Dogsbody (6 of 783)
I had a dream last night that I was actually in the novel, watching Buck shave. It all happened in slow motion and the colors were very bright as in a video game. This is the first time I have ever dreamed about being in a book. Maybe there is something magical about Ulysses afterall.
That being said, I realize that a page-by-page blog about a novel, if not the world's most trvial pursuit, is definitely in the Top 10. Blogging is the not the world's weightest endeavor to begin with, and lit crit even in its most serious form is little more then mental masturbation -- and this is far from serious lit crit. The combination of the two cannot have heft without invoking alchemy or some other magick [sic].
So, it is more than fair to ask, why? Why spend the time and further bloat the Internet with something no one is ever going to read? Why, why, why?
Because I need a little mental masturbation. Masturbation, of any variety is not inherently evil (those who quote the story of Onan in response can sod themselves). It is a form of exercise and both the mind and body need exercise on a daily basis. This is my little work out. If all goes well it is simply preparation for crafting my own hefty tome about an obscure writer who found fame and fortune by blogging about Ulysses, and I too will join the ranks of DWM authors and be cursed by college students for decades hence.
And I perform this act on the Internet, because every act in 2006 is performed on the Internet. It also somehow feels slightly subversive to discuss Ulysses in any public forum.
Back to our daily jolt of Joyce's masturbatory? act...
If it isn't clear after reading this page that Kinch is broke, then it's time to put down the book and find a "Dick and Jane" primer. Kinch is wearing hand-me-downs Buck lifted from a body. Buck is offering him more, while kidding Kinch about his general appearance and his refusal to wear grey even though he "killed" his mother, because "Ettiquette is ettiquette".
Buck holds up his shaving mirror to Kinch's face to get him to acknowledge his appearance. Kinch is wallowing and wonders who chose this face for him. Buck says he swiped the mirror from his cleaning woman and Kinch declares it "a symbol of Irish Art. The cracked lookingglass of the servant."
A great vocabulary expanding page: dogsbody, skivvy, breeks, and bowsy.
I am having severe doubts that Kinch is a priest, unless priests were in the habit of swiping clothes from dead bodies or mirrors from servants, or being tempted by cleaning women. Perhaps he had been in seminary or was just dragged to mass on a daily basis by a devout grandmother.
Joyce's swipe at Irish art sounds like current complaints about what constitutes art. Was he ahead of his time, or are these complaints timeless? Is Joyce making fun of his own art? Find out tommorow (or sometime in the next two years) on "As Ulysses Turns".
That being said, I realize that a page-by-page blog about a novel, if not the world's most trvial pursuit, is definitely in the Top 10. Blogging is the not the world's weightest endeavor to begin with, and lit crit even in its most serious form is little more then mental masturbation -- and this is far from serious lit crit. The combination of the two cannot have heft without invoking alchemy or some other magick [sic].
So, it is more than fair to ask, why? Why spend the time and further bloat the Internet with something no one is ever going to read? Why, why, why?
Because I need a little mental masturbation. Masturbation, of any variety is not inherently evil (those who quote the story of Onan in response can sod themselves). It is a form of exercise and both the mind and body need exercise on a daily basis. This is my little work out. If all goes well it is simply preparation for crafting my own hefty tome about an obscure writer who found fame and fortune by blogging about Ulysses, and I too will join the ranks of DWM authors and be cursed by college students for decades hence.
And I perform this act on the Internet, because every act in 2006 is performed on the Internet. It also somehow feels slightly subversive to discuss Ulysses in any public forum.
Back to our daily jolt of Joyce's masturbatory? act...
If it isn't clear after reading this page that Kinch is broke, then it's time to put down the book and find a "Dick and Jane" primer. Kinch is wearing hand-me-downs Buck lifted from a body. Buck is offering him more, while kidding Kinch about his general appearance and his refusal to wear grey even though he "killed" his mother, because "Ettiquette is ettiquette".
Buck holds up his shaving mirror to Kinch's face to get him to acknowledge his appearance. Kinch is wallowing and wonders who chose this face for him. Buck says he swiped the mirror from his cleaning woman and Kinch declares it "a symbol of Irish Art. The cracked lookingglass of the servant."
A great vocabulary expanding page: dogsbody, skivvy, breeks, and bowsy.
I am having severe doubts that Kinch is a priest, unless priests were in the habit of swiping clothes from dead bodies or mirrors from servants, or being tempted by cleaning women. Perhaps he had been in seminary or was just dragged to mass on a daily basis by a devout grandmother.
Joyce's swipe at Irish art sounds like current complaints about what constitutes art. Was he ahead of his time, or are these complaints timeless? Is Joyce making fun of his own art? Find out tommorow (or sometime in the next two years) on "As Ulysses Turns".
posted by DBugger32 | 9:08 PM
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