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a revolt, in a sense, against actuality.

I just think that it's brilliant that I should turn out to be Ulysses.

I have a James Joyce thing... I love him in a very odd & twisted way. 'course I've never actually picked up Ulysses (i think i was always just a wee bit intimidated), but I do adore "dubliners" & "portrait of the artist" & my favorite card of all time was based on a cartoon that appeared some years ago in the New Yorker. It was entitled "James Joyce's Refrigerator," and it showed a note stuck with a magnet to the great writer's refrigerator door. The note said, "To Do: 1)Call bank 2)Dry cleaner 3)Forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race 4)Call Mom."

How fucking brilliant is that? When i first saw it, I died laughing, bought the card & still have it somewhere with everything else I had on my walls in college.

Anyhow, I'm thinking maybe it's about time to give Ulysses another try :) Besides - haven't I been saying for months now that my brain is melting & leaking out my ears? I'm sure this will be just the kind of ass-kicking my brain needs to feel intellectually fit again.

You're Ulysses!

by James Joyce

Most people are convinced that you don't make any sense, but compared
to what else you could say, what you're saying now makes tons of sense. What people do
understand about you is your vulgarity, which has convinced people that you are at once
brilliant and repugnant. Meanwhile you are content to wander around aimlessly, taking in
the sights and sounds of the city. What you see is vast, almost limitless, and brings you
additional fame. When no one is looking, you dream of being a Greek folk hero.

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