There once was an expatriate, James Joyce
Who wrote prose because it suited his voice.
His thought sense completely entangled
The reader, these words she bing-bangled
And now Guinness is her drink of first choice.
Yay!!! Isn't it great? !
Also, if you're looking for Ulysses online, there's:
http://www.doc.ic.ac.uk/~rac101/concord/texts/ulysses/
And, if you want a silly short film about Joyce and Beckett, go to:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p856CfM64w8
It's funny. I question whether Joyce would act like that, though :).
(both of these sources were passed to me by another listener- thank you!)
Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!
"The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails."
There once was an artist called Stephen
With Homer he tried to get even
So he and Bloom walk
Around Dublin and talk
About all the things they believe in
I'm writing a series of LImericks, one for each episode. I'm about
half way through so far. I'll post more when I get a few extra
minutes.
(Actually, I'm writing a series of series of Limericks, but some of
the other series are pretty obtuse....)
The word will set you free!
"Telemachus"
The story begins in a tower
Where 8 o'clock is the hour
Young Buck and Sir Haines
Make light of his pains
But wait till he meets Mr. Flower
"Nestor"
At 10 o'clock school is in session
It starts with a history lesson
To the past Stephen reaches
Half-heartedly teaches
For his own past he must make confession
- The Granola Poet
Is there a way to listen to your podcast without an iPod? Can you send
me a link?
Au revoir,
GP
The Granola Poet Weaving whimsical lyrics against the grain since 1981
On May 8, 2007, at 12:43 PM, paigerella wrote:
"Paigerella"
There's a scholar who lives by the bay
With a passion for drama I'd say
But the 16th of June
May drive her to ruin
For she's madly obsessed by that day
Go Paigerella!
-GP
"Calypso"
Calypso is leading a life of seduction
As Leopold seldom attempts reproduction
Their home goes to Blazes
While Bloom simply gazes
At maidens who gaily portend his destruction
- Granola Poet