ago, at Mat Dillon’s in Roundtown. And a good armful she was.

14 août 2017

#Ulysse 2017

He looked behind through the others.
— What is he ? he asked. What does he do ? Wasn’t he in the stationery line ? I fell foul of him one evening, I remember, at bowls.

15 août 2017

#Ulysse 2018

Ned Lambert smiled.
— Yes, he was, he said, in Wisdom Hely’s. A traveller for blottingpaper.

16 août 2017

#Ulysse 2019

—In God’s name, John Henry Menton said, what did she marry a coon like that for ? She had plenty of game in her then.

17 août 2017

#Ulysse 2020

—Has still, Ned Lambert said. He does some canvassing for ads.

18 août 2017

#Ulysse 2021

John Henry Menton’s large eyes stared ahead.

19 août 2017

#Ulysse 2022

The barrow turned into a side lane. A portly man, ambushed among the grasses, raised his hat in homage. The gravediggers touched their caps.

20 août 2017

#Ulysse 2023

—John O’Connell, Mr Power said pleased. He never forgets a friend.

21 août 2017

#Ulysse 2024

Mr O’Connell shook all their hands in silence.

22 août 2017

#Ulysse 2025

Mr Dedalus said :
— I am come to pay you another visit.

23 août 2017

#Ulysse 2026

—My dear Simon, the caretaker answered in a low voice. I don’t want your custom at all.

24 août 2017

#Ulysse 2027

Saluting Ned Lambert and John Henry Menton he walked on at Martin Cunningham’s side puzzling two long keys at his back.

25 août 2017

#Ulysse 2028

—Did you hear that one, he asked them, about Mulcahy from the Coombe ?

26 août 2017

#Ulysse 2029

—I did not, Martin Cunningham said.

27 août 2017

#Ulysse 2030

They bent their silk hats in concert and Hynes inclined his ear. The caretaker hung his thumbs in the loops of his gold watchchain and spoke in a discreet tone to their vacant smiles.

28 août 2017

#Ulysse 2031

—They tell the story, he said, that two drunks came out here one foggy evening to look for the grave of a friend of theirs. They asked for Mulcahy from the Coombe and were told where he was buried. After traipsing about in the fog they found the grave sure enough. One of the drunks spelt out the name : Terence Mulcahy. The other drunk was blinking up at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up.

29 août 2017

#Ulysse 2032

The caretaker blinked up at one of the sepulchres they passed. He resumed :
— And, after blinking up at the sacred figure, Not a bloody bit like the man, says he. That’s not Mulcahy, says he, whoever done it.

30 août 2017

#Ulysse 2033

Rewarded by smiles he fell back and spoke with Corny Kelleher, accepting the dockets given him, turning them over and scanning them as he walked.

31 août 2017

#Ulysse 2034

—That’s all done with a purpose, Martin Cunningham explained to Hynes.

1er septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2035

—I know, Hynes said. I know that.

2 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2036

—To cheer a fellow up, Martin Cunningham said. It’s pure goodheartedness : damn the thing else.

3 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2037

Mr Bloom admired the caretaker’s prosperous bulk. All want to be on good terms with him. Decent fellow, John O’Connell, real good sort.

4 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2038

Keys : like Keyes’s ad : no fear of anyone getting out. No passout checks. Habeas corpus. I must see about that ad after the funeral.

5 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2039

Did I write Ballsbridge on the envelope I took to cover when she disturbed me writing to Martha ? Hope it’s not chucked in the dead letter office.

6 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2040

Be the better of a shave. Grey sprouting beard. That’s the first sign when the hairs come out grey. And temper getting cross. Silver threads among the grey.

7 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2041

Fancy being his wife. Wonder he had the gumption to propose to any girl.

8 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2042

Come out and live in the graveyard. Dangle that before her. It might thrill her first. Courting death...

9 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2043

Shades of night hovering here with all the dead stretched about.

10 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2044

The shadows of the tombs when churchyards yawn and Daniel O’Connell must be a descendant I suppose who is this used to say he was a queer breedy man great catholic all the same like a big giant in the dark.

11 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2045

Will o’ the wisp. Gas of graves. Want to keep her mind off it to conceive at all. Women especially are so touchy.

12 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2046

Tell her a ghost story in bed to make her sleep. Have you ever seen a ghost ? Well, I have. It was a pitchdark night. The clock was on the stroke of twelve.

13 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2047

Still they’d kiss all right if properly keyed up. Whores in Turkish graveyards. Learn anything if taken young.

14 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2048

Whores in Turkish graveyards. Learn anything if taken young.

15 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2049

You might pick up a young widow here. Men like that. Love among the tombstones. Romeo. Spice of pleasure. In the midst of death we are in life. Both ends meet. Tantalising for the poor dead. Smell of grilled beefsteaks to the starving. Gnawing their vitals. Desire to grig people. Molly wanting to do it at the window.

16 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2050

17 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2051

He has seen a fair share go under in his time, lying around him field after field. Holy fields.

18 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2052

More room if they buried them standing. Sitting or kneeling you couldn’t.

19 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2053

Standing ? His head might come up some day above ground in a landslip with his hand pointing.

20 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2054

All honeycombed the ground must be : oblong cells.

21 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2055

And very neat he keeps it too : trim grass and edgings. His garden Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome. Well, so it is.

22 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2056

Ought to be flowers of sleep. Chinese cemeteries with giant poppies growing produce the best opium Mastiansky told me. The Botanic Gardens are just over there.

23 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2057

It’s the blood sinking in the earth gives new life. Same idea those jews they said killed the christian boy.

24 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2058

Every man his price. Well preserved fat corpse, gentleman, epicure, invaluable for fruit garden. A bargain. By carcass of William Wilkinson, auditor and accountant, lately deceased, three pounds thirteen and six. With thanks.

25 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2059

I daresay the soil would be quite fat with corpsemanure, bones, flesh, nails. Charnelhouses. Dreadful. Turning green and pink decomposing. Rot quick in damp earth. The lean old ones tougher. Then a kind of a tal- lowy kind of a cheesy. Then begin to get black, black treacle oozing out of them. Then dried up. Deathmoths. Of course the cells or whatever they are go on living. Changing about. Live for ever practically. Nothing to feed on feed on themselves.

26 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2060

But they must breed a devil of a lot of maggots. Soil must be simply swirling with them. Your head it simply swurls. Those pretty little sea- side gurls.

27 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2061

He looks cheerful enough over it. Gives him a sense of power seeing all the others go under first.

28 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2062

Wonder how he looks at life. Cracking his jokes too : warms the cockles of his heart.

29 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2063

The one about the bulletin. Spurgeon went to heaven 4 a.m. this morning. 11 p.m. (closing time). Not arrived yet. Peter.

30 septembre 2017

#Ulysse 2064

The dead themselves the men anyhow would like to hear an odd joke or the women to know what’s in fashion.

1er octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2065

A juicy pear or ladies’ punch, hot, strong and sweet. Keep out the damp.

2 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2066

You must laugh sometimes so better do it that way.

3 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2067

Gravediggers in Hamlet. Shows the profound knowledge of the human heart.

4 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2068

Daren’t joke about the dead for two years at least. De mortuis nil nisi prius. Go out of mourning first. Hard to imagine his funeral. Seems a sort of a joke.

5 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2069

Read your own obituary notice they say you live longer. Gives you second wind. New lease of life.

6 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2070

—How many have-you for tomorrow ? the caretaker asked.

7 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2071

—Two, Corny Kelleher said. Half ten and eleven.

8 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2072

The caretaker put the papers in his pocket.

9 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2073

The barrow had ceased to trundle.

10 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2074

The mourners split and moved to each side of the hole, stepping with care round the graves.

11 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2075

The gravediggers bore the coffin and set its nose on the brink, looping the bands round it.

12 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2076

Burying him. We come to bury Caesar. His ides of March or June. He doesn’t know who is here nor care.

13 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2077

Now who is that lankylooking galoot over there in the macintosh ? Now who is he I’d like to know ? Now I’d give a trifle to know who he is. Always someone turns up you never dreamt of.

14 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2078

A fellow could live on his lonesome all his life. Yes, he could.

15 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2079

Still he’d have to get someone to sod him after he died though he could dig his own grave. We all do.

16 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2080

Only man buries. No, ants too. First thing strikes anybody. Bury the dead.

17 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2081

Say Robinson Crusoe was true to life. Well then Friday buried him. Every Friday buries a Thursday if you come to look at it.
O, poor Robinson Crusoe !
How could you possibly do so ?

18 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2082

Poor Dignam ! His last lie on the earth in his box.

19 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2083

When you think of them all it does seem a waste of wood. All gnawed through.

20 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2084

They could invent a handsome bier with a kind of panel sliding, let it down that way.

21 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2085

Ay but they might object to be buried out of another fellow’s. They’re so particular.

22 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2086

Lay me in my native earth. Bit of clay from the holy land.

23 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2087

Only a mother and deadborn child ever buried in the one coffin. I see what it means. I see. To protect him as long as possible even in the earth.

24 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2088

The Irishman’s house is his coffin.

25 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2089

Embalming in catacombs, mummies the same idea.

26 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2090

Mr Bloom stood far back, his hat in his hand, counting the bared heads. Twelve. I’m thirteen. No. The chap in the macintosh is thirteen. Death’s number. Where the deuce did he pop out of ? He wasn’t in the chapel, that I’ll swear. Silly superstition that about thirteen.

27 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2091

Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert has in that suit. Tinge of purple. I had one like that when we lived in Lombard street west. Dressy fellow he was once. Used to change three suits in the day.

28 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2092

Must get that grey suit of mine turned by Mesias. Hello. It’s dyed.

29 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2093

His wife I forgot he’s not married or his landlady ought to have picked out those threads for him.

30 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2094

The coffin dived out of sight, eased down by the men straddled on the gravetrestles. They struggled up and out : and all uncovered. Twenty.

31 octobre 2017

#Ulysse 2095


1er novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2096

If we were all suddenly somebody else.

2 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2097

Far away a donkey brayed. Rain. No such ass. Never see a dead one, they say. Shame of death. They hide. Also poor papa went away.

3 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2098

Gentle sweet air blew round the bared heads in a whisper. Whisper.

4 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2099

The boy by the gravehead held his wreath with both hands staring quietly in the black open space.

5 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2100

Mr Bloom moved behind the portly kindly caretaker. Wellcut frockcoat.

6 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2101

Weighing them up perhaps to see which will go next.

7 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2102

Well, it is a long rest. Feel no more. It’s the moment you feel.

8 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2103

Must be damned unpleasant. Can’t believe it at first.

9 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2104

Mistake must be : someone else. Try the house opposite.

10 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2105

Wait, I wanted to. I haven’t yet. Then darkened deathchamber.

11 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2106

Light they want.

12 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2107

Whispering around you. Would you like to see a priest ? Then rambling and wandering.

13 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2108

Delirium all you hid all your life. The death struggle

14 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2109

His sleep is not natural. Press his lower eyelid.

15 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2110

Watching is his nose pointed is his jaw sinking are the soles of his feet yellow. Pull the pillow away and finish it off on the floor since he’s doomed.

16 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2111

Devil in that picture of sinner’s death showing him a woman. Dying to embrace her in his shirt.

17 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2112

Last act of Lucia. Shall i nevermore behold thee ?

18 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2113

Bam ! He expires. Gone at last.

19 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2114

People talk about you a bit : forget you. Don’t forget to pray for him. Remember him in your prayers.

20 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2115

Even Parnell. Ivy day dying out.

21 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2116

Then they follow : dropping into a hole, one after the other.

22 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2117

We are praying now for the repose of his soul. Hoping you’re well and not in hell. Nice change of air. Out of the fryingpan of life into the fire of purgatory.

23 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2118

Does he ever think of the hole waiting for himself ? They say you do when you shiver in the sun. Someone walking over it. Callboy’s warning. Near you.

24 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2119

Mine over there towards Finglas, the plot I bought. Mamma, poor mamma, and little Rudy.

25 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2120

The gravediggers took up their spades and flung heavy clods of clay in on the coffin.

26 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2121

Mr Bloom turned away his face.

27 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2122

And if he was alive all the time ? Whew ! By jingo, that would be awful !

28 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2123

No, no : he is dead, of course. Of course he is dead. Monday he died.

29 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2124

They ought to have some law to pierce the heart and make sure or an electric clock or a telephone in the coffin and some kind of a canvas airhole. Flag of distress.

30 novembre 2017

#Ulysse 2125

Three days. Rather long to keep them in summer. Just as well to get shut of them as soon as you are sure there’s no.

1er décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2126

The clay fell softer. Begin to be forgotten. Out of sight, out of mind.

2 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2127

The caretaker moved away a few paces and put on his hat. Had enough of it.

3 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2128

The mourners took heart of grace, one by one, covering themselves without show.

4 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2129

Mr Bloom put on his hat and saw the portly figure make its way deftly through the maze of graves. Quietly, sure of his ground, he traversed the dismal fields.

5 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2130

Hynes jotting down something in his notebook. Ah, the names. But he knows them all. No : coming to me.

6 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2131

—I am just taking the names, Hynes said below his breath. What is your christian name ? I’m not sure.

7 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2132

—L, Mr Bloom said. Leopold. And you might put down M’Coy’s name too. He asked me to.

8 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2133

—Charley, Hynes said writing. I know. He was on the Freeman once.

9 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2134

So he was before he got the job in the morgue under Louis Byrne. Good idea a postmortem for doctors. Find out what they imagine they know.

10 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2135

He died of a Tuesday.

11 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2136

Got the run. Levanted with the cash of a few ads. Charley, you’re my darling. That was why he asked me to. O well, does no harm. I saw to that, M’Coy. Thanks, old chap : much obliged. Leave him under an obligation : costs nothing.

12 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2137

—And tell us, Hynes said, do you know that fellow in the, fellow was over there in the...

13 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2138

He looked around.

14 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2139

—Macintosh. Yes, I saw him, Mr Bloom said. Where is he now ?

15 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2140

—M’Intosh, Hynes said scribbling. I don’t know who he is. Is that his name ?

16 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2141

He moved away, looking about him.

17 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2142

—No, Mr Bloom began, turning and stopping. I say, Hynes !

18 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2143

Didn’t hear. What ? Where has he disappeared to ? Not a sign. Well of all the. Has anybody here seen ? Kay ee double ell. Become invisible. Good Lord, what became of him ?

19 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2144

A seventh gravedigger came beside Mr Bloom to take up an idle spade.
— O, excuse me !

20 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2145

He stepped aside nimbly.

21 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2146

Clay, brown, damp, began to be seen in the hole. It rose. Nearly over.

22 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2147

A mound of damp clods rose more, rose, and the gravediggers rested their spades.

23 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2148

All uncovered again for a few instants.

24 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2149

The boy propped his wreath against a corner : the brother-in-law his on a lump.

25 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2150

The gravediggers put on their caps and carried their earthy spades towards the barrow. Then knocked the blades lightly on the turf : clean.

26 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2151

One bent to pluck from the haft a long tuft of grass.

27 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2152

One, leaving his mates, walked slowly on with shouldered weapon, its blade blueglancing.

28 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2153

Silently at the gravehead another coiled the coffinband. His navelcord.

29 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2154

The brother-in-law, turning away, placed something in his free hand. Thanks in silence. Sorry, sir : trouble. Headshake. I know that. For yourselves just.

30 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2155

The mourners moved away slowly without aim, by devious paths, staying at whiles to read a name on a tomb.

31 décembre 2017

#Ulysse 2156

—Let us go round by the chief’s grave, Hynes said. We have time.

1er janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2157

—Let us, Mr Power said.

2 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2158

They turned to the right, following their slow thoughts.

3 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2159

With awe Mr Power’s blank voice spoke :
— Some say he is not in that grave at all. That the coffin was filled with stones. That one day he will come again.

4 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2160

Hynes shook his head.
— Parnell will never come again, he said. He’s there, all that was mortal of him. Peace to his ashes.

5 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2161

Mr Bloom walked unheeded along his grove by saddened angels, crosses, broken pillars, family vaults, stone hopes praying with upcast eyes, old Ireland’s hearts and hands.

6 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2162

More sensible to spend the money on some charity for the living. Pray for the repose of the soul of. Does anybody really ? Plant him and have done with him. Like down a coalshoot. Then lump them together to save time. All souls’ day.

7 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2163

Twenty- seventh I’ll be at his grave.

8 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2164

Ten shillings for the gardener. He keeps it free of weeds. Old man himself. Bent down double with his shears clipping. Near death’s door.

9 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2165

Who passed away. Who departed this life. As if they did it of their own accord. Got the shove, all of them. Who kicked the bucket.

10 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2166

More interesting if they told you what they were. So and So, wheelwright. I travelled for cork lino. I paid five shillings in the pound. Or a woman’s with her saucepan. I cooked good Irish stew.

11 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2167

Eulogy in a country churchyard it ought to be that poem of whose is it Wordsworth or Thomas Campbell.

12 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2168

Entered into rest the protestants put it.

13 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2169

Old Dr Murren’s. The great physician called him home.

14 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2170

Well it’s God’s acre for them. Nice country residence. Newly plastered and painted. Ideal spot to have a quiet smoke and read the Church Times.

15 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2171

Marriage ads they never try to beautify.

16 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2172

Rusty wreaths hung on knobs, garlands of bronzefoil. Better value that for the money.

17 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2173

Still, the flowers are more poetical. The other gets rather tiresome, never withering. Expresses nothing. Immortelles.

18 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2174

A bird sat tamely perched on a poplar branch. Like stuffed. Like the wedding present alderman Hooper gave us.

19 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2175

Hoo ! Not a budge out of him. Knows there are no catapults to let fly at him.

20 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2176

Dead animal even sadder. Silly-Milly burying the little dead bird in the kitchen matchbox, a daisychain and bits of broken chainies on the grave.

21 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2177

The Sacred Heart that is : showing it. Heart on his sleeve.

22 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2178

Ought to be sideways and red it should be painted like a real heart.

23 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2179

Ireland was dedicated to it or whatever that. Seems anything but pleased.

24 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2180

Why this infliction ?

25 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2181

Would birds come then and peck like the boy with the basket of fruit but he said no because they ought to have been afraid of the boy. Apollo that was.

26 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2182

How many ! All these here once walked round Dublin. Faithful departed. As you are now so once were we.

27 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2183

Besides how could you remember everybody ? Eyes, walk, voice.

28 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2184

Well, the voice, yes : gramophone. Have a gramophone in every grave or keep it in the house.

29 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2185

After dinner on a Sunday. Put on poor old greatgrand-father. Kraahraark ! Hellohellohello amawfullyglad kraark awfullygla-daseeagain hellohello amawf krpthsth.

30 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2186

Remind you of the voice like the photograph reminds you of the face. Otherwise you couldn’t remember the face after fifteen years, say.

31 janvier 2018

#Ulysse 2187

For instance who ? For instance some fellow that died when I was in Wisdom Hely’s.

1er février 2018

#Ulysse 2188

Rtststr ! A rattle of pebbles. Wait. Stop !

2 février 2018

#Ulysse 2189

He looked down intently into a stone crypt. Some animal. Wait. There he goes.

3 février 2018

#Ulysse 2190

An obese grey rat toddled along the side of the crypt, moving the pebbles.

4 février 2018

#Ulysse 2191

An old stager : greatgrandfather : he knows the ropes.

5 février 2018

#Ulysse 2192

The grey alive crushed itself in under the plinth, wriggled itself in under it. Good hidingplace for treasure.

6 février 2018

#Ulysse 2193

Who lives there ? Are laid the remains of Robert Emery. Robert Emmet was buried here by torchlight, wasn’t he ? Making his rounds.

7 février 2018

#Ulysse 2194

Tail gone now.

8 février 2018

#Ulysse 2195

One of those chaps would make short work of a fellow. Pick the bones clean no matter who it was. Ordinary meat for them.

9 février 2018

#Ulysse 2196

A corpse is meat gone bad. Well and what’s cheese ? Corpse of milk.

10 février 2018

#Ulysse 2197

I read in that Voyages in China that the Chinese say a white man smells like a corpse.

11 février 2018

#Ulysse 2198

Cremation better. Priests dead against it. Devilling for the other firm. Wholesale burners and Dutch oven dealers. Time of the plague. Quicklime feverpits to eat them. Lethal chamber. Ashes to ashes.

12 février 2018

#Ulysse 2199

Or bury at sea. Where is that Parsee tower of silence ? Eaten by birds. Earth, fire, water. Drowning they say is the pleasantest. See your whole life in a flash. But being brought back to life no.

13 février 2018

#Ulysse 2200

Can’t bury in the air however. Out of a flying machine.

14 février 2018

#Ulysse 2201

Wonder does the news go about whenever a fresh one is let down. Underground communication. We learned that from them. Wouldn’t be surprised.

15 février 2018

#Ulysse 2202

Regular square feed for them. Flies come before he’s well dead. Got wind of Dignam. They wouldn’t care about the smell of it. Saltwhite crumbling mush of corpse : smell, taste like raw white turnips.

16 février 2018

#Ulysse 2203

The gates glimmered in front : still open.

17 février 2018

#Ulysse 2204

Back to the world again.

18 février 2018

#Ulysse 2205

Enough of this place. Brings you a bit nearer every time.

19 février 2018

#Ulysse 2206

Last time I was here was Mrs Sinico’s funeral.

20 février 2018

#Ulysse 2207

Poor papa too.

21 février 2018

#Ulysse 2208

The love that kills.

22 février 2018

#Ulysse 2209

And even scraping up the earth at night with a lantern like that case I read of to get at fresh buried females or even putrefied with running gravesores.

23 février 2018

#Ulysse 2210

Give you the creeps after a bit.

24 février 2018

#Ulysse 2211

I will appear to you after death.

25 février 2018

#Ulysse 2212

You will see my ghost after death.

26 février 2018

#Ulysse 2213

My ghost will haunt you after death.

27 février 2018

#Ulysse 2214

There is another world after death named hell.

28 février 2018

#Ulysse 2215

I do not like that other world she wrote. No more do I.

1er mars 2018

#Ulysse 2216

Plenty to see and hear and feel yet. Feel live warm beings near you. Let them sleep in their maggoty beds. They are not going to get me this innings. Warm beds : warm fullblooded life.

2 mars 2018

#Ulysse 2217

Martin Cunningham emerged from a sidepath, talking gravely.

3 mars 2018

#Ulysse 2218

Solicitor, I think. I know his face. Menton, John Henry, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits.

4 mars 2018

#Ulysse 2219

Dignam used to be in his office. Mat Dillon’s long ago.

5 mars 2018

#Ulysse 2220

Jolly Mat. Convivial evenings. Cold fowl, cigars, the Tantalus glasses. Heart of gold really.

6 mars 2018

#Ulysse 2221

Yes, Menton. Got his rag out that evening on the bowlinggreen because I sailed inside him.

7 mars 2018

#Ulysse 2222

Pure fluke of mine : the bias.

8 mars 2018

#Ulysse 2223

Why he took such a rooted dislike to me. Hate at first sight.

9 mars 2018

#Ulysse 2224