ONE TWO THREE: A Bloomsday Celebration
A text derived from the first three episodes of James Joyce’s Ulysses (The Telemachiad), which precede the appearance of Leopold Bloom and focus on Stephen Dedalus (Kinch) and which I like to read as a mini-sequel to The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.
1. Telemachus
-Kinch. Kinch, wake up!
Will he come? The jejune jesuit! Chrysostomos. One moment. Slow music, please.
-Yes, my love?
EPI OINOPA PONTON. THALATTA! THALATTA!
-The bard’s noserag! The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea.
-Our mighty mother!
No, mother! Ghoul! Chewer of corpses!
-Yes. Come and look. I shall die! Ah, poor dogsbody!
Where? Is it Haynes? A ponderous Saxon. A woful lunatic! Scutter!
-A miracle! Haines, come in. Come up, Kinch!
Why? Why? Of what then? Four omnipotent sovereigns. What? Absurd! On me alone.
-Do you now? Yes? Well? Italian?
Charming! Quite charming! Wonderful entirely.
-The milk, sir! Good morning, sir.
Old shrunken paps. A servant too. Bread, butter, honey. Where’s the sugar?
-How much, sir?
Speaking to me. Agenbite of inwit. What? Conscience. Contradiction. Mercurial Malachi.
-Still there? Come out, Kinch. Back to barracks!
Here I am. Down in Westmeath. With the Bannons.
-Yes. I’m the UBERMENSCH.
-Down, sir! Your reasons, pray?
Stephen turned away. Throw it there. Thus spake Zarathustra.
Silence, all. Parried again. Cranly’s arm. His arm. I forget. I’m inconsequent. Where now?
-Kinch ahoy! How much? Four quid? Sit down. Time enough. The school kip? Lend us one.
From whom? He himself? Hear, hear! Prolonged applause.
-Snapshot, eh? Brief exposure. Half twelve.
LILIATA RUTILANTIUM. TURMA CIRCUMDET. GOODBYE, NOW, GOODBYE!
-Seriously, Dedalus. I’m stony. Cough it up.
Usurper.
2. Nestor
For Haines’s chapbook. Vico Road, Dalkey.
-Tarentum, sir. A riddle, sir? Ask me, sir.
They lend ear. Wait.
-Sargent!
Stephen stood up. Well?
-Yes, sir. Thanks, Sargent answered.
Futility.
-I know, sir. We didn’t hear. What is that? Ay.
-Hockey!
-Very good. Where? You, Armstrong.
Go on, Talbot. Tranquil brightness.
-Pyrrhus, sir? Pyrrhus, a pier.
All laughed. Kingstown pier, sir. Yes.
-How, sir? What then?
A ghoststory.
-Iago, Stephen murmured.
-What, sir?
-What, sir? Half day, sir.
-Yes, sir. The sea’s ruler.
…Day!…Day! Thursday. Can you? Cassandra. Serum and virus. Veterinary surgeons. Our cattle trade.
-Again, sir.
-No, sir. O, do, sir.
-Yes, sir.
-Yes, sir.
-Yes, sir.
Ay! Three times now. Well. Hooray! Whrrwhee!
-Ba! I OWE NOTHING.
See. Sixpences, halfcrowns. And here crowns. Answer something.
-Sit down. Just a moment.
Allimportant question. That is God. What?
-Who knows? Who has not?
IRISH HOMESTEAD. THE EVENING TELEGRAPH …
Running after me. Gabble of geese. No. What are they?
-Just one moment. Mr. Dedalus! Thank you.
-Alas, Stephen said. That’s why.
3. Proteus
Kinch here. Go easy. How? Diaphane, adiaphane. Why in?
No. Jesus! I will. One moment. Open your eyes. See now.
And after? Yes, I must. His pace slackened. Here. Open your eyes. No. Jesus!
Yes, sir. No, sir.
-It’s Stephen, sir.
-Let him in. Let Stephen in.
Cleanchested.
-Morrow, nephew.
Where is she? Papa’s little bedpal. Lump of love.
-Bathing Crissie, sir.
-No, uncle Richie…
Call me Richie. Whusky! For whom? Uncle Richie, really…
Yes, sir? It lowers. Houyhnhnm, horsenostrilled. Paff! Get down, baldpoll! Dringding! Isle of saints. O SI, CERTO! NAKED WOMEN!
What about what? I was young.
Hray! O, yes, W. Human shells.He halted.
-IL CROIT? MON PERE, OUI. SCHLUSS.
He laps. Paysayenn.
-LUI, C’EST MOI. Proudly walking. Forget: a dispossessed.
Hunger toothache. Look clock. Must get. FERME. Hired dog! Not hurt?
Shake hands. Shake a shake.
EUGE! COMMENT? EUGE!
Noon slumbers. IL EST IRLANDAIS. HOLLANDAIS? NON FROMAGE. Postprandial.
Well: SLAINTE!
Licentious men. Most licentious custom. Lascivious people. Did, faith. Spurned lover. I was, faith. Loveless, landless, wifeless. Spurned and underspairing.
Goes like this. Turn back. Try it. You have some. Sand and stones. Sir Lout’s toys.
Feefawfum. All kings’ sons. Respect his liberty. House of…
Sit tight. Can’t see! Who’s behind me. Wait. Open hallway. Street of harlots.
Remember. Haroun al Raschid. Smiled: creamfruit smell. Red carpet spread.
In. Come.
Passing now. My tablets. Hold hard. Touch me. Soft eyes. Sad too. Touch, touch me.
And the blame?
As I am. As I am. Found drowned. Hook it quick. Pull. We have him. Easy now.
Come. I thirst.
Clouding over. No. Where?
To evening lands. GIA. Why, I wonder. Feel. Shells. That one. This.
My handkerchief. He threw it. I remember.
No, I didn’t. Better buy one.
No. Jesus! BASTA! Hello! Gaze.
Womb of sin. Here. No? Sally? Sure? ALL’ERTA! Listen. I hear. Dringdring! Dringadring! SCHLUSS. Aha. FERME. Sir. Who?
The two maries. Peekaboo. I see you. No, the dog. Who?
Cocklepickers.
-Tatters! Here. No. Paper. Flutier.
Who’s behind me? Out quickly, quickly!
Ah, poor dogsbody! Doesn’t see me.
I am not. Glue ‘em well. Oomb, allwombing tomb. Old Deasy’s letter. Here. Ah, see now. She, she, she. What she?
Pain is far. Alo!
BONJOUR.
I shall wait. Behind.
Check out William’s new book, Questionstruck.
