Well, I'm a few hours late and a couple of dollars short on this one, but I searched my conscience and decided that Bloomsday could not go unmarked at this blog. Even if no one will read it 'til the day itself is long past (as of now, it hasn't been June 16th for several hours in Dublin, and the clock has clicked over in New York as well).
For those who have not endured my prattling on the subject, June 16th 1904 is the day on which the action of James Joyce's Ulysses takes place. Joyce is said to have chosen that date to commemorate the day he first "stepped out" with his wife, Nora Barnacle (just what made this date so special... that would be a handjob.).
Pretty hot, right?
Anyway, the traditional thing in Dublin on Bloomsday is to follow Leopold Bloom's steps throughout the city. All of my pictures of Bloom's haunts are not of the digital variety, so I'll post a little quote instead (here's hoping I don't get sued). It should be noted at this juncture, that while I do so love Leopold Bloom, Stephen Dedalus is really my area of expertise, so I'm going to go with an old chesnut here, rather than hunting around in relatively uncharted pages.
Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods' roes. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine.
The man himself, ladies and gents. Our Odysseus of the mundane. I'm sure you can see why his likeness adorns my light switchplate? (The illustration of Bloom above is by Richard Hamilton, who did a series for a version of the novel... there's lots more at the Guardian. Check 'em out.)
...and yes I said yes I will Yes.
Happy Bloomsday.
2 comments:
Ok, I'll bite and reveal my ignorance: a hand job? Really?
Yep. Really.
I know, I was also alarmed to find that they had handjobs back in 1904.
Post a Comment