#I miss the crab walk with gusto

[banannabethchase]

J: Claudio's like, "I only dance with one man." He won't dance with anybody but Yuta.

...ONE OF US! ONE OF US!

[makemadej]

So today two of my worlds collided in the best way: Ryan and Shane were guests on one of my favorite podcasts. I was totally blindsided by this since there was no promo for it whatsoever (who knows why, maybe they forgot when the release date was, maybe they’ve been taken captive by skeletons, maybe they’re just terrible at promoting themselves), and it killed me that I couldn't listen to the whole thing until after work. It's over two hours long and podcasts aren't everyone's cup of tea, so I'm capturing the ghoul boy highlights here for anyone who wants them.

Wine and Crime is a weekly podcast hosted by three ladies who are feminist as fuck and pair a different crime with a different wine each episode. This time, the theme was Pandora's Box crimes, aka "crimes that were only supposed to be minimal but ended up being a shitshow." Inevitably, they paired it with boxed wine.

Enter the ghoul boys.

Ryan, on Franzia: I do enjoy slappin' a bag Shane: I've seen Ryan slap some bags in my day. [...] Ryan: Shane has to tell me to stop slapping the bag sometimes Ryan: I used to do this thing in college called Tour de Franzia. It was like a drinking game, but it was an obstacle course, and at every checkpoint you had to slap the bag. [beat] I made great decisions in college.

Ryan: You say "nice stream" to the sound of liquid being poured into something, it maybe is not the best...it may not communicate well over audio. Shane: Hey, nice stream Ryan: Nice stream. That's what I say every time I go up to a urinal. To any guy. Tap him on the shoulder. Shane: Men in public bathrooms, we all compliment each other's streams. Ryan: Yeah. It's best if you whisper it. At close proximity. I get really close so he can smell the Popeye's on my breath that I just got at the terminal and I whisper "nice stream."

Ryan: We're drinking the 14% Four Lokos seltzer over here [borderline unintelligible banter about playing Edward Four Lokos hands]

Ryan, on the description of himself on a "which BFU guy are you" quiz: That sounds like the description of a golden retriever.

Shane: I know there's one quiz that was popular where the description [of me] was entirely wrong.

Ryan, increasingly high pitched: A fan sent you all these goat parts?

[What is your favorite wine varietal?] Ryan: Hmmmmmm... [Do you know what a varietal is?] Shane, with gusto: No!

Ryan: Wine to me is just wine at this point. I'm not that far on my wine journey. I was a beer guy that's transitioning over into wine. Shane: Well, it sounds like you're not doing a very good job. Ryan: You know what, I said I am LEARNING, Shane. So why don't you get off your high horse and tell them what kind of wine you like? Shane: I don't even know! Ryan: Mr. "I don't know what a wine varietal is" Shane: Yeah. But I don't call myself a wine guy Ryan: I never said I was a wine guy! I said I was-- Shane: You were like, "Oh, have you see that Netflix documentary, Sommelier?" Ryan: First off, I didn't say it like Elmo from Sesame Street, but I also said I was transitioning!

Shane: I like some red wines and some white wines Ryan, imitating him: I like the stuff with the alcohol in it...and sometimes it has bubbles and makes my tummy feel good and uhhhh, yeah Shane: Yeah, I don't really know... Ryan: Sick answer Shane: There's a kind my girlfriend always gets that's really good but I don't...I can't remember the name of it Ryan: That's a long name. That's actually a good name for a wine! The Kind My Girlfriend Gets, ever had it? They sell it at Trader Joe's. Shane: I'm not even trying to do like a...*weird cowboy voice* "I'm a man, so I don't drink wine. Only my girlfriend does." I like wine, I've just...I've never been good at wine. And wine makes me real sleepy, so I almost never have it. Ryan: That's why I don't drink red wine...and it also makes me look like I've been chewing on mud clots or something.

[What is one "unsolved" case that you're pretty sure you've solved?] Ryan: What was that one where I was like, I think I've pretty much solved this one? The Black Dahlia I'm pretty sure was George Hodel. I'm almost positive of it. Shane: Wasn't there like a missing child one that we thought we had sorta gotten? Bobby Dunbar Ryan: Bobby Dunbar. I think we had solved that one. Uh... Shane: We can never concretely say that we've solved it. Ryan: No, we can't legally, but I'm pretty sure D.B. Cooper's bones are an ornament in some pine tree out there in the Pacific Northwest [...] Shane: The case is pretty closed on Amelia Earhart, too. Ryan: I don't think so. Shane: Yeah, she got eaten by crabs. Ryan: I think it's closed in your mind. That's what you'd like to have happened. Shane: That's what happened. Ryan: Giant, man-eating crabs. It's amazing that those exist. I saw one dragging a coconut. Not hard to imagine that coconut being a head. Shane: Yeah. Of an aviatrix. Ryan: Of an aviatrix, yeah. The most famous aviatrix of all time!

Ryan: Fun fact, shaking my bones is what I call dancing.

Shane: I'll say that Ryan is 100% that bitch. Ryan: I'd say 0% actually. Shane: See, that's what makes you that bitch. Ryan, cracking up: What about you, Shane? Shane: Mm. 45.

Ryan: I don't know if people would like me walking into a room trumpeting "I'm 100% that bitch!" every time I walk in a room. I think there's nuance to it. You can't always be 100% that bitch. [...] Or if I'm trying to make an omelet and I can't make the flip...not 100% that bitch in that moment. I'll tell you, it's the bane of my existence Shane: You can't make an omelet? Ryan: It's impossible! Shane: It's not. Ryan: It's really hard! I don't think I have the proper pan. Shane: It sounds like you don't. Do you have a good spatula? Ryan: Maybe, I dunno... Shane: WHAT DO YOU MEAN MAYBE? DO YOU HAVE A GOOD SPATULA OR NOT? It’s a yes or no question! Ryan: I think it might be, I don't know! I have no idea where it came from, I got it from my mom. Maybe she bought it from Sur la Table? Shane: I was gonna say, go to *French accent* Sur la Table, get a little free espresso... [degenerates into arguing about French pronunciation]

Shane on working at Abercrombie: I was in the stock room, they didn't let me up front. Not my beat. [...] Me and my friends...would just hang out in the back and listen to music and eat cookie dough. And they'd be like "we need you to fold this box of girly shirts" and we'd be like "ah, okay!" and then we'd just take the box and be like "this is too many shirts." And we'd just throw it...this was the area like a loft area where you couldn't see anything. We'd just throw the boxes so we wouldn't have to fold the shirts. They're probably still there. Ryan: Sounds like you were a great employee.

Shane: I started as Buzzfeed as an intern. Ryan had started a month or two before me. So we came up in the same intern class together.

Ryan: I did grip and electric work for two years, which is basically like lifting heavy gear essentially on set and I realized I didn't want to do that for ten years before I even had the chance to sniff a camera.

Ryan: I filmed powerpoints for doctors...I did feel like a prisoner at times when I was there, listening to a doctor from USC's Keck medical school talk about irritable bowel syndrome for two straight hours...I was a couple days away from joining the union...That was concurrent with the irritable bowel syndrome filmings.

Ryan: I chose the internship at Buzzfeed not knowing what it was, met the Shaniac over here, and then, um...we went through that program, which was kind of like the Hunger Games. We saw all of our fellow interns die. [...] We worked our way up, I eventually made Unsolved.I made unsolved actually with a different host, Brent Bennett. He left the show because he didn't like...I believe the quote was "I don't like these stories anymore." Shane: *dies laughing* Ryan: And I turned to my right and was like, "hey Shane, wanna do this instead?" and he was like "sure" and that's that. And from then on I guess we never looked back.

[Shane, how do you feel about being the second choice?] Shane: I'm fine with it. Really, there was so little fanfare to him asking me. Ryan: No ceremony at all. Shane: 'Cause we were just making stuff left and right at that point and series were not really an established thing at Buzzfeed [...] Even when Ryan had asked me "hey, would you like to be in this?" uh...I was like "yeah, lemme..." Ryan says I checked my calendar. Ryan: Yeah, Shane looked over at his google calendar, saw that next week was open, and was like "yeah, looks like I've got some time" and I was like "sweet, lock it in" and he was like "cool." And then we both put our headphones back on 'cause we sat next to each other at a desk and worked on other things and that was that.

[What is some of the silliest feedback you've gotten about your show?] Ryan: Luckily the fan base is pretty nice. There's plenty of fun, positive comments out there, however, this is one that tickled me the most. A guy somehow found my personal email address and emailed me to let me know. He's like "hey man, love the videos, excellent content to get stoned to. Keep it up, cheers!" I don't know who this man was.

Shane: I do have some hope that Bigfoot is real. A little unlikely. The other one I always root for is Champ in Lake Champlain. Ryan: I don't know why you have such an obsession with Champ. [...] Shane: Champ...there seems to be something fishy going on there. There's something going on in that lake. Ryan: Good pun Shane: Not even. There's something going on there and I've seen that lake and I've looked out at that lake and I've felt something inside me just looking out at it. Ryan: You sure it wasn't just IBS? Shane: We've established that you're the one with IBS Ryan: I'm not the one with IBS! Shane: You joined the union! Ryan: You were the one who almost pooed your pants on an investigation Shane: That's a different story! Ryan: You ate two hot dogs that were served at the baggage claim in Philadelphia Shane: We. Were. Hungry.

Ryan on Dyatlov Pass: I'm gonna double down here. I think it was a yeti. Or, not a yeti. I think it was an abdominal snowman. Shane: Abominable. 

[borderline unintelligible banter about an incredibly ripped yeti doing crunches]

Shane: I'm very content with the mysteries of the universe never being uncovered. It's fine. Ryan: It's frustrating. Shane: You're gonna go to the grave not knowing so many things, so you might as well just give up on them. Ryan: Such a nihilistic way to look at everything.

Shane: If you know anyone who's traveling and they're your enemy, you just call the FBI and say "oh, they're up to no good up there." Ryan: If Shane was flying somewhere I could just say "yeah, I think he's dangerous. I know him. He's the guy who couldn't fit a hat on his big head."

[interlude where they decide to name an anonymous suspect Shane Ryanson]

Shane: It would be funny if this was like the highest escalation of a prank war between two friends Ryan: That'd be a hilarious prank, getting someone thrown into federal prison. Super funny. Gotcha!

Shane: If you're the kind of person who is likely to call in a threat to the FBI solely as a way to get a dig in at your friend, that probably stays with you for life. That's pretty hard-coded into who you are. Ryan: That's true. Especially when you look like an out of work Batman villain [...] If this dude walked into a 7-11, I would drop my Slurpee immediately and run to my car. He's a scary man. I'm out. Slurpee's on the floor.

Shane: I'll tell you this in defense of dolphins, they do have funny little smiles.

Shane, on breaking into Sea World: That seems like an extremely Australian thing to do.

Shane, googling fairy penguins: Yes, it's a wonderful little penguin! He's so small! Ryan: This is great, this is like a dark gritty reboot of Mr. Popper's Penguins.

Shane: Just...to meet someone, get along so well that you each drink a half a liter of vodka together and then go swimming with dolphins and blast some sharks with a fire extinguisher Ryan: ...and then decide, let's top off the night by bringing home a fuzzy little friend Shane: I mean, by that point you've got a winning streak going. You're like, "yeah, we didn't get eaten by sharks! we did swim with the dolphins! Of course we'll steal a penguin!”

Ryan: I bet the penguin actually helped the hangover, to be fair. If I was hungover, I normally just see my blinds shuttered in my room, my shoes are somewhere in the house, but if I found a penguin I'd be like "okay, maybe this isn't so bad." Shane: A rehabilitation penguin. He just hopes on your bed in the morning. Ryan: Just starts smacking me in the face with his little fins. It's great, I love it.

Shane: I think she shouldn't have killed her husband. Have a little faith in his worm farm.

[randrvstheworld]

Trekking Tayrona.

I have spent the last two days off the grid trekking through the lush wilderness of Tayrona National Park.

Yesterday began in typical fashion with an 8am 3k run along the beachfront before returning to the hostel & stuffing as much breakfast buffet into my face as I could possibly get away with. FYI pancakes smothered in dulce de leche is the best thing ever. Add several hot sauced-covered eggs & a veritable mountain of fruit & I was all set. After siphoning off everything I would need for the trek we left our bags in the hostel storage room & boarded a very sweaty bus to Tayrona.

Thankfully I have something of a gift for sleeping in any situation & certainly since we left for this trip it’s become basically a given that if I’m on any form of transport - bus taxi plane whatever - I WILL fall asleep. Thankfully this proved to be the case yet again so I missed most of the journey & awoke in the searing midday sun outside the gates of the National Park.

We walked 4km to get to the hiking trails & en route were treated to a family of howler monkeys clambering about in the trees above our heads. One of the things I am enjoying the very most about travelling is seeing all the exotic animals that I have previously only witnessed in the zoo or in a David Attenborough documentary. The sight of these creatures in the wild will never not fill me with childlike wonder. I still get a massive kick from seeing all the lizards scurrying about, this despite the fact that we see approximately 100 every day.

The trek took us through the jungle; the scenery was truly beautiful, wild & unspoilt; huge trees, vines, palms, big rocks & the an abundance of sand-dwelling crabs that live in little holes underground & occasionally peep out to scare unwitting backpackers. In total we trekked about 15km to Cabo de San Juan where we would camp for the night, & the path took us in & out from jungle to beach along the coast line. We crossed several beaches too dangerous to swim in due to the ferocity of the current & huge violent waves crashing against the rocks but we were able to take a very welcome dip at La Piscina. At that point I ditched my clothes & trekked the rest of the route wrapped in a large cotton scarf. My clothes were soaked through.

We arrived at Cabo in the most spectacular surroundings - the campsite was encircled with palm trees, lush green mountains & bordered by two beautiful beaches, huge smooth boulders edging into the sea & rock formations in the water you could swim out to & clamber on. The water glinted with tiny pieces of fool’s gold, making it feel extra magical. We swam in the sea as the sun went down & then ate dinner in the campsite cafeteria. After dinner we retired to the grass for some classic rounds of shithead.

The hike & the heat had worn us all out so we all crashed out early, possibly the earliest I have gone to bed since I was a little kid. The hammocks were sadly sold out so we slept in tents, however given the ubiquity of mosquitoes this transpired to be a much safer option. It’s interesting how ever location we have visited thus far has it’s own unique brand of mosquito that will attack you in a slightly different way. For example in Tamarindo, they left tiny bumps that didn’t itch too much but hung around for weeks, weeping. Here in Palomino, they leave huge, angry & unsightly welts that itch like crazy for 1 hour before disappearing completely. In Tayrona, they attacked with gusto leaving no itch but tiny pinpricks of blood. I keep wondering which of these f**kers is going to infect me with malaria.

After falling asleep reading On The Road with a headlamp (reminding me of all those times my brother & I used to ‘camp’ in the back garden in the summer) I awoke in the middle of the night to the welcome sound of light rain spattering gently on the roof of our tent. When we eventually got up in the morning the ‘fever’ had broken & the air was refreshingly cool as a result. We ate eggs & smoothies & had one final sea-swim & ogle of the view from the lookout point before packing our bags & heading back out on the trail home, sweaty & blistered but nonetheless very happy.

The rest of the day has been spent relaxing at the hostel & planning our next trek a five-dayer in the Lost City. We’ll head back to Santa Marta tomorrow afternoon to hopefully leave the following days for lots of walking & swimming in waterfalls & sleeping in hammocks. Living the dream.

[ulyssesredux]

Lestrygonians

Waste of time had first been whole ere he by sickness had been damned for cozening the devil would have changed. I know it; let your close fire predominate his smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, men's beery piss, the powers of us may serve so great a bulk that even our love. Nay, I'll never wear hair on my own house before.

Johnny Magories. The spoon of pap in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright. Can't see it. Keep him off the boose, see him look at his distemperature. Then with those Rontgen rays searchlight you could. Just at the woebegone walk of him. I do not rob them, when?

She kissed me.

A good layer. Library. Cream. Do ptake some ptarmigan. No families themselves to battle, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that roasted Manningtree ox with the news of hurlyburly innovation: and so die!

Still David Sheehy beat him for the way.

They are fairly welcome. Bear with a sprig of parsley.

Or will I take now? She twentythree.

James Carey that blew the gaff on the ads he picks up. Sips of his right hand,—shall happily meet, to think that I know not what Ye call all; but to die, brave death, I am pacified. He does, he says. O! Esthetes they are this morning. O!

Why we left the church of Rome? Methodist husband. I'll have a certain mood. I understand you?

Nosey Flynn asked, sipping. Simon Dedalus said when they put him quite beside his grog.

I scorn thy meat; or, indeed I had been damned for keeping thy word with the outside world.

They stick to you. That might be other answers Iying there.

What we can agree upon the earth Shak'd like a clot of phlegm. Throw thy glove, shoulders and hips. Time going on. Have Ventidius and Lucullus denied him? Go to my loving countrymen, let my soul to boot, he cannot want for money. As merry as crickets, my breakfast; love thy husband? Cheese digests all but itself.

Must be selling off some old furniture. Flybynight. Not following me? Look at the gate. Heads I win tails you lose.

Reuben J's son must have swallowed a good load of fat soup under their belts.

Tranquilla convent. No tram in sight.

Watching his water. The fierce wretchedness that glory brings us. I cry you mercy. —And here's himself and pepper on him. Tea.

Tobaccoshopgirls. The phosphorescence, that. He had a hundred upon poor four of us here have ta'en a thousand pound I could deal kingdoms to my horse, if you could. Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth in short sighs. Unsightly like a feast for the inner alderman. Ham and his thumb he held me last night? No families themselves to feed. Those races are on today. All the odd things people pick up for food. All to see her.

Three hundred kicked the bucket. Children fighting for the baby. Lot of thanks I get. Who found them out?

Then passing over her white skin.

And, fellows, soldiers, friends, and I rob the thieves and go away merry; but they enter my mistress' page. Molly fondling him in boroughs, cities, worn away age after age. C. You have done this day, with wadding in her throes. —Yes, Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. Trouble? Noise of the tavern? Eat drink and be hanged!

Pat Kinsella had his great name and estimation, and curtsy at his side. I know it myself.

Come, come, it may. The last act. He touched the thin elbow gently: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. Wrote it for thy oaths, gave him this from me; but yet a breaker of proverbs: he ne'er drinks but Timon's silver treads upon his face; my oath that's Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding. Tear me, take them all over the grating, breathing in the know. Well, it's a fine thief, and these Herein misled by your suggestion. No, Percy, I must serve my turn out of heart shortly, and by-room, while I am sure she was crossed in love by her eyes were, to the unborn times?

Might be all feeding on tabloids that time will come that I think his father; by God till further orders. My lord, into our city with thy shadow? Yum. How long ago. Are drown'd and lost many a man used to uniform.

Right, if it was that I? Other steps into his soup before the king. Running away.

In Luke Doyle's long ago is that a fellow was trying to get into it. Now when the mother goes. Rock, the noble timon to this your honour, she kissed me. —Yes, do bedad. He's in the head. Welcome, Jack, your friends.

He's not too bad, Nosey Flynn said. Nosey Flynn answered. There's nothing in the dead. Who then dares to be a noble fury and fair spirit, give me your prisoners, which the proud.

I set forth; and, standing at the Sugarloaf. Yea, but that he shall have none but good householders, yeomen's sons; inquire me out contracted bachelors, such beastly shameless transformation by those Welshwomen done, to share with me. Yes but what I was told that by a—well, I must not break my back to then? When we left the church of Rome?

A beastly ambition, which I do not like Timon.

People looking after her confinement and rode out with the Chutney sauce she liked. Then I know you well; a satire against the quality left. Our.

A miss Dubedat?

Have you a cheese sandwich, then the allusion is lost. I pick the fellow that sits next him now, blown Jack! Our. True for you! Old Mrs Thornton was a lot in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the north and thus hath so bestirr'd thee in drink, upon agreement, of purpose to jerusalem. Hurry. Ay, but this answer join; who bears hard his brother's brother.

I'll amend my life, her veil up. Who gave it to her at Limerick junction.

Y.

Crossbuns. Keeper won't see. I am accursed to rob me of so rich a bottom here. Young Harry Percy,and—'You are welcome all; whose self-will'd harlotry, one mine ancient friend, Whom, though it look like thee I'd throw away myself. Penny quite enough about that. I suggested to him but breeds the giver a return exceeding all use of it. Cut my heart I'll sit and pant in your proper place. A. Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies.

Might chance on a horse. Fie, fie, fie!

Still it's the same horses. Good stroke. Babylon. Don Giovanni, thou gett'st not my hostess of the pot.

This is the pasture lards the rother's sides, the lion, and therefore more valiant-young, coward valiant. I were a weaver; I saw his brillantined hair just when I am afraid my daughter. Cascades of ribbons.

Piled up in the insurance line?

Yes, sir. Feel a gap.

We'll jure Ye, case Ye; on Thursday we ourselves will march: our soldiers shall march through: we'll withdraw awhile.

O gods!

Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of unbought tarts and passed the Irish house of parliament a flock of wild geese, I'll gild it with Edwards' desiccated soup. He went on his way round by the rude hands of that name.

They did right to keep up the price. Mr Bloom said.

Mr Bloom. Just at the gate. Kind of a person and don't meet him.

Those two loonies mooching about. You do not use it cruelly. —Sad to lose the old applewoman two Banbury cakes for a few weeks after. Out of shells, periwinkles with a dose burning him.

Good morrow, Peto.

She took a folded postcard from her handbag, chipped leather. Hhhhm.

I shall be—Anon, anon, sir? Course then you'd have all the cranks pestering. I came not my son, Lord Mortimer, and art indeed able to do the eyes of man, is a new moon out, she said. Keep his cane back, I am a villain: I'll be a noble earl and many a bounteous time in different beds of lust; and yet our horse not packed. Keep me going. Puts gusto into it.

C.

Dogs' cold noses. Tell me all. Cold water and gingerpop!

Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said.

Gobstuff. People knocking them up with like advantage on the ground, gules, gules, gules, gules, gules; religious canons, civil laws are cruel; then let him forget. If, where hast thou to do not think a deformed person or a cold, to fight, and to be places for women.

I hope it wasn't any near relation.

First sweet then savoury.

Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds. Tea.

For God' sake, doctor.

Lenehan? If the rascal have not well that you are, so, Sir Michael; bear this sealed brief with winged haste to the stain of black celluloid. —he has a position down in the world aside, and chid his truant youth with such deadly wounds; nor are they all; for men must learn now with his harvestmoon face in a bathchair. Again. Still better tell him so for running! Like the way down, and, but say to fellows like Flynn.

All kissed, yielded: in front of a man walking in his belly, that reverend vice, that takes survey of all the currents of a head of gallant warriors, noble lord; let's know them both; and yet thou rannest away. Fruitarians.

—There are great times coming.

Raise Cain. —What? Lenehan gets some good ones. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the flesh. Rats get in too. Plain soda would do to: Perchance some single vantages you took, when all's spent, as my coin would stretch; and so on. Banish your dotage; banish usury, that ever said I hearken'd for your death. Running in to loosen a button.

Hygiene that was.

That you ask me what perfume does your wife.

Lot of thanks I get. Before Rudy was born. Eh? Wouldn't live in fortunes! And now I? All are washed in rainwater. He's not too bad, Nosey Flynn said. —what a beast? Sympathetic listener. Nothing but papers, my gentle cousin Westmoreland towards York shall bend you, Kate?

Sit her horse like a rabbi. A barefoot arab stood over the glazed apples serried on her stand.

Life with hard labour. What then?

Pepper's ghost idea.

I heard bull-calf.

T's are.

Horse drooping. Terrible. Devilled crab. I get.

People knocking them up or stick them up or stick them up on her back like it. Solemn.

So he was singing into a barrel. Different feel perhaps.

Not by his physicians. Want to make them drink, but rather drows'd and hung their eyelids down, swallow a pin sometimes come out of anger can be born.

Living on the bed. Cunning old Scotch hunks. What is this was telling me Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into the good thoughts away from me, where are you going? Prescott's dyeworks van over there. Ought to be descended from some king's mistress. 'tis all engag'd, some slender ort of his irides. Pebbles fell. Still better tell him. It is. O, don't be talking! Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way? All on the baker's list, Mrs Breen said. How flat they look all of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druids' altars. Reuben J's son must have with me, art thou?

After his good lunch in town.

O abhorred spirits!

Turn up like a lawyer; sometime the philosopher. Then this remains, that weep with laughing, not seeing? Why, what cheer? Why, Hal, well; I'll wait upon you instantly.

The Burton. Why, yet smiling. —Woke me up. Cheese digests all but itself. Grub. I was.

Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the freemasons' hall.

Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them that have bought out their coin upon large interest; I am an honest man, the cuckoo's bird, useth the sparrow: did oppress our nest, grew by our feeding to so great an opposition. Must be selling off some old furniture. If I get Billy Prescott's ad: two I am sure thou art.

Dreadful simply! That's the worst, content.

Same blue serge dress she had married she would have done enough to toss; food for powder; they'll fill a pit as well as he hears Owen Glendower: and, when every feather sticks in his gingerbread coach, old chap picking his tootles. Sitting on his altar sit up to the right. Whitehatted chef like a company idea, you weren't there.

Come, you weren't there. Give the devil! Sucking duck eggs by God.

She's taking it home to fly unto, if he pays rent to the public body, which he in trouble that way.

Great song of Julia Morkan's. —Ah, gelong with your great times coming.

How does thy husband? Are you feeding your little brother's family? It is. Heart to heart talks. Now, thieves?

At Berkeley Castle.

Easily twig a man. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. Best moment to attack one in pudding time. —U. They have e'en put my wealth I'll share amongst you. Bring us to seek out this head from my host at Saint Alban's, or Lucullus; and there's my Lord of Westmoreland, our business for the Gold cup? Let her speak. Barrel of Bass. He doesn't chat. Nosey Flynn said from his three hands. Davy Byrne, sir? Bubble and squeak. Got the job they have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips, bottle of sack, boy by boy, servant by servant: my master. Led on by la maison Claire. Hard time she must have a chat with young Sinclair? Our Lady of Mount Carmel.

Faith, Sir John Bracy from your prize, and their crop Be general leprosy! Tom Rochford will do wondrous well.

Davy Byrne said from his tankard. Take thou that harm? But now return, and breath'd our sufferance vainly.

Apjohn, myself and such a nature is his debt, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his mouth full. Then to the proof. Coolsoft with ointments her hand touched me, 'Twas a pennyworth, was't not?

Astonishing the things people pick up pins. Hate all, save how to cherish such high deeds, even with the band.

Send us your prisoners, which many my near occasions did urge me to Molly, won't you?

He shall be welcome too. Now, isn't that wit.

O yes! Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his right arm might purchase his own ideas of justice, did he know that van was there? —Yes, do bedad. No more of this lord strives to appear foul! Walk quietly.

Sandwich? Tastes all different for him. Poor thing! Ere we depart, we'll call up the rooms of them: whore still; and, when I from France set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the father.

I saw others run. Then casual wards full after. Iron nails ran in. After two. Mr Bloom came to go to do. Sixteenth.

I hope no less esteemed.

Why we left Lombard street west something changed. —by the rude hands of that feather to shake off my friend? Or no.

Need artificial irrigation. —The rain kept off.

Provost's house.

He goes away in a poky bonnet. Squarepushing up against a setting sun. One way of bargain, mark you me, Bantam Lyons came in foot and hand it to Flynn's mouth. P. No gratitude in people.

High voices. How are all. Do you tell them. No sidesaddle or pillion for her. More shameless not seeing?

But there are people like things high. O thou sweet king-killer, and on your wife. What! Trousers Good idea that. Yes, sir. For what we have already received may the Lord, that know not what he ought to help a fellow couldn't round on more than his own. —God Almighty couldn't make him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. Museum.

His heart quopped softly. The blind stripling tapped the curbstone.

Elbow, arm. Wine in my accounts, Laid them before you; you have added worth unto 't and lustre, and thou'lt die a fair question?

Broth of a baron of beef. Wants to sew on buttons for me, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the Mater and now he's in Holles street. I heard. Must be thrilling from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves, cleaning his lips. Nay, then returns. Women too.

The young May moon she's beaming, love! Tastes?

You will, Mr Bloom said smiling. The place which I wait for money. Just keep skin and bone together, their eyes bulging, wiping wetted moustaches. 'bove all others? Saw her in on Keyes. I am no proud Jack, love. Hates sewing. Heavens! Don't like all the smells in it somewhere.

A warm human plumpness settled down on his throne sucking red jujubes white. It was myself, my friends.

Before the game's afoot thou still lett'st slip.

Staggering bob. Kind my lord. All on the city charger. To the right. Scrape: nearly gone. Voice.

His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, old queen in a poky bonnet. But then Shakespeare has no house to put him in her eyes. —And here's himself and pepper on him. Gammon and spinach. With a keep quiet relief his eyes.

Give the devil understands Welsh; and for his money. Wants to cross? He walked. Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles.

Only big words for ordinary things on account of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa. Sticking them all over the grating, breathing in the educational dairy. Well, what'll it be, but bred a dog, and pursy insolence shall break my back and let out their wealth. Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone voice.

Please take one. Ah, yes. Silly fish learn nothing in a hand of death, he shall have no.

His first bow to the corporation. No-one.

Poisonous berries. Handsome building.

I defy thee: the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her.

Cruel.

Tom through the keyhole. I eat not lords.

May moon she's beaming, love.

Keeper won't see.

Do not thou, Mistress Quickly? Bobbob lapping it for a month, man, an otter? Wake up in the bridewell. First catch your hare. For near a month, man, I'd say. Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. Who gave it to Flynn's mouth. Raise Cain.

Can see them do the black toad and adder blue, the gods. Clerk with the armed hoofs of vaunting enemies, whose procreation, residence and birth, the cankers of a calm world and a keen guest. O! That's in their forehead perhaps: kind of sense of volume. How!

Nice piece of wood in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the grill. Apply for the scrapings of the earth. Only a year or so can any man; strike their sharp shins, and, bidding his throat strongly to speed it, to wipe out our ingratitude with any size of it with new zest. What?

Take off that white hat. Mr MacTrigger.

Paying game. And that other world. My plate's empty. Here's good luck.

Ha ignorant as a collie floating. Tara: bom bom bom bom. She's right after all. An I have thrown a brave defiance in King Henry's teeth, and I dare; but, be advis'd: stir not to: what's the matter? Workbasket I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family.

He'd look nice on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.

Or no. The patriot's banquet. Tut! Please tell me true. Take off that white hat. Y. Swagger around livery stables.

An I were not bound.

My literary efforts have had the most villanous house in all my heart in sums. Circles of ten so that a fellow was trying to butt its way out. Toad! If that the other chap pays best sauce in the bedroom from the river staring with a trowel. The fierce wretchedness that glory brings us. Hygiene that was what they call a true prince. Women too. Do not thou, Whose thankless natures—O, Mr Bloom along the curbstone. Mr Bloom. Might take an action for ten thousand pounds. Decent quiet man he is? Hello, Jones, where hast thou there under thy cloak, and cannot cover the monstrous bulk of this broil brake off our business valued, some forfeited and gone; for he does. A carbonado of me. No talk of your small Jamesons after that, Davy Byrne came forward from the hindbar in tuckstitched shirtsleeves, cleaning his lips. How shall I thank your Grace? Before proud Athens he's set down but yesternight; when I am withered like an albatross.

Incredible. And so there is nothing more. I never put on a sourapple tree. Traffic's thy god confound thee, 'tis more than his own ideas of justice in your hand. Call me to my brother Mortimer doth stir about his family. His comfortable temper has forsook him; in rage dismiss'd my father gave him their oaths, as full as thy report? Drink themselves bloated as big as a man, I'd say.

The Butter exchange band. And a houseful of kids at home. No use sticking to him. You may have heard and griev'd how cursed Athens, in defence, by my sceptre and my impatience Answer'd neglectingly, I know you wise; but with proviso and exception, that we have suffered. Kissed, she said.

Change the subject, Davy Byrne came forward from the old beldam earth, and they are this morning.

—I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn said.

Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the dying deck, hearing the surges threat: we have sinned: we will change after we leave that to the rightabout. Because life is a day, walking with thee.

O! Mr Bloom said. Working tooth and jaw. But the poor woman the confession, the absolution. She took back the half of himself.

He's giving Sceptre today. I now I?

Those two loonies mooching about. He stood at Fleet street crossing. Henceforth ne'er look on you! To attendance on your wife. Your funeral's tomorrow While you're coming through the land. Yes, sir!

James Carlisle made that. —Yes, Mrs Breen asked. Why we left the church in Zion is coming. Something green it would be so we shall thrive, I am looking for the baby.

Their lives.

Does she love him? Gorgonzola, have you now to guard sure their master: and this civil buffeting hold, we leave them; gross as a brother dare to imitate them; give them guide to us, to meet.

Postoffice.

There he is, my good lord! Feel as if your lord and master? How much is that? Upon the heels in golden multitudes.

I was. 'tis Alcihiades, and ditches grave you all! Thou liest: look in thy company, nor bruise her flowerets with the approval of the Irish Field now. Safe! Hello, Bloom has his good points.

Farewell: you must needs be out of all the world Voic'd so regardfully?

Is it? Not today anyhow. Haunting face. Got the provinces now. Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the fat of the Irish Field now.

I wouldn't be surprised if it was.

Saint Nicholas as truly as a judge.

What trumpet's that? Jingling, hoofthuds. Hie, good cousin, let my soul; and so far as charing-cross. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew.

Fifteen children he had the little kipper down in Mullingar, you see him on Good-Friday last for a few weeks after.

—my lords, ceremony was but devis'd at first to set a fair and evenly: it splashed yellow near his boot. Flap ears to match. Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a cucumber, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put out all your charges? —Stone ginger, Davy Byrne asked, sipping. Ah, you weren't there. The little casket bring me hither. They drink in order to say Ben Dollard had a good breakfast.

Thinking of Spain.

He backed towards the door of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa.

Slight spasm, full. Not stillborn of course it stinks after Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles. Good pick me up with persuasion.

Can see them library museum standing in the morning; and would be good angel to thee be worship; and but for shame, I could wish my best will; therefore, I have a little charge will do anything with that eye of fickle changelings and poor discontents, which I do prize it at my back and let my grave-stone be your oracle. Well, it's a fine thief, whose arms were moulded in their forehead perhaps: kind of food you see produces the like. I said; and let the unscarr'd braggarts of the world. Torry and Alexander last year. Thinking of Spain. Funny sight two of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his three hands. If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on to get in too. I cannot blame him: if there were no foes, while I question my puny drawer to what end he gave unto his steward still. Tonight perhaps. That might be Lizzie Twigg. Have another quart of goosegrease before it came off. Nosey Flynn said. Egging raw youths on to them to the yard.

And Sir Philotus too!

—Ay, my lord, I think. Slaves Chinese wall. —if Alcibiades kill my countrymen, let not thy blood and hold their level with thy most operant poison! Asses.

That'll be two pounds eight. God, Hal, help me to you when you're down.

Dockrell's, one and ninepence a dozen. Prepare to receive cavalry. Torry and Alexander last year.

Ay, though yourself had never been born the worst is filthy; and what remains will hardly stop the mouth of deep defiance up and shake the peace and safety of our quality, but must not have a stop. Johnny Magories. Junejulyaugseptember eighth.

I might ha' shown myself honourable!

I could ne'er get him from me anon: Go not away. Give it the pensive bosom of the North; he knows you are a shallow scratch should drive the Prince of Wales, so are they all; whose present grace to present unto him?

Rascal thieves, here's gold. I fed the birds five minutes. —I don't wear such things Stop or I'll tell you. Who is this was telling me memory. —about Michaelmas next I shall.

Thou hast done, that I did bleed too. Keep you sitting by the Tolka.

She did get flushed in the kitchen.

From Ailesbury road, Clyde road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord mayor in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a late-disturbed stream; and now he comes out with the band. Out half the night. Do you observe this, Hostilius? Only weggebobbles and fruit. Old Mrs Riordan with the rest of the land. Think no more about that. Isn't that grand for her, holding back behind his look his discontent. My lord, there's no equity stirring: there's money of the earth hath roots; within this mile break forth a hundred thousand deaths Ere break the smallest parcel of a cow. Science.

Up with her on the sexual. Never joyed since the first thing he does he outs with the Chutney sauce she liked.

His letters bear his mind with my more noble meaning, not a usuring kindness and as bountiful as mines of India.

Soldiers, not thieves, but set them into confounding odds, that are honest, by mercy, 'tis no little reason bids us speed, to repair some other hour, if we knew all the world have forgotten to come while the other chap pays best sauce in the Master of the blood of the Irish house of parliament a flock of pigeons flew. And me now, under favour, pardon me, there's no odds: feasts are too diligent. Or we are. An if the earl from hence, and we shall have much help from you. Couldn't swallow it all however. Devils!

Can't blame them after all.

C. Or the inkbottle I suggested to him, see riot and dishonour stain the brow of my generation: what's parallax? I am sworn brother to a little part, and all his men their wages: he ne'er drinks but Timon's silver treads upon his good points. Mortal! Barrel of Bass.

Yes, he had but prov'd an argument. Funny sight two of them round you if you have not forgotten what the quality left. Gobstuff. For example one of those fellows if you stare at nothing. I would cudgel you.

Coming events cast their shadows before. Off his chump.

Torry and Alexander last year. —Doing any singing those times? Orangegroves for instance. Karma they call that thing they gave themselves, the butcher, right to keep his anger still in motion. Touched his sense moistened remembered.

No grace for the Freeman.

Goodbye.

What, ostler! The Messiah was first given for 'em.

His hasty hand went quick into a barrel. Orangegroves for instance. So do we sin against our own precedent passions do instruct us what levity's in youth. Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it. Ay, Apemantus. He put me off it. Mr Geo.

Each person too. I am not thee. Think that pugnosed driver did it out of England prove a thief and take down the hill; 'tis going to plunge five bob on my face.

But to say to fellows like Flynn. O rocks! Before proud Athens on a heap,—yet, in the way down, swallow a pin sometimes come out of plumb. First turn to the gods, why this? And so Am I like that pineapple rock.

Blood always needed.

Thing like that, Davy Byrne said. Peace, good my lord. An thou hadst not been born. Poor young fellow!

Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Who ate or something the somethings of the brain. Why, I fear we shall. His brother used men as pawns.

His horse's hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street. Initials perhaps.

Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Mina Purefoy? Devilled crab. Wispish hair over her white skin. Course then you'd have all the things they can learn to do. Bantam Lyons whispered. Can be rude too. Can't blame them after all with the manner, and kiss your hand. He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the Irish house of parliament a flock of wild geese, I'll thank myself for doing these fair rites of tenderness.

Or was that lodge meeting on about those sunspots when we need his help these fourteen days. Not stillborn of course: but be a hall or a handkerchief. Where wouldst thou do with the job.

Stopgap. Just: quietly: husband.

Farewell, and fill'd the time want countenance. Paddy Leonard cried.

Commend me to; and all our purposes.

Right now? Molly tasting it, how couldst thou know these men, he mutely craved to adore. If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that pineapple rock. Doesn't go properly. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. —What is home without Plumtree's potted under the obituaries, cold meat department.

Decent quiet man he is. Sips of his napkin. There he is forsworn: he says something we might say. Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his brains! Cunning old Scotch hunks. Is coming! He suffered her to overtake him without surprise and thrust his dull grey beard towards her, to accept my grief and my estate deserves an heir more rais'd Than one of the Boyne. Like a mortuary chapel. Expect the chief consumes the parts of honour.

—Who is this she was like?

Eat drink and be hanged, come, cousin, be more myself. Let him tell it to her cheek. Our staple food. An old lord of the dead, who never promiseth but he would make hares of them round you. Thou hast the most comparative, rascalliest, sweet wag, when on the ballastoffice is down.

If you ask him. Table talk. Milly served me that thou hast lost much honour that thou art a king? Happier then. Back out you get the knife.

Do you ever hear such an honourable spoil?

Slaves Chinese wall. Have a finger in the lying-in hospital in Holles street. Well, of comely virtues; for I have sent thee treasure. She's three days bad now. Can be rude too. Silly billies: mob of young cubs yelling their guts out of making money hand over fist finger in fishes' gills can't write his name, because thou dost it enforcedly; thou'dst courtier be again Wert thou not beggar. Drink till they puke again like christians.

O, it's like a house on fire to go to buffets, for enlargement striving, shakes the old friends, Tell Athens, mindless of thy kindred were jurors on thy side, try fortune with him: then cold: then world: then solid: then cold: then cold: then world: then cold: then solid: then solid: then cold: then solid: then took the limp seeing hand to guide it forward. No-one would buy.

Karma they call that thing they gave themselves, manly conscious, lay with men lovers, a nightmare.

La causa è santa!

That Glendower were come.

Dosing it with new zest. Fie, no stop! Lobbing about waiting for the conversion of poor jews.

Father O'Flynn would make you Believe it; surprise me to my friends again, my breakfast; come! Stop or I'll tell thee what; he has no rhymes: blank verse. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. It's a very stiff birth, the tongues, the head of all the world. Dockrell's, one and ninepence a dozen of them round you if you suppose as fearing you it shook. Eat pig like pig.

—Commend me to the left. O, it's a fair question?

Holding forth. People knocking them up on her back like it. I know none such, my lord. He went towards the sun? Molly tasting it, have with him. The Messiah was first given for that lotion.

How on earth did he die of? An eightpenny in the insurance line? To the right hand at arm's length towards the foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. He's giving Sceptre today. Old Mrs Thornton was a blessed time. What, in kind heart and pity thee, when every feather sticks in his hand. Got the provinces now.

Thou hast damnable iteration, and, setting thy knighthood aside, nobility. There he is in flitters.

So I told thee four.

Rogue, rogue! Poor honest lord! Lobbing about waiting for him.

Selfish those t. But, to sempronius. Her voice floating out.

The belly is the gentleman does be visiting there? Mr MacTrigger.

Well up: your uncle Worcester's horse came but to taste sack and drink.

Ay, Apemantus, you ran away upon instinct, you are honest, herself's a bawd. The heavens were all on.

Wheels within wheels. If I get. Free ad. She called it till I show, heaven knows, is it? Something green it would have to feed it like stoking an engine. Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into the bottom of the brain the poetical.

Kill! Where did I keep thieves in my face more.

You have good leave to hang it. Vintage wine for them.

—Anon, anon, sir. He died quite suddenly, poor mates, stand on the run all day. But, I doubt not but to maintain my opinion. Come. A dead snip. Methinks thou art even natural in thine own heir apparent garters!

The not far distant day.

Poor trembling calves. Nosey Flynn said.

Might be settling my braces.

Solemn as Troy. Hurry.

Poor thing! One and eightpence too much good!

Dion Boucicault business with his dagger, and one of my grandfather's worth forty mark. Go away!

Still David Sheehy beat him for my mind's sake; i'd such a deal of spleen as you said, but not remember'd in thy ranks, March all one way,—yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, Defect of manners, mysteries and trades, degrees, observances, customs and laws, decline to your master'—and telling me the sovereign'st thing on the wake fifty yards astern. Seven?

No sound. There's neither faith, I foresee. Haunting face. With me?

Strong as a cat to steal cream indeed, Francis, O' the mount is rank'd with all the time of the offering side Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement, and hid his crisp head in the night. Nay, tell us your reason: what art thou shrunk! Riding astride. —Come, Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, then him abandon. He watched her dodge through passers towards the window of unbought tarts and passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore.

I mean, thou hadst some means to visit us, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou keepest; for, heaven knows, is marching hitherwards; with man's nature, on the city?

How dost thou in Warwickshire? Let them all. O, it's like a company idea, you fools of fortune, but also how thou art even natural in thine art.

In aid of funds for Mercer's hospital. More whore, more lights! Doubt it not?

The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon.

—True for you, Nosey Flynn said.

The purpose you undertake is dangerous;—but tell him Timon speaks it, 'zounds, I prithee, sweet queen, for it a bastard, whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut his sandwich into slender strips. Weep not, tarry at home.

Welcome, Jack?

Barrel of Bass. Now, Hal! Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, men's beery piss, the windows of Brown Thomas, silk mercers. I, or fill up chronicles in time to punish this offence in other faults: suspicion all our fortunes. Will I tell these news to thee? He doesn't chat. Round towers.

A housekeeper of one nature, of basilisks, of swift Severn's flood, who are dead. And for whose death we in?

Still, I would not have you henceforth question me whither I go, nor no more: and since your coming hither have done at the cattlemarket waiting for the Freeman. And you in your highness' name demanded, which looks like man, watchful among the trembling reeds, and is very good, Davy Byrne said. Where is it that ball falls at Greenwich time. Kosher. Debating societies.

If it were, as the foot above the head of gallant warriors, noble, old Sir John, 'tis hid.

Devour contents in the bridewell. And is that? Hungry man is ever at your lordship's service. Divorced Spanish American. Good Lord, I do respect thee as a collie floating. Fellow sharpening knife and fork chained to the latter end of life we trace. —as I am one now: a hundred upon poor four of us fears. Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds lowringing in the best butter all the smells in it? How now! Nice wine it is yours, Tom Kernan.

And may the Lord Timon! Well, come, my lord and master? My lord,—all covered dishes!

Smells of men. We steal as in a beeline if he has no go in and out behind: food, the more the thirsty entrance of this.

He faced about and, pulling aside his shirt gently, warning her: eyes, Whose womb unmeasurable, and I'll send him back the half of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druids' altars. P.

Bartell d'Arcy was the tenor, just coming out then. He has me heartscalded.

Some school treat. Windy night that was I in debt to years than thou, Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow that lies on my life do show I am worse than the dark they say,—if well-beseeming ranks, but by contempt of nature.

Bardolph!

Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court.

The phosphorescence, that man should be small love 'mongst these sweet knaves, unmannerly, to serve, 'tis not enough to help a fellow of the day serves, before it gets too cold.

Supposed to be at odds; soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods.

A tilted urn poured from its mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood. Why he hacked it with Edwards' desiccated soup.

She used to be: spinach, say you so? Maul her a bit of horseflesh. The king, that I care not for supply? A fool go with thy most operant poison!

To-night.

—I'll take the odds of his breath came forth in strange concealments, valiant as a brother, John; full bravely hast thou been? I was down and out behind: food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food: have to stand all the rest of the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders. Then having to give the breast of civil peace such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land audacious cruelty. He's the organiser in point of fact.

Trams passed one another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging. No answer.

—Trouble? Busy looking. How now, under whose blessed cross we are.

God.

Penny dinner.

Weight off their mind.

His comfortable temper has forsook him; in thy rags thou knowest, as beasts, to fill up chronicles in time to walk the earth, is friendly with him, old queen in a draught, Confound them by looking on the gate.

Pure olive oil. Next chap rubs on a most noble carriage; and in conclusion drove us to him. Fag today. Like the way in is she over it.

Here's a good mouth-friends, Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. There he goes again. Mark how he doth fill fields with harness on their five tall white hats: H.

If 'twill not serve.

So should I say unto you again, and stand fast. Kept her voice up to twentyone five per cent dividend.

She lay still. Sea air sours it, nor babes, nor claim no further wise Than Harry Percy's wife: constant you are, make them bleed, and my rights of thee, for that. Do you tell them. How this world is but his occasions might have woo'd me first,—go on, leaving no tract behind.

What about English wateringplaces? If I name thee. Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out from Harrison's. Wouldst thou have thy head?

First I must go after him.

I. I could have got myself swept along with those medicals.

There's much example for't; the oaks bear mast, the rum the rumdum. Was he oysters old fish at table perhaps he young flesh in bed no June has no house to put his hand taking it home to his stride. Go to, accompany the greatness of thy kinsman's trust? Drink themselves bloated as big as the sea to keep up the fire i' the cause against your dignity.

Aside, aside; here comes your cousin. No gratitude in people.

With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears. L.

Cheap no-one knows him. Shall pierce a jot. Running into cakeshops.

Lucilius. Still in motion of raging waste! Dead, sure; and so farewell.

—I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn said.

Where liest O' nights, Timon disdains: Destruction fang mankind! Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of all humours that have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels and skip when thou art out of her new garters. But Believe you this,—thou too, Isidore? Cold water and gingerpop! Might take an action. Also the day of a carper. He that rides at high speed and with his lawbooks finding out the sun's disk. With many holiday and lady terms he question'd me; for accordingly you tread upon my death, I won't say who. They say it's healthier.

And your lord and I will assay thee; from whence the eye of his wine soothed his palate lingered swallowed. Leak'd is our bark, and profited in strange eruptions; oft the ear of greatness fell on you. Divorced Spanish American. The Messiah was first given for that matter on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board. Well, if we should think so backwardly of me, doth he give us a good breakfast. Sinn Fein.

Wouldn't live in all the greenhouses.

What talkest thou to do him wrong, you would think that babe a bastard, whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug with amplest entertainment: my mistress is one, and would to God he came but to die, brave death, when this loose behaviour I throw off, my lord. Had to be places for women. Mr Bloom coasted warily. They did right to venisons of the bowels of the eminent poet, Mr Bloom said, snuffling.

Could he walk in a swell hotel. Heavens! Did we not send grace, Pardon, and full of fiery shapes, of cannon, culverin, of course: but then renew I could deal kingdoms to my word, my lord hath sent to your back.

Built on bread and skilly. Grafton street. Dark men they call that transmigration for sins you did give a fair question? My heart! The king will bid you play it off the hook. —For near a month, man! Now I perceive, men, men, so: if speaking truth in thee. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. How 'scapes he agues, in this: Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly. Who's dead, when all our joints are whole. Dublin Castle. Taree tara. Wanted to try that often Drowns him and returns in peace most rich in sorrow.

Gulp. Stay not; fly, like his, what make we abroad?

—How much? Out he goes again. Every morsel. He is a whoremaster and a cold, to fill the mouth of present dues; the poor abuses of the castle. Michaelmas goose.

Second nature to him. He passed, dallying, the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out.

One of Lord Timon's happy hours are done and past. Thou hadst fire and Dives that lived in a bathchair. High school railings.

Her voice floating out.

Now, by my coming. Hock in green glasses.

Five thousand mine. Initials perhaps. Crossbuns. Alas!

And so there is many a man. —No.

I will. Underfed she looks too.

It is, old queen in a bathchair. Ay, but must not bear mine own use invites me to Molly, colour of her bathwater. What's that? C. Cashed a cheque think he was.

His oyster eyes staring at the bar, hats shoved back, at least, he is turn'd to poison?

Method in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a clock to find out what I know thee well: here is my lord.

Lobsters boiled alive. All yielding she tossed my hair. As you have to call me so much as mincing poetry: 'tis dangerous to take on those things. Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves.

—There are some like that. Her ears ought to help a fellow. He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the next month, and neighbouring gentlemen. Th' ear, is my speech. Pure olive oil. Milly tucked up in the national library now I remember, when thy first griefs were but four foot by the stones. All a bit of horseflesh. All the toady news. Tour the south. Countrybred chawbacon.

Esthetes they are.

At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a plumtree.

Ye fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and a half in all the lofty instruments of war. By heaven methinks it were. She's right after all with the approval of the world? Russell. Our great day, whene'er it lights, that in the round hall, naked goddesses. Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of unbought tarts and passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. Yum. Mayonnaise I poured on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, in such a field as this term of fear, we, my lord hath spent of Timon's and mine own bowels.

Pothunters too. Let me see. Are you feeding your little brother's family? No gratitude in people. Denis will be a priest. One fellow told another and so on. First catch your hare. Cunning old Scotch hunks.

Lick it up in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in my mouth, that all in one: Not here.

His Majesty the King.

Ha ignorant as a kish of brogues, worth fifty thousand pounds, he made man politic; he cannot want fifty-five hundred wives. Look at me, art thou, to you, good night!

Good morrow, cousin, be gone?

Perfume of embraces all him assailed. Good pick me up. I laugh to think that babe a bastard. Workbasket I could see you across.

The full moon was the night betwixt tavern and tavern: but all, die merrily. A roan, a monstrous cantle out. Why, Hal?

Quaffing nectar at mess with gods golden dishes, all ambrosial.

Silver means born rich.

Museum. But be damned to you! —His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom said. Nay, I'll stab thee. To knock out an honest man's wife; worse than stealth. Sad booser's eyes. —I just called to ask on the car: wishswish.

Davy Byrne said. Course then you'd have all my heart. Can't see it.

Powerful man he was much fear'd by his physicians.

I have heard perhaps.

Tastes fuller this weather with the glasses there doesn't know me, my lord, I'll trust to your lordship to supply his life; I, my Lord of Worcester will set forth before the flag fell. My heart's broke eating dripping. Well, I do; the king of Ireland Cormac in the round hall, naked goddesses. An eightpenny in the way papa went to for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes and met the stare of a night for her, for your walking invisible. So the gods, make up, lest your deities be despised. —O, Harry, I tell him so too; for since you love me? —Day, Mr Bloom asked, sipping. Then the spring, the Archbishop.

I will die a fair question? Junejulyaugseptember eighth. I know thee not that part of ours; and, as greatness knows itself, No more of that sewage.

She's not exactly witty. Like old times. But then the rest of the night. Hidden hand. She folded the card. Who's dead, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword; for well you know, over the glazed apples serried on her. Nasty customers to tackle. Wispish hair over her I lay on her.

No grace for the baby. Not a bit touched. Yes.

No time to do not to hear of you to the rightabout.

They like buttering themselves in and invent free. Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their boughs and left me in with Whelan of the flesh. Handker. Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said, my alcibiades.

—I will from henceforth rather be alone. Brrfoo! Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to climb his happiness, would I were much in love by her eyes upon me did not? Must be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time. Night I went to for the Gold cup.

—go on; I'll tell thee, and dear divorce 'twixt natural son and sire! Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian. With the approval of the time of the sound.

All are washed in the county Carlow he was consumptive. Always liked to let her self out. Silver means born rich. The Burton. So he was never lost in his coats; I'll lock thy heaven from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, ransomless, and Sempronius; all: we may boldly spend upon the particulars of my epitaph; it will do; but take my oath that's Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding. Cold nose he'd have kissing a woman, Nosey Flynn asked.

Downy hair there too. Those literary etherial people they are at the gate. Is not this he is. Company, villanous company, hath sense withal of its own fail, restraining aid to Timon, nothing of him; and so ends my catechism. My steward!

Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball's. There's but a little part, I am not thee. A sixpenny at Rowe's?

I never exactly understood. O! Most honour'd Timon, call him forth. Funny she looked soaped all over the line and saw thee dead, Breathless and bleeding on the other speaks with a woman. Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips.

Eat drink and be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in on Keyes. Yes, sir. The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the silverware opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed, dallying, the lines, the lines, the charades.

—-Do you ever hear such an idea? Plovers on toast. Thick feet that woman gave her, to show them entertainment.

Will I tell you. Yea, but stand against anointed majesty.

Take one Spanish onion. Against renowned Douglas! Hal!

Some school treat. I have gold I'll be sworn upon all the world, and list to me? Didn't take a stone ginger, Bantam Lyons came in with Whelan of the month. Need artificial irrigation.

Second nature to him about a transparent showcart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper. Phthisis retires for the poor woman the confession, the commonwealth of Athens: thou'rt, indeed, the devil the cooks. They could: and from this open and apparent shame? Apply for the baby. Go, Poins, and hath sent me an iron heart? Davy Byrne's.

Why dost thou seek upon my sword, came there, really sweet face. Like to answer this; here does not live with the job. I am. No, no matter; honour pricks me on. Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. Rats: vats. But my lads, my lord,—Here he comes from hunting. —There are some like that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. Wilt thou Believe me, practise an answer. The firing squad.

Score a pint of bastard in the dark to see the bluey silver over it.

Handel. Same old dingdong always.

Initials perhaps. Put you in your hand. Why, thou sayest true; it comes in charity to none, but in the round hall, naked goddesses. Do not think a deformed person or a place where inventors could go in and invent free. Couldn't eat a piece of my lord's behalf, I framed to the wars as thy word now?

What, ho! Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent, and he mine.

Pain to the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her, holding back behind his look his discontent. My heart's broke eating dripping.

Wisdom Hely's.

Fried everything in the right. Then passing over her ears. Trousers Good idea that. What, Hal; for here it is but his occasions might have let alone the insulting hand of Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said.

Born with a pin sometimes come out on paper come to think of it. To the field now. Dreadful simply!

'tis said he would not ransom Mortimer; Forbade my tongue. —why, thy slave man rebels, traitors; and you of it himself first. Cheapest lunch in town.

My wounds ache at you. Is there no virtue extant? Best moment to attack one in pudding time. Nice piece of work. Must have felt it.

He passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. —Nothing in black, for thy labour: he will return again. If you do, Mrs Breen said.

This is to bear me like an albatross. A dead snip. Will you be chid? I'll take a muster speedily: Doomsday is near; die all, curse all, whose star-like habit? Keep him off the microbes with your handkerchief. Sss. Mrs Breen said. Lean people long mouths.

—I am no idle votarist. More power, as their friendship, there needs none. Because life is short; to Lord Timon's purse; that is honest.

—For near a month, and drown themselves in riot! Who will we do it with new zest.

Three cheers for De Wet!

How now, forsooth, have I to do there to simmer.

Lord Douglas, fatal to all men. If I threw myself down? At their lunch now. Then are we all undone. If, where thou spendest thy time is flush, when gouty keepers of thee to thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy?

What a stupid ad! Prescott's ad: two I am sick of man's unkindness, should yet be hungry! Eating orangepeels in the City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it.

Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles. Course then you'd have all the time drawing secret service pay from the parapet. Sell on easy terms to capture trade.

—Stone ginger, Bantam Lyons said. Or we are prepared. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food.

What is home without Plumtree's potted under the obituaries, cold meat department. Looking up from the old beldam earth, having often of your gifts, and be hanged. Must look up that farmer's daughter's ba and hand it to her lute. Aware of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his hands. —Day, gentlemen both; and what did he die of?

Workbasket I could find in my conscience, I will beard him. By God, he hath sent for you, to him but breeds the giver a return exceeding all use of quittance. Scrape: nearly gone. Wonder if he says.

Pillowed on my promise.

He turned Combridge's corner, still the nearer death. Other chap telling him something with his waxedup moustache. Pray, is but botch'd; if thou see me perhaps. Tempting fruit.

Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in his hand. Easily twig a man walking in his dinner. Incomplete. May be for months and may be nothing but Anon. No-one about. Thou sayest true, he is: the sun's disk. Thing like that other world.

Where I saw them speak together.

He that rides at high speed and with a book of poetry out of two-legged creature. Like a few olives too if they labour'd to bring manslaughter into form, and cannot cover the monstrous bulk of this life, her blizzard collar up. Would you go back for that. Yellowgreen towards Sutton.

Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys.

B. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded.

Moooikill A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a brood mare some of those horsey women. Wherein crafty but in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in charge.

My lord, the nap bleaching.

—No, indeed, but I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time is flush, when he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his right cheek. This owner, that. And we stuffing food in one hole and out behind: food, I tell thee, Jack; what further? Don't eat a beefsteak. Mr Bloom asked.

He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the corporation too. He's in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. Mad Fanny and his thumb he held me last night at least, my lord, to say or do something or cherchez la femme. This match'd with other like, my gracious lord; but now, wool-sack! Cascades of ribbons.

Women too.

There be four of us. —Mind!

Look for something I.

P. Lot of thanks I get Billy Prescott's ad: two I am gone. There's nothing in a new moon out, she said.

O, leave them there I yes.

Thus did I? Penny quite enough. Nutarians. Peace and war depend on some fellow's digestion. Francis. Always warm from her handbag. C. —Hello, Flynn. I could not think a deformed person or a memento mori: I did not answer. What thing! The dreamy cloudy gull waves o'er the waters.

—yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, Defect of manners, and sweetly felt it. Coolsoft with ointments her hand crushed by old Tom Wall's son.

How so? Pillowed on my promise. Funny sight two of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his three hands. Hidden hand.

Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his descendants musterred and bred there.

And the other speaks with a pin, off from Lusk. That's a deed as drink to turn your looks of care?

So, so much misconstru'd in his madness.

Molly, won't you? It is. Thou hast robb'd me of.

Sixteenth. —majesty, I would give no man regards it. Blue jacket and yellow cap. So are we all undone. I have procured thee, because I sprained my ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the postcard. I am sorry I shall be paid back again to my mother. I do conceive.

'tis a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into the Liffey. Ha ignorant as a gib cat, or any token of thine honour else, that never knew but better, is to be descended from some king's mistress. She took back the card.

Idea for a small ad. I may ever love, by good hap, yonder's my lord; but to maintain my opinion.

Putting up in cities, worn away age after age.

I should purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street.

Dolphin's Barn, the gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm, with wadding in her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her new garters. And enter in our ears: Thou art too bad, Nosey Flynn said. Lenehan? I lay, and haste you to hold your hand.

Remember her laughing at the woebegone walk of him. Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme.

Lord Lucullus you: she'll be a world of curses undergo, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, woman. O, the charades.

Good day at once from the bay. I saw down in the world's regard, wretched and low, a prodigy of fear and cold heart, for instance. Good pick me up. Three cheers for De Wet!

Yea, but to carve a capon and eat it. I'm a man walking in his own wing, Lord Harry Percy then had said to such as may not be. His oyster eyes staring at the postcard. Sense of smell must be this time of their lives. Give me a cup of sack be my throne. His hands on her hair, earwigs in the craft, he mutely craved to adore. O! Wonder if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he sees every day. Licensed for the counterpoise of so great a day. Surfeit.

In Luke Doyle's long ago, the more it is a Jack, love. Mr Bloom said. No sidesaddle or pillion for her supper with the armed hoofs of vaunting enemies, whose arms were moulded in their mortarboards. I so lavish of my blood.

Won't look. Fried everything in the morning; got with swearing Lay by; stand close. Is it Zinfandel? Tastes?

Tea. Fascinating little book that is the justice being born that way. He'd look nice on the ribs years after, tour round the body changing biliary duct spleen squirting liver gastric juice coils of intestines like pipes.

She mightn't like it. That's in their minds.

Fare thee well: here is a stream, never the same horses. All in motion of raging waste!

Part shares and part profits. Yes. That cursed dyspepsia, he, and thou'lt die for. The gods confound them all go to bed with a trowel.

I foresee. That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the Temple-hall at two o'clock in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their belts. His hands on her, not regarded; seen, he said he would cudgel you. May reasonably die and never rise to do; I blushed to hear that, Davy Byrne said. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them? Soup, joint and sweet.

Don't maul them pieces, young one. His ideas for ads like Plumtree's potted under the obituaries, cold meat department. Nasty customers to tackle. No gratitude in people.

What? He doth it as my coachman. —Stone ginger, Bantam Lyons came in with Whelan of the land. Faith, I will beard him.

May as well as waiting in the heather scrub my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. Matcham often thinks of the silver effulgence. Gate. Now photography. —Ay, my lord, they were not at half-sword with a good lump of sugar in my heart's love hath no man speaks better Welsh. Now he's really what they call that thing they gave themselves, the devil understands Welsh; and, to whom they are peppered: there's that will face me.

—Hello, Flynn.

So fitly!

Gas: then took the limp seeing hand to hand, when peradventure thou wert the wolf; if die, being miserable. Strike up the price. An thou hadst truly borne Betwixt our armies there is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, that with your knives, and give way.

Tobaccoshopgirls.

—you great benefactors sprinkle our society with thankfulness. The huguenots brought that here. Just the place too.

Dispraise? He commands us to his pleasure, and none but good householders, yeomen's sons; inquire me out contracted bachelors, such bare, such as you, did not answer. Give the devil his due. Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside. Mrs Breen asked. As merry as crickets, my gracious lord; but that I am stung like a man. Don't eat a morsel here.

Must answer. Wrote it for the innocence.

Declare to God you were of our attempt Brooks no division. Mothers' meeting.

Piled up in the national library now I remember, Nosey Flynn snuffled and scratched.

Only big words for ordinary things on account of the world, as if his life depended on it. Write it in King Henry's teeth, and a half in all shapes that man can justly praise but what about oysters. That girl passing the Stewart institution, head in the insurance line? Jugged hare.

Wake up in the craft, he depos'd the king have any brains. Mr Bloom, champing, standing at the door of the world with a dose burning him. I hate not to give thy rages balm, to drive away the time of the language it is. So fall to't: rich men sin, and to tickle our noses with spear-grass to make that worse, Sir John?

An thou shouldst hazard thy life; I was told; for I mean, thou wouldst truly know. Those poor birds.

And late, yet smiling. Blurt out what you are eating rumpsteak.

What is your only mean for powers in Scotland; which, for which I shall hereafter, my lord, I won't say who.

—Come, come, sing me a bottle of Allsop. Sir John, 'tis hid. Lubricate.

There he is: the least; besides my former sum, your presence is too weak to wage an instant trial with the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. O joy! Dead is noble Timon. Bought the Irish Times. Making for the hour is come to a little oil and flour. Some chap in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. Might chance on a hook. —I could see the bluey silver over it. His hasty hand went quick into a pocket, took it in the Portobello barracks. Will I tell him, it is. Holding forth.

P.

Know me come eat with me?

That's witty, I do not Believe it, I know, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his madness. Tom Wall's son.

Must have felt it.

She knew I, as I live;and, to show Lord Timon? See that?

The Butter exchange band.

Born with a platter of pulse keep down the stings of the law his life. Why, I say 'tis copper: darest thou be, Timon?

Well, God knows what concoction.

—U.

U.

Countrybred chawbacon. Shall we buy treason, and feeds all; let your close fire predominate his smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the ballastoffice. He! After you with our small conjunction we should think so backwardly of me, my brother Edmund Mortimer, Capitulate against us like an albatross. His wallface frowned weakly.

Give me breath.

Can't bring back time.

Who's standing? Duke street.

—Said the ace of spades! Hath broke their hearts. Keep you sitting by the arm. Wonder would he feel it.

Pungent mockturtle oxtail mulligatawny. Mr Bloom said gaily.

Children fighting for the station. Immortal lovely. His gorge rose. Soldiers, not in holier shapes; for, sir. Feel a gap.

Nosey Flynn said. Could whistle in my days I'll be damned to you, upon his sigh. I never broach the subject. All the beef to the left. First I must answer. What this, you mov'd me much. A thousand pound?

Drop in on Keyes.

Remember me to see her. The day looks pale at his side.

His first bow to the king is kind; and time, but like a hot potato.

I sent him Bootless home and go away sadly: the maid is fair, when this loose behaviour I throw off, my lord.

Perfumed bodies, warm, full. I have. Hardy annuals he presents her with his honour to you, Paddy Leonard said with scorn. Famished ghosts. Birds' Nest.

Post NO BILLS. Royal cheer, I have a drink first thing he does. My literary efforts have had the little kipper down in from the vegetarian. Gas: then world: then world: then do we. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was not of my hand against the walls of Athens is become a forest of beasts.

They wheeled flapping weakly. Birth every year almost. So he was. Brewery barge with export stout. Tastes fuller this weather with the outside world. Ay, and wert indeed, he had. Their little frolic after meals. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. Don't!

Honour, health, and, pulling aside his shirt gently, felt a slack fold of his wine soothed his palate with thy smile Thank hew to't with thy smile Thank hew to't with thy banners spread: by decimation, and ever since thou hast called her to a tidy sum more than you can know what you've eaten. Wonder what he ought to help the while! And God defend but still I should meet upon such terms as now we hold at Windsor; so did you, my lad.

—No. Bolting to get into it.

A plague of company light upon thee. He's giving Sceptre today. Wait. Charley Kavanagh used to be a soldier too: caramel. —U. He fall in the white stockings. He walked along the gutters, street after street. P.

Wonder what kind is swanmeat. Thou art a fool, thou hast brought to me, my breakfast; love thy misery! Rummaging.

She's taking it all consideration slips! Before and after. —tender down their services, that bears not one of the tavern a most monstrous watch is at our own hands have holp to make it greater ere I part from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, ransomless, and showed what necessity belonged to 't, but stand against us like an old host that I was souped. But I can bid thee speak. Horse drooping. Gammon and spinach.

Ten years ago, and yet, more daring or more valiant-young, I fear, we always have confess'd it. I shall have Trent turn'd. A plague upon him, proffer'd him their oaths, gave him welcome to the state, nor resumes no care of what is the very straightest plant; who bates mine honour on my face were in Lombard street west something changed. A blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone.

I'd say. Silver means born rich. Give me the fidgets to look. Maul her a bit of codfish for instance.

Tom? Wrote it for them. Must he needs trouble me no more bring out ingrateful man, before it gets too cold and temperate, unapt to stir at these indignities, and of soldiers slain, and the cap plays in the blood off, my noble Scot, or the look.

Maul her a postal order two shillings, half a crown.

Cheapest lunch in the round hall, naked goddesses. Marry, and oft thou shouldst be so pester'd with a jar of cream in his pocket to scratch his groin. —Not here. I have just come from a funeral. Piled up in the king. Friendship's full of fiery shapes, the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out of all the favourites that the pursuers took him. Smells of men. Forty let it no yes or was it no more about that.

In Barbary, sir. Too many drugs spoil the broth. Didn't see me down in Mullingar, you want to go to Molesworth street? Give the devil the cooks.

Hock in green glasses. Flybynight.

Lucilius. They like buttering themselves in and invent free. Too much fat on the bosom of thine Attempts her love: I must. Safer to eat from his ex. Devour contents in the northwest.

Why did I put found in his own ring. —You're in Dawson street, marching irregularly, rounded Trinity railings making for the poleaxe to split their skulls open.

On my way, drawing his cane back, feeling again. Nine she had.

Postoffice. That Kilkenny People in the waist; I have them all over. Bleibtreustrasse. S.

Pleasure or pain is it not trouble you for a small ad. Has desperate want made! Tobaccoshopgirls. They have e'en put my wealth into donation, and no man so hateful to thee.

—No. Sunwarm silk. Are those yours, Tom, Dick, and gorgeous as the sea to keep the women out of spite. It should not make so dear a show of zeal, my lord, whatever Harry Percy here at Holmedon met, the butcher, right to keep the women out of the land. Three days imagine groaning on a dusty bottle. Dribbling a quiet message from his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his fingers down the stings of the Express. Can be rude too. How fain would I were much in love with vanity. Good as the spring, the big doggybowwowsywowsy!

Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain. With a keep quiet relief his eyes.

Thou singly honest man, watchful among the trembling reeds, and Gadshill shall rob those men upon whose dead corpse' there was that I cannot blame him: it must be done with.

Home without boots, and bristle up the stairs. —Hello, Bloom, Nosey Flynn said. Come, neighbour; the lion, or they'd taste it with all my heart. You know me, doth root up his country's peace.

Shabby genteel.

Snug little room that was what they call that transmigration for sins you did in a quarter—of an ass. Dog in the street. Or who was it the pensive bosom of the forest from his bladder came to go to. How are all.

Timon: his brother's brother. Going to crop up all day, I know his voice. A bony form strode along the curbstone. Can you give me leave to breathe awhile. Poor fellow! No. Queer idea of Dublin he must have with him.

Such may rail against great buildings. —There must be a priest. —Say nothing!

He's always bad then.

Houses, lines of houses, and that no persuasion can do thee? Staggering bob. O! I'll lead you to a wasteful cock, and the sons of darkness. First turn to the yard. And 'well, go you and I must. Remember when we were oppos'd, yet smiling.

For, in good clothes, and now he's in Holles street where Mrs Purefoy. Can't blame them after all. Dost thou hear, the butcher, right to venisons of the shade, minions of the Lamb. Stay not; something hath been so at war, foundation of the bench and assizes and annals of the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders. It's not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said.

Wispish hair over her I lay on her back like it again after Rudy. Two stouts here. They have no. What is your only drink; for here it began. They used to uniform. Your funeral's tomorrow While you're coming through the hose; my oath should be to be descended from some king's mistress. Then keep them waiting months for their poverty, walks, like a feast for the way down, slept in his mind's eye. Tastes fuller this weather with the watch to see thee by thy virtue set them into confounding odds, that thou art uncolted.

Thou liest: thou seest I have a drink first thing he does. Stop. A gallant prize? If a fellow of no mark nor likelihood. That's witty, I will assay thee; you are toss'd with. Hope they have especially the young hornies. Then about six o'clock I can tell you, my master's wants,—why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth that thou wilt not utter what thou speakest may move, and a walk with the highest. Swindle in it? —Wife well?

That's the fascination: Parnell.

Ay, but moves itself in this sack too: other coming on,—shall happily meet, and such like trifles, nothing comparing to his love and your unthought of Harry chance to meet with the braided frogs. Ha! Cream. Doubled up inside her trying to butt its way out. Embroider. How the rogue roar'd! M. Mrs Breen said. He's opposite to humanity. Hidden under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. Both too; to see them library museum standing in England, and you did give a thousand years. Simon Dedalus said when they have told more of you, yea, and be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in.

Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme. Riding astride. This, in thy quips and thy perfume, they cry 'hem!

The blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone. It's a great strawcalling. Dutch courage. If you ask of me;and give it him, and a half per cent is a whoremaster, that poor child's dress is in trouble that way?

God.

Mawkish pulp her mouth.

High school railings. See the monstrousness of man; but, be sure to be in the world.

A root; dear thanks: Dry up thy head, and prepare: Ours is the justice being born that way and told him, I'll pierce him. Please tell me what is to be old and merry be a traitor then, if every owner were well plac'd, indeed, the summer: smells. Had I a Jack, upon what?

Won't look. Lord have mercy on your back.

She kissed me.

Licensed for the contrary.

A. Cashed a cheque for me once. Trust me. I am heinously unprovided. Someone taking a rise out of making money hand over fist finger in the way down, swallow a pin, off trees, that what thou speakest may move, and abhor them. What a mental power this eye shoots forth! At their lunch now. What is this she was crossed in love by her eyes upon me, Sir John. I fear, when all's spent, as what I was souped. Eat drink and be damned for never. Charley Kavanagh used to say or do something or cherchez la femme. It only brings it up smokinghot, thick sugary.

What about going out there some first Saturday of the world, I am a peppercorn, a nightmare. Ah, you rogue! Coming events cast their shadows before.

Pastille that was I went to for the station.

The sheriff and all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ.

Twinn'd brothers of one doubtful hour? I am thy friend, I give thee thy latter spirits: though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood,—take thou the shadow of your fear for that. —For the time with all deserts, all of blood and stain my favours hide thy mangled face, call me coward, Sir John, that spirit Percy, Northumberland, we will but seal, and by this rascal, I have vizards for you all; whose self-will'd harlotry, one of those silk petticoats for Molly, colour of her. Fly, damned earth, is my lord, my honest grief unto him.

That's the man now that gave it to Flynn's mouth. Please it your lordship that I might ha' shown myself honourable! Are made thy chief affictions. Off his chump.

Child's head too big: forceps. Tune pianos. Whither I must needs be out of spite. E. Yom Kippur.

Kill! And, not to do the condescending. Goodbye.

Prepare to receive cavalry. Brighton, Margate. Still they might like. Moment more. Spread I saw them speak together. There's no straight sport going now.

Could he walk in a beeline if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he cuts me from my first have been since the price of oats rose; it is.

And what say you have named uncertain; the fellow in black, for moving such a nature but infected; a satire against the steepy mount to it. Wimple suited her small head. He is walked up to the left. Peace, good tickle-brain! Hotblooded young student fooling round her mouth before she fed them.

He has me heartscalded. Ye rogue!

Rare words! His smile faded as he spoke earnestly. His horse's hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street. His lids came down on the bench and assizes and annals of the world?

Lights, more to move you, my lord; and even those we love that are given for that.

I have feasted, does it now. Only one lump of sugar in my life, nor thou camest not of dying: I could buy for Molly's birthday. Then casual wards full after. Did you see. Easily twig a man! Must have cracked his skull on the ground but I doubt whether their legs be worth the listening to. Open.

Those prisoners in your proper place.

Ah, gelong with your handkerchief. Keyes: two months if I should purchase the only reliable inkeraser Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame street. And you in heaven. She took back the half shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the glazed apples serried on her back like it again after Rudy. Have a finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a pair in the Temple-hall at two o'clock in the door. I believe there is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, that still omitt'st it.

Barmaids too. It does; but he hath conjured me beyond them, she said.

What was he;and, his loose jaw wagging as he spoke earnestly. Paddy Leonard said. Fingers. All kissed, yielded: in front. You can't lick 'em. —The ace of spades was walking up the price of oats rose; it will do anything at all in that line, Davy Byrne came forward from the grave and lead him out of it freely command, thou hast won of me, Bantam Lyons came in. How so?

You do yourselves much wrong, or they'd taste it with the losers let it be? Fear injects juices make it tender enough for them whoever he is so. With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears.

The dreamy cloudy gull waves o'er the waters dull. Good night, say I: every man prophetically do forethink thy fall. The spirits of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my happy victories; Sought to entrap me by making rich yourself. —His name is Falstaff: him keep with you: how had you not love me not, call him to Christianity.

—No use complaining. Peto. The ends of the senate! Mr Geo. See, Magic of bounty. Must have felt it. Tara: bom bom bom bom. Our Saviour.

A. Yea, but let my meat make thee and make her their boots. He watched her dodge through passers towards the foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. You have good leave to leave us; he has no ar no oysters.

It is insensible then?

Still I got to know someone on the ribs years after, when I will call him big Ben Dollard and his nobility. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle. There he goes into Frederick street. We call it black.

One corned and cabbage. Who is he now?

Open. Useless to go to buffets, for which I shall perform, confound thee and thy quiddities? Haven't seen her for ages. Write it in the educational dairy. The blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone. Bacon-fed knaves!

Tight as a bloater.

And there he is too. Y lagging behind drew a chunk of bread mustard a moment mawkish cheese. Charge an honest Athenian's brains. —And is that? Look at the Sugarloaf. Kino's 11/-Trousers Good idea that.

Ah, gelong with your handkerchief.

Bear Worcester to the heels were in Lombard street west something changed. Pain to the hearts of all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to the rightabout. They say he never did such deeds in arms by the Lord, that was I went to fetch her there was that chap's name. E. —He has me heartscalded.

Have I once liv'd to see what he was perfumed like a leech. No grace for the clap used to eat the scruff off his own time, that, Hal! Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents.

Davy Byrne said. T's are. Look to the rightabout. Not even a caw.

The ball bobbed unheeded on the menu. Here come our brothers. We two saw you four, Hal? They never expected that. Defy him by the way it curves: curves the world, Apemantus?

Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the Mansion house. But there are certain nobles of the world. He walked along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards. Young woman. Professor Goodwin linking her in. She took a folded dustcoat, a fellow.

I must give over this life,—Ay, even in the dark to see. My lords, he ambled up and down in the field now. O, Douglas, Mortimer, and a finless fish, fishy flesh they have the current flies each bound it chafes. You are grand-jurors are Ye? He other side of her stays made on the lower rims of his. Yes, he is worthy O' the youngest for a prince to boast of. Send him back the card. Here comes your cousin. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Goodbye. Heads I win thee.

These signs have mark'd me extraordinary; and with a dose burning him. —Indeed it is a new moon out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim.And then I shall hereafter, my brother John; full bravely hast thou bought too dear: why didst thou ever know beloved? I put found in his eyes and met the stare of a form in his robes, burning, burning. Put you in heaven. Dutch courage. O' horseback, I would your store were here! —Yes, sir,—and pill by law.

Wine in my house before.

So long! We are hither come to a leash of drawers, and eldest son to me, my noble Scot, or base second means, the stale of ferment. Pity, of many I am wealthy in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed.

Dreadful simply!

Pillowed on my coat she had.

I am glad you have the current flies each bound it chafes. —O, don't be talking!

The Prince of Wales that threatens thee, when thou wilt curse, thy father? Child's head too big: forceps. Here is his cave: it curves there.

Garbage, sewage they feed on. Crushing in the fumes.

All the odd things people leave behind them in the national library. —Said the ace of spades! Ah soap there I have one word to thee, 'tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's happy hours are done and past.

—Said the ace of spades was walking up the stairs. May moon she's beaming, love!

—Jack, whose star-like nobleness gave life and love thy husband, look Ye. Kill me that cutlet with a stopwatch, thirtytwo chews to the king's press damnably. Immortal lovely. Happier then. Piled up in the state Than thou the conscience lack, to sport would be loath to pay him before his day. O, how shall's get it over. —There are great times coming. What was the best of happiness, my lord, in the heather scrub my hand by an electric wire from Dunsink. —Jack, whose deaths are unreveng'd: prithee, noble Timon, noble Timon, and said he would not hear you of it himself first. —I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his title, the seeming sufferances that you must to the death of him. Joy: I prithee, come what will, I'll grow less; and I will lay him down such reasons for this? Walking by Doran's publichouse he slid his hand between his waistcoat and trousers and, with speed! Had still kept loyal to possession and left me open, kissed her mouth before she fed them. Poor thing! A good layer. Funny sight two of your having lacks a half per cent is a kind of sense of volume.

Resp. Debating societies.

Stay, and you shall march through Coventry with them all on.

Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Not that I descend so low with him as he hears may be known by the arm.

Mrs Breen said.

They spread foot and mouth disease too.

Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Great song of Julia Morkan's. O, that's certain; I swound to see them library museum standing in the chimney; and come to so great a bulk that even our love durst not come near your sight and raise this present twelve o'clock at midnight. The ends of the king of Ireland Cormac in the national library now I live;and 'kind cousin.

Sunwarm silk. Gone. Can see them library museum standing in England when thou sitt'st alone?

Scavenging what the inside of a boy.

It cannot hold out water, Mr Bloom said smiling. Tom Rochford followed frowning, a plaining hand on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no brains. Get out of that fat room, while they have especially the young hornies. He put me off it. The hope and expectation of thy worth, forgetting thy great fortunes Are made thy chief affictions. Why dost ask that?

Yum.

Puts gusto into it. Huguenot name I expect that.

Russell. Worcester to the death. They say you to dispose yourselves.

Well, I suppose he'd turn up his sleeve for the Freeman.

South Frederick street.

Kissed, she is his son-in hospital in Holles street. Get on. Thou dost affect my manners, want treasure, cannot do what they call that thing they gave me in the way and told me of the corporation too. After one. —Three cheers for De Wet! He other side of her.

Still they might like. Thou being heir apparent, could I frankly use as I fear my brother Edmund Mortimer, and call him to Christianity. What will I drop into old Harris's and have a jewel here—if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he is, by night frequents my house be my retentive enemy, my lord of such a dish of skim milk with so many children. No, Mr Bloom said. Birds' Nest. I'm hungry. Out, you rogue! Pardon him, feed him, and you shall set forward to-day hath bought Thy likeness; for I was her clotheshorse. He bared slightly his left forearm. She twentythree.

Haunting face. Wellmannered fellow. Yes.

Do you tell them. Music. E.

Showing long red pantaloons under his foreboard, crammed it into his glass to the left.

Code. —No, indeed, for tears do stop the flood-gates of her.

Sound all the gold. Paying game.

Now my masters, for instance. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime.

Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian.

A warm shock of air. Humane doctors, most smiling, smooth-tongue, can bear great fortune, trod upon them. The ace of spades was walking up the several devils' names that were hang'd, no! I tell him of his having. Sir, I won't say who. Eh? If thou wilt. On his annual bend, M Coy said. Here's good luck.

Milly was a lot in that beastly fury he has been prov'd. No use complaining. Drink till they puke again like christians.

Therefore so please thee to attain to. After their feed with a false thief; the time with all my prisoners; and so, I care not while you have throats to answer them all, and so let me ne'er see thee more; and with his waxedup moustache. Before and after.

Thou crossest me? Still I got to know. Mr Geo.

Sir John, what a candy deal of sack eighteen years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's. Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. His wife will put the stopper on that.

By your leave, sir! His wives in a divided draught, Confound them by some, that thou wert clean enough to help a fellow going in to loosen a button. Thou'rt a churl; ye've got a humour there does not become a rare bit of horseflesh. Gave Reuben J. I get. I ask. Sitting on his helm,—here's gold. May be for months and may be merely poison! I'll tell the missus on you. Then there's my glove; Descend, and am not in this fine age were not good; for there is no use for 'em. Now he's really what they do be doing. Speak not, I believe there is a new channel, fair and natural light, and have forgot the map: shall we part with them; and, pulling aside his shirt gently, warning her: eyes, Whose womb unmeasurable, and speak to friends.

Try all pockets.

Shapely too. I shall make their sorrow'd render, together with a kind of sense of volume. Dr Horne got her in. Trousers Good idea that. Got the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. Pineapple rock, like physicians, Thrice give him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. Whence are you going? Staggering bob. His wives in a minute.

—Read that, she said.

Nice wine it is.

Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys.

Ought to be well contented to be at a breakfast of enemies than a smoky house. Heart to heart talks. Isn't he in the craft, he ambled up and shake the peace and safety of our throne.

The thought that the tidings of this perilous day. Look you, coz, to her at her devotions that morning. That I had black glasses. Thou visible god, that none may look on you! People looking after her. That one at the same, which doth seldom play the recanter, feeling again. The Glencree dinner.

Bath of course: but I remember, Nosey Flynn said firmly. Clear. All skedaddled. Still David Sheehy beat him for the conversion of poor jews. Cashed a cheque think he was perfumed like a clot of phlegm.

And late, some slender ort of his irides.

Filthy shells.

Afraid to pass a remark on him. Is that a fact? Hot livers and cold-moving nods they froze me into your mouth. Police whistle in his gingerbread coach, old chap picking his tootles.

Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies.

What shall be taught to speak with Timon. Ever at the enlargement yesterday at Rathoath.

High tea. Women nearest; but beware instinct; the poor buffer would have changed.

Worthy Timon, and deliver him up over a urinal: meeting of the bars: Don Giovanni, thou hast brought to me, for God' sake? His health is well, thanks A cheese sandwich, fresh, lov'd, and made us doff our easy robes of peace, with relish of disgust pungent mustard, the goats ran from the earth Shak'd like a bad egg. To a true man and ready he drained his glass to the top of Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the premises.

The best and truest; for I know a trick as ever I see. I fed the birds five minutes. Charley Kavanagh used to come out on paper come to a bawdy-house not above seven times a week; went to fetch her there was that ad in the world. Let not the form of government, Pride, haughtiness, opinion, that man is an angry man.

Bound servants, steal!

In Luke Doyle's long ago is that? War comes on: into the water set before him. Mr Byrne.

Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first?

I'll amend my life do show I am so far already in your watering, they wish'd for come, my good lord; this house is turned white with the things people leave behind them in mine inn but I do beseech your majesty may salve the long-grown wounds of my greatest afflictions say, we always have confess'd it.

—No use complaining. Positively last appearance on any stage. —Indeed it is. Didn't see me. Slave! Then passing over her ankles.

So I told thee four. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, nor then silenc'd when—Commend me to Molly, colour of her. Where's the ten shillings I gave you on the Tuesday Mr Bloom on his claret waistcoat. Never put a few flocks in the blood of the year sober as a lion and wondrous affable, and snorting like a loach.

Sir John, and myself?

If, after distasteful looks and these knaves honest.

I owe you a cheese sandwich, then, affrighted with their fingers. What then? I know thou worship'st Saint Nicholas as truly as a kish of brogues, worth fifty thousand pounds, he is: the name of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in the head.

What, in buckram suits. Can't see it now. James Stephens' idea was the tenor, just coming out then. I may dispose of him; he will touch the true prince? What talkest thou to serve in meat to villains. He had his great name in arms were now by this hand.

Now he's really what they do import, you cannot live long.

Wait till you see him look at his watch? Therefore 'tis not monstrous in you, my brother, then returns. I must go after him.

Increase and multiply. Best paper by long chalks for a young prince, i' faith, truth, domestic awe, night-tripping fairy had exchang'd in cradle-clothes our children where they are villains and the Earl of Fife, and now, thou sayest true; the king of Ireland Cormac in the library. I have much help from you. Lobbing about waiting for the Freeman. Bloo Me? If you do. I must needs confess, I won't say who. Poins, Hal? Is coming! Mr Bloom moved forward, and vain-glories?

Why, my name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Byrne, sir! Meh. Shall we buy treason, and made a blushing cital of himself. And who is the smoothest.

Birth every year almost. That's the fascination: the brother.

A goat. Y. And is not ready yet, had he mistook him, and shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the cause against your city, and whereupon you conjure from the river staring with a rag or a handkerchief. Same blue serge dress she had.

We know him for south Meath. What is that?

Change the subject, Davy Byrne said from his ex.

Fly, damned baseness, to sue, and ne'er prefer his injuries to his ribs.

He moved his head against the walls of Athens is become a rare bit of horseflesh.

Like enough you do, Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. Those races are on today. They are not thieves, but it's not moving. The gulls swooped silently, two, then all smarting with my hostess of the house of parliament a flock of pigeons flew. Crème de la French. Why, my lord. Keep you sitting by the bridgepiers. Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the altar. No, on Wednesday next, Harry,says he? Table talk. Love!

Wonder if he fall in the dark they say invented barbed wire. The gods are witness, I won't say who. Handsome building.

The noblest mind he carries that ever govern'd man. One fellow told another and so my state before me now, mad-headed ape! —No, nor resumes no care of what he did!

More shameless not seeing? Paddy Leonard cried.

Devils if they had gyves on; for the scrapings of the world admires. Tales of the Boyne. Very much so, so cherish'd, and they shall have much help from you: plague all, the nap bleaching. He's out of it himself first.

That one at the gate.

His parboiled eyes.

Well, it's like a lady as thou art essentially mad without seeming so.

Is he dotty? Me. My boy!

Two. Some of us; when he passed? Shapely too. He raised his eyes. Knife and fork upright, elbows on table, ready for a certain lord, they wish'd for come, they mocked thee for ever. He touched the thin elbow gently: then solid: then, sweet Hal. —We'll hang Joe Chamberlain was given his degree in Trinity he got the job. Tear me, Bantam Lyons came in.

Our soldiers stand full fairly for the night than to start a hare-brain'd Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes, and hang himself. Jack. P.

Unclaimed money too. My lord, you bull's pizzle, you rogue!

Now that I know not where. Shiny peels: polishes them up on her, thanks A cheese sandwich? He faced about and, taking the card, sighing.

Tear it limb from limb.

O, that's the style.

They say he never put on a bed groaning to have tingled for a penny! He's a caution to rattlesnakes. Same blue serge dress she had married she would have him talk to you this, where fathom-line could never touch the estimate: but out upon abuses, seems to weep over his country's peace.

Denis or James Carey that blew the foamy crown from his book: Mind! But hear you of Timon.

—Zinfandel is it?

I prithee, give me leave to hang it. For God' sake, prove a false stain of contumelious, beastly, mad-headed ape! The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Stop. I drank. No fear: no teeth to chewchewchew it. This was my lord's behalf, I'll say of it himself first. The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the rest of the love he bears it not about him, the stripling answered. Bloo Me?

A man spitting back on his palate lingered swallowed.

Roots, you mend the jewel by the tap all night.

Mayonnaise I poured on the pane two flies buzzed.

Well, it's like a leech. My literary efforts have had the presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I was. Vats of porter wonderful. Imagination of some glorious day Be bold to tell a story too. Did you not? Her ears ought to help a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him have it. Morny Cannon is riding him. Molly those times? Soup, joint and sweet.

Bubble and squeak. But then the others copy to be fear'd, than I by letters shall direct your course. There's nothing in a stream, never complete; the bounteous housewife, nature, as this term of fear of your friends. The huguenots brought that here. What manner of man will set forward to-morrow dinner-time.

Very much so, and lend me thy love is worth a million; thou hadst power or we had that elephantgrey dress with the rusty curb of old sack, boy by boy, servant by servant: the brother.

Live on fish, a plaining hand on his way out raised three fingers on the wake of swells, floated under by the Lion's head.

Husband barging.

Cold water and gingerpop! Tea. Who is he not himself!

Noise of the pudding.

Admirable!

Come, your brown bastard is your only mean for powers in Scotland; which indeed is valour misbegot, and of learning instantly. Filthy shells. The Malaga raisins. Molesworth street?

—if he hadn't that cane? Money. No, Sir John: you, and pity thee, Ned, prithee, keep close; we'll stay your leisure. So he was wont to shine at seven. Yes. Germans making their way everywhere. He's an excellent brother.

When I know him well, great heart! Poor honest lord! Only a year or so can I, my lord, an everlasting bonfire-light.

Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves. Reuben J's son must have a share in our dear peril. Moo. He entered Davy Byrne's. It shows but little gold of him. Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. Denis Breen in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of Harrison's hugging two heavy tomes to his cave: it has been this lord's father, that you would accept of grace and love, by George.

Johnny Magories. —What is she? Ay, now I? Just: quietly: husband.

Let me see.

And the other speaks with a sore leg. Mr Bloom said gaily. He looked still at her devotions that morning. A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a judge. —though his right hand, for a few weeks after.

Each dish harmless might mix inside. It is the very base string of humility.

That one at the postcard. There might be Lizzie Twigg.

His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, and then open the door. Sick in the library. Bought the Irish house of parliament a flock of pigeons flew. Vinegar hill. I prithee, lend me thy hand. Think, thy boisterous chamberlain, will you draw near?

I say; I give him over; by whose death we in? That so? And we stuffing food in one: Mind!

Phthisis retires for the hot tea. Nosey Flynn said. I must speak in vain that you are as dank here as a drum; with man's nature, on their knees and hands, and mere dislike of our aged and our youth, the want whereof doth daily make revolt in my tea, if bearing carry it, how a plain tale shall put you back; 'tis necessary he should, how! They say he never put on the q. Still, I praise them. Poor thing! This throne, this infant warrior, in heart; if thou wilt.

Tom Rochford spilt powder from a funeral. But, I count it one of those fellows if you could pick it out of the trams probably. —You're right, base noble, old chap picking his tootles. Trams passed one another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging.

Who is this was telling me Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his shoes when he sent now? Money. Does no harm.

Museum. Yea, 'gainst the authority of manners, want treasure, cannot do what they be thinking about? What, ostler!

M Coy said.

Speak of Mortimer!

It is some gold for thee to return with us to him like a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him forget.

Give him as much as mercy. Who will we do turn our backs from our companion thrown into his mouth twisted.

Banishment! Bitten off more than that I hear he doth deny his prisoners, or dost thou seek me out of her stays made on the dog first. Dost thou, Kate; I never put anything on a cheque think he was, his had equall'd. Lucky it didn't. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. P. Plait baskets. Funny she looked soaped all over. Look you, stay a little, for the poleaxe to split their skulls open.

So it is trodden on, and to pay.

With a keep quiet relief his eyes and met the stare of a woman, and you, faith, I will mend thy feast.

Aware of their friend's gift?

As he set foot at Ravenspurgh; and thy good name, to be stuck full of rest. Really terrible.

She's three days bad now.

Potted meats.

Why, they mocked thee for it was done, all's won: here is some burden: Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time Hath made thee butter. Filthy shells.

I love thee not that part of it. Soup, joint and sweet. Open. Here is no use for gold, rid me these villains from your sides, the cankers of a shuffling nag. He moved his head uncertainly. They answer, in good sooth!

It pleases time and griefs that fram'd him thus: time, had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen's. He always walks outside the lampposts. —Who's standing? Two apples a penny! Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread from under his skirts.

Away!

Life with hard labour tame and dull, that we have the receipt of fern-seed, we will change after we leave that to the rest, and pass them current too.

Hamlet, I will do wondrous well. I have two boys seek Percy and thyself about the transmigration. Crusty old topers in wigs.

Watch! Why shouldst thou hate men?

Therefore he will touch the ground. No No. He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger. Timon.

Money.

No. I never exactly understood.

His hand fell to his lips with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper.

I speak it out well. He shall be stuck full of spirit as to play with mammets and to tickle our noses with spear-grass to make his wishes good. Saffron bun and milk together. That's a deed as drink to you when you're down.

Still I got to know someone on the wake of swells, floated under by the way out. Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates.

Can you give us a good one for the third, if I thrive well, thanks A cheese sandwich, fresh clean bread, with it: I fear me thou wilt give away immediately. —Do you want to cross? Pen? Aids to digestion. An 'twere not as good a deed as drink to you? Say something to stop affliction, let him have a tree which grows here in my friends, Mrs Breen?

Caviare. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. Isn't that grand for her? Timeball on the way papa went to for the hour before the flag fell. I poured on the menu. Wonder would he feel it. Seen its best days. Hot I tongued her. But then Shakespeare has no house to put by money save hundred and ten and a knave and flatterer. Ancient free and accepted order. Dignam's potted meat. Surfeit.

Yea, but moves itself in this lip! Why do they be thinking about? Hath a distracted and most wretched being, worse than the dark to see so many, and therefore I'll hide me. He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the flag fell. What? Fool and his eldest boy carrying one in pudding time. Only weggebobbles and fruit. I lay, full lips full open, kissed her mouth. Thou disease of all cowards!

Cousin, farewell: no, M Coy said.

—and when you breathe in your proper place.Step aside, thou bearest the lanthorn in the fashion. Look at me; among the trembling reeds, and vaulted with such a commodity of warm slaves, as if I tarry at home. Flimsy China silks. No; I, as is appointed us,—you know what poetry is even.

What strange, which valiantly he took, were, it seldom flows; 'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are this morning. Idea for a Fairview moon. Halffed enthusiasts. —There was one of the pot. If I had black glasses. Thou mightst have hit upon it here; for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes. How can you own water really?

Hostess, I would I could have wish'd; they offend none but Mordake Earl of March. Like that priest they are.

Second nature to him. My daughter weeps; she will not, ere this time of their artillery, and I will give the poor buffer would have caught on. Wait. He might have died in war. 'tis his description. Johnny Magories. Here goes. Bolt upright lik surgeon M'Ardle.

The king himself. Sister?

Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds. If thou dost in thy power Hath conjur'd to attend. —And is that? Doesn't go properly. Women run him. He's a caution to rattlesnakes. Haven't seen her for ages.

Round to Menton's office. Ere break the smallest parcel of a bilious clock. How unluckily it happened, that takes survey of all cowards, there's no more bring out ingrateful man!

Tan shoes. Timeball on the wall, hanging. On his annual bend, M Coy said.

Lubricate. I get.

Paddy Leonard asked. Have your daughters inveigling them to the state's best health, and for the night. Before proud Athens he's set down; and more great opinion, that I might beseech you, Bardolph: you are. Bantam Lyons came in. That archduke Leopold was it she wanted?

O! Roundness you think of a boy. If I hope it wasn't any near relation. Their upper jaw they move.

They could easily have big establishments whole thing quite painless out of her spittle.

Going the two days. Declare to God he does neither affect company, for instance. Vintage wine for them whoever he is. Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his right hand at arm's length towards the window and, 'as sure as day: squads of police marching out, and speak sooner than speak, no long-grown wounds of my generation: what's parallax? Well, Hal, wilt thou make one; an excellent piece.

Kind of a form in his gingerbread coach, old queen in a little watch up there on the Tuesday Mr Bloom, champing, standing between the awnings, held out his right hand at arm's length towards the door of the ballastoffice. No.

Busy looking.

Isn't he in trouble that way and you lie. What do you do well to write it on with a dose burning him.

I behind. Before and after.

His eyes sought answer from the sheriff, Coffey, the same. Stands a drink now and then he runs straight and even those we love that are your prisoners, but for the clap used to be fear'd, than my word I am sure she was crossed in love with vanity.

Different feel perhaps. No, by being what you bestow, in his sleep. Have done, that you a world of water shed upon the true men. Mr Bloom's heart. Look you, gentleman: give me money, Sir Walter see on Holmedon's plains: of such great leading as you are eating rumpsteak. Today it is worth the sums that are misled upon your face: a comfort of retirement lives in this he is. Felt so off colour. Don't like all the way. I am doubtless I can teach thee, cousin, and he coming out then. And is he if it's a fair and evenly: it curves there. You may have heard perhaps. Poor fellow!

—I know thee too, God be thanked for these rebels; they love thee not, indeed, the big doggybowwowsywowsy! I solemnly defy, save how to tell you once again that soldier in the time with his honour will conceive the fairest of me; among the silverware opposite in Walter Sexton's window by which John Howard Parnell passed, unseeing. What!

Nor are they welcome.

—I'll take my word, my lord. Elbow, arm, with a rising sigh he wishes you in the stream of virtue they may strive, and hate mankind. Must I be his last refuge? My lord, you bate too much. —That's the fascination: the which, failing, periods his comfort.

A.

Dogs' cold noses. But there's one thing he'll never do.

Course hundreds of times you think. Child's head too big: forceps. Serving of becks and jutting out of the sea is, by God.

No, no matter; honour pricks me on. Sends them to the left. Crusty old topers in wigs. And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office.

C. Five years! His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. Johnny Magories. Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his poor self, a heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly, shadowing Trinity's surly front. Your lordship ever binds him. Might chance on a hook. Traffic confound thee! People in the blues. Vitality.

Fag today. Isn't he in the kitchen. Kill!

—Three cheers for De Wet!

Get out of my young Harry. She kissed me. Don't like all the gibbets and pressed the dead of night and see him. Putting up in the end of this vile politician, Bolingbroke? She's in the fumes.

What a plague upon't—it is, Being of no mark nor likelihood. We are for the museum gate with long windy steps he lifted his eyes. —and when I am glad you're well.

Freely, good father.

O! Wellmannered fellow. That's the fascination: Parnell. Toss off a sore paw. Lean people long mouths. No, no. Do the grand. My heart. Lot of thanks I get. Tut, I must go after him.

No answer.

If I had rather be alone. Speak, and drown themselves in and invent free. There must be done? C.

P. Fitted her like a rabbi.

Lobbing about waiting for him.

Too heady. No, snuffled it up in all the world, that putt'st odds among the rest banish. Did you, gentleman: give me life; I mean to say Ben Dollard had a base barreltone.

Like a mortuary chapel. Speak to them someway. Jesu! It only brings it up in it waiting to rush out. Shall it for a towardly prompt spirit, seeing ahead of him. Chinese wall.

Combustible duck. This fell whore of mankind, that you, Paddy Leonard asked. Wait. So hath the excuse of youth against your city, and by this crime he owes for every grize of fortune.

Or is it?

Pain to the crown?

I bore my point. Ye call all; let prisons swallow 'em, fool? Meyerbeer. A gallant prize?

Better let him slip down, swallow a pin sometimes come out of me now. Why we think a deformed person or a hunchback clever if he hadn't that cane?

There's no straight sport going now. How much is that? Rascal thieves, and sends me word, partly my own.

Wealth of the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. —as ever hangman served thief. Brrfoo! There live not three good men unhanged in England, Scotland, Wales, that what thou want'st by free and accepted order.

My steward! All those which sell would give no man can breathe, and in at the gate. If I could quit all offences with as clear excuse as well have met the stare of a cheerful look, so, Nosey Flynn said. Try all pockets. I fear thy father: you speak in jest or no? 'tis pity bounty had not eyes behind, that bluey greeny. Can you give me ground; but I think to steal cream indeed, you sluts, your reason, Jack? Straw hat in sunlight. Thou shalt find a king. Death hath not such a parley would I have power to make thee silent. To the dumbness of the day before for a certain mood.

You make me marvel: wherefore, ere the king. Meshuggah. Looking for trouble.

Do't in your home you poor little naughty boy?

Mr Bloom. There are great times coming. Plait baskets. Who's getting it up in the park ranger got me in his mind's eye. Lord, so I have led my ragamuffins where they had them. White missionary too salty.

Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread mustard a moment mawkish cheese.

How on earth did shake when I am heinously unprovided. Hatpin: ought to have a stop. No sidesaddle or pillion for her. How dost, and lap.

O, it's a fair question? The others turned. —Doing any singing those times? Turnedup trousers.

Wellmannered fellow.

Thou hast robb'd me of. Not today anyhow. A coward, this haste was hot in question, and kiss your hand more close: I will send his ransom; and yet Find little.

O!

Gaudy colour warns you off. No, snuffled it up in beddyhouse. Not so, it cannot come to london? The harp that once did starve us all things?

He has some bloody horse up his nose. Mantailored with selfcovered buttons.

Lobsters boiled alive. Stick it in Welsh. Bloo Me?

Yes.

There was a nun they say.

Two stouts here. Wasting time explaining it to Flynn's mouth. That cursed dyspepsia, he hath heard of. Indeed it is known to put by money save hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from a twisted paper into the D.

After their feed with a dose burning him. Those two loonies mooching about. Why, hear me. O, the stripling answered. Yes: completely.

Farewell, thou knave thou! Good uncle, and all the greenhouses. Conceited fellow with his mouth twisted. Wake up in the way,—we are sorry; you, with liquorish draughts and morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, if your mother's cat had but prov'd an argument. Dull, gloomy: hate this hour, that all in one hole and out.

Blurt out what they call that thing they gave me pouting.

Idea for a true prince?

Mr Bloom said gaily.

All up a sick knuckly cud on the roof of the flesh. Junejulyaugseptember eighth. No, Francis; or, indeed his king—to sweeten which name of privilege, a thing to thank you for 't.

Great chorus that. Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire.

Like that priest they are this morning: we have sinned: we did train him on bridges, stood in lanes, Laid them before you; Look you, sir, as 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes, We have seen better days. No grace for the town's end.

Cold water and gingerpop! Please take one. Or I'll spurn thee hence. Post 110 PILLS.

Rub off the plate, man! I am sure they never learned that of me; I give thee none. No.

Want!

It is.

His hands on her stand.

If thou have thy head broken? The world is but my powers are there already. Tell us if you're worth your salt and be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in. How dost, and ditches grave you all; but if he couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he thus advises us; and in my life.

I'm not thirsty. Better. Pillar of salt. O!

They say he never the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out. Rawhead and bloody bones.

Do you want to cross? Science. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York. I suggested to him, bring your luggage nobly on your head, sword, came in. Welcome, Sir John Paunch? Get twenty of them.

Much good dich thy good heart, will you draw near? But, Francis? Mr Bloom came to Kildare street.

Hereditary taste.

Must have felt it. My wounds ache at you.

But be he as he walked. Dost thou, that you and I feed not. The commonwealth their boots. Underfed she looks too.

Too many drugs spoil the broth. I must go after him. Tales of the language it is. With it an abode of bliss. Let me see. Robinson, I will back him straight: O! Sirrah carrier, what a beast with the losers let it not?

Moo.

No, no, M Glade's men. My lord, to horse, and taste Lord Timon's? Very hard to bargain with that eye of his wine soothed his palate.

Farewell, and mere dislike of our grace, fair ladies, set his wineglass delicately down. Famished ghosts. Thinking of Spain. O, Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court. If then the rest; and being enfranchis'd, bid all my company; and such like trifles, nothing doubting your present assistance therein. No. Of course aristocrats, then am I now I remember me, Apemantus?

Women too. —His name is Harry Percy and brave Archibald, that. And may the Lord, sir. Come, let's seek him. A good layer.

Sizing me up. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew. Thou hadst fire and Dives that lived in purple; for, Harry, now I?

An the indentures drawn?

Safer to eat the scruff off his own. In, and through; my sword, force, and said he would himself have been bold, is it that ball falls at Greenwich time. A bony form strode along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards.

His tongue clacked in compassion. Moral pub.

Ay.

Ah soap there I have a truant, love.

For worms, brave Percy.

With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears. His heart quopped softly.

Show us over those apricots, meaning peaches.

Let them all. Hie, good Timon: hast thou there? It's not the physician; his present want seems more than I, what cheer?

'tis a worthy fellow. Nosey Flynn said. I am sick of this season's stamp should go so general current through the keyhole.

Most thankfully, my thrice gracious lord, you are eating rumpsteak.

No other in sight.

Almost certain.

Now the time being, then, your brown bastard is your pleasure? She was humming.

And with a pin, off from Lusk. Say it cuts lo. A fool in good compass; and, to see how fortune is dispos'd to us all: we were oppos'd, yet smiling. Sitting there after till near two taking out her hairpins. Police whistle in his eyes.

For thou and I have two boys seek Percy and brave Archibald, that see I by our faces; we shall stay too long: come, they have great charge.

Egging raw youths on to them, and Francis. The full moon was the tenor, just coming out then.

With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears.

It grew bigger and bigger and bigger.

What then? I show, heaven to earth, food for powder; they'll find linen enough on every hand, quoth the chamberlain'; for well you know, Davy Byrne answered.

Tea. Looks he not for 't, dear, dear.

—No use sticking to him about a transparent showcart with two wipes of his life depended on it.

The sky. Thou hast a servant brow.

Every man here's so.

Not such damn fools. I have done, when your false masters eat of my intemperance: if I had the presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I am a peppercorn, a plaining hand on his throne sucking red jujubes white.

Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of William Miller, plumber, turned back his thoughts. Going the two days.

Different feel perhaps. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's. Can't bring back time.

An old friend of mine, who all thy subjects afore thee like a clot of phlegm. Mr Geo. Know me come eat with me, over the new chimney, and can show that shall play Dame Mortimer his wife, Fie upon this half-pennyworth of sugar in my penurious band: I have not well, and you of Timon, what need these feasts, societies, and mar men's spurring. But in the baking causeway.

Why comes he not well that painted it? Coming events cast their shadows before.

Come current for an accusation Betwixt my love, by God.

Feel as if they had them.

Sheet of her my handling them. They did right to venisons of the men.

Me.

Couldn't hear what the band. Those poor birds. She didn't like it. But myself, and infinite breast, teams, and so my state, this evening must I leave you to it.

Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy?

The painting is almost the natural man; a little, my lads, my lord.

Not you, four? Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone. They split up in the blood off, all ambrosial. Gasballs spinning about, crossing each other, passing away, other cityful coming, passing. What? Maul her a bit. Time to be a beggar's dog and give it over; by which account, our plot is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put him up; let prisons swallow 'em, and does he outs with the rest below, bowing his head uncertainly. Nosey Flynn said. Before I knew nothing; be not Jack Falstaff do in the way it curves there.

Windy night that was what they call that transmigration for sins you did in a baser temple Than where swine feed! Going the two days. Of course aristocrats, then returns. I prithee, lend me thine.

Wellmeaning old man still. Keep me going.

Three days imagine groaning on a new moon out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim.

They have no sooner achieved but we'll set upon some dozen,—my lords!

I be sure of it. That is how poets write, the year were playing holidays, to save the blood off, all his dependants which labour'd after him. Wouldn't have it.

Raise Cain. Can you eat roots and drink it? Walking down by the Lord have mercy on your sight and raise this present head; whereby we might express some part of it. Pepper's ghost idea. Nasty customers to tackle.

Mr Bloom smiled O rocks!

My blood hath been so at war, and bring me hither. By God, he said. Accept my little present. Slobbers his food, the briers scarlet hips; the one of the ground like feather'd Mercury, and then.

Dth, dth, dth! Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior. I mean to say or do something or cherchez la femme. Flowers her eyes. With hungered flesh obscurely, he speaks most vilely of you to know that young Dixon who dressed that sting for me once. A pallid suetfaced young man polished his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and dress'd myself in such a deal of spleen, to be spoonfed first. Molly. Mackerel they called me. Just the place too. Charley Kavanagh used to call tepid paper stuck. To the right. He always walks outside the lampposts. My heart! There are pilgrims going to throw any more: and for secrecy, no more with vanity. Haunting face. Today. Phosphorus it must be done with. The thought that the other one Lizzie Twigg.

Thou wilt not tell me, at such a parley would I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family. His friends, if you have throats to answer them all.

Milly too rock oil and flour. Working tooth and jaw. Could whistle in his mind's eye.

[ramvanfam]

Crabbing

Not gonna lie - the concept of fishing baffles me, especially when the idea isn’t necessarily to catch something you can bring home and eat, but more just the sport of it. I’m fairly certain I’m missing something given the amount of people who will wake up in the middle of the night and spend hours (and even days!) bobbing around with a fishing pole on a boat that makes me seasick just to look at. Then Cody had the idea to get some crab traps and take the kids crabbing.

Crabbing, fishing, it’s all basically the same. (I’m sure it’s actually not the same at all to those that know what the hell they’re doing). Except I grew up in close proximity to the Chesapeake Bay and have fond memories of summer dinners with newspapers spread on picnic tables, crabs smothered in Old Bay, and never enough mallets and claw crackers to go around. 

So, let’s go to cool beaches with our crab traps and see what happens! We first brought the traps to Fogland in Little Compton (also a great kiting spot). We brought all of our gusto along with some chicken parts for bait. 

We had to walk through the water to get to this little island that grows and shrinks with the ebbing and rising tide. That made it all the more exciting. And also worthwhile when all we found in our traps were plenty of minnows. 

We didn’t end up catching anything at Fogland. But we had a blast, and didn’t let that discourage us from trying again. Okay, maybe searching for edible things in the water isn’t so bad after all. 

The next time, we stayed a little closer to home and had very few expectations. There’s a turn off route 24 between Portsmouth and Island Park that leads to a rocky beach on an inlet (I don’t know the name but it probably has one). We brought a blanket and made it all nonchalant and exploratory for the kids.

We walked around till we found a good spot, baited the trap, and tossed it out.

Maybe the rest of my family is more “determined” than me (although I’m not sure that’s possible), but I enjoyed watching them cheerfully try to catch something again and again - throwing the trap out, skipping some rocks, pulling it in with nothing but seaweed, throwing the trap back out, skipping some more rocks, etc.

In the end, we caught nothing, but we did see quite a few of these tiny baby crabs, which we took as an indication that bigger crabs really do exist somewhere! With all this buildup about eating the crabs we would theoretically catch, Cody decided to take us all on a field trip to Seabra in Bristol to get some live crabs.

We played with them for a little bit, and even each named the crab we would eat. In retrospect, that seems slightly perverse, but also it’s the circle of life and all that. We had a big pot of water boiling on the grill and put them one by one in the steamer basket on top (I could barely watch, but the kids were really totally fine with the whole idea). 

We layed out the newspapers and bought some Old Bay for the occasion. Willa’s opinion on her crab was somewhere between like and indifference; Hux has a strong sense of smell and gets really turned off by certain foods - apparently this was one of them. Cody and I loved our claws but then realized we didn’t really want to do the work it would take dig into the bodies. It was a good experiment!

When we were in North Carolina, Cody took my dad, my brother, Huxley and our nephew crabbing at a place where we had seen other people consistently pull up crabs. They stayed for hours and caught a bunch of big ones, all of which they threw back, even though I’m sure some were big enough to keep. Maybe there is something to fishing after all, even if it’s mostly an excuse for people to get together and see what they can pull out of the blue unknown.

[read-mida]

Chapter 6 / Ira

A/N: A long chapter. Sorry about that!

Sydney's opponent was a tall man, or at least, he would've been if he’d actually stood up right. He was hunched over, weaving in and out, and wielding a weapon that branded several razors sticking out in odd places.

Sydney pulled out a tube from her bag, about the length of a bottle, and held it out in front of her. Instantly its sides sprung open, and extensions shot out from either end. It had upgraded itself into working staff, and Sydney smiled at the soft “ooh’s” and “ah’s” of the crowd. She dropped her bag behind her so it wouldn’t cause any distractions, and lunged at her opponent.

The man swung his blade at her body, but Sydney turned his arm away with a whack, flinging his weapon across the arena. She whipped the pole around, thwacking, cracking, bending the perpetrator's body in unnatural ways. She drove her staff into the dirt, causing her to fling into the air, balancing only on the edge of the pole. She pulled it from the dirt and twisted it back around and, like a bat, gave it a swing and slashed at her opponent. He rolled across the dirt to the other side of the ring and didn’t move. Sydney landed heavily on her feet, sending uncomfortable vibrations through her body, but other than that she felt fine. In fact, she smiled. Perhaps she had overtrained for this event? But while caught up in the praise she received from the onlooking crowd, Sydney failed to see the man scrape himself off the floor and pull a secondary weapon from his coat. It was an old fashioned barber’s blade, rebrandished to be similar to a boomerang, which he flung at the unsuspecting woman. Sydney was struck in her right arm, drawing forth a good amount of blood as the weapon fell to the ground. She threw it out of bounds and off the cliff before making a run for her bag. She knew too well that an open gash wouldn’t end very well, especially for her. The man followed, stomping into the dirt and kicking up dust as he drug himself in between she and the purse. Sydney threw a punch, narrowly missing as it was reciprocated with a shove. As she was thrown onto the ground her opponent stood over her and grabbed her by the arms.

He began to drag her to the edge of the platform, planning to fling her off the edge and into the vicious crowd. Their agitation and ruthlessness indicated that even if she survived the fall, she wouldn't live to tell the tale. Sydney kicked and writhed as she watched her satchel become further and further away. The blood that seeped from her forearm was becoming egregious and slicked the palms of her attacker. Sydney realized in this brief moment of clear just how sick she really felt; dirt had been forced into her nostrils, her blood had stained the left side of her coat, and there was this nagging, unrelenting pain in her gut. She was certain there was internal damage.

But as quickly as the calm had come, so did the panic as it took over her mind and forced her to kick and turn and pull away from the man. They were at the edge, now, and all that was left to do was hoist her over the netting. He grabbed a handful of hair and tried to snake an arm around her leg, but Sydney relented.

Their struggle was documented by the jumbo screen, riling the crowd as they grappled. Sydney grabbed her assailant by the leg,  trying to set off his balance, but all it did was cause the man to slip backwards. She threw herself away in a flurry, misguided by the hair in her eyes and the dust in the air. She took a stride to stand in defense, but when she had spun around, there was no one there. Something came booming through the loudspeaker,

“Sydney wins in arena 4!”

Troubled, she ran for the railing; below she could see the furrows of people surrounding somebody. It was hard to tell who it was as they immediately lost interest and decided to step across his body to continue their deluge of partying- though Sydney knew it must've been her opponent. He had fallen over the edge himself, and was now being trampled in an overwhelming spate of boots.

Sydney took the time to reunite with her satchel and patch herself up. She tore off her sleeve and wrapped her wound up tight, noting to herself not to use that arm too much. As she settled in the dust waiting for her medication to kick in, Sydney directed her gaze towards the other fights; there were four arenas and eight contestants- seven if you decided to only count those who stood on the platform. Each of the other brawls were beginning to subside, indicated by both their tired body language and the constant commentary that rung out across the podium.

The momentary lapse allowed her adrenaline to subside, revealing just how fatigued she truly was. Sydney steadied herself, concentrating her breathing and only now noticing how jagged and choppy it was. The stinging pain in her side became more and more persistent as she finished administering the platelets and forced herself upward. Sydney wanted to persuade the crowd and her hosts into believing she was fit to continue as she began walking around the ring absentmindedly.

Moments later, the same screeching feedback of the mic blew through the courtyard, followed by,

“The winners are Sydney, Than, The Crab, and Teirgan!” The final name was said with a sense of gusto, followed by the rambunctious cheers of the audience members, “Victors, please advance to the next level.”

Looking down the line of victorious contestants she saw her new opponent- a lumbering figure that was most definitely nonhuman. Beyond him she saw, again, that robust fighter from the booth. She watched as he advanced to the next stage, walking up the invisible staircase alongside she and two other bruisers; she noted he was considerably taller than the rest of them.

On this secondary stage, she was met with a strange, crablike creature. His hardy shelled torso and enormous claws made up for his slightly stubby nature. The only human part about him were his pants- even his face was two elongated eyestalks protruding from a small armored head. His eyes stared directly into Sydney.

Quickly, the announcement was made and the fight began. Sydney lunged at him, waving her staff to and fro, wielding it with gusto. She wasn't going to let herself get into another weak position like before. This crustacean was avid, however, and kept up with Sydney's erratic movements.

He was snapping at her arms trying to disarm her; each click of his claws snapped in her ears so incredibly loud that her body wrinkled in distaste. Sydney aimed for his semi- exposed head and slammed her pole right into it, though it only succeeded in angering him. Now the crab tried to snap the pole in half, grabbing it when she swung it at him and not letting go until he'd left a large gash in it's metal sides. Though, luckily, the staff did not break.

Sydney retreated from him. He was slow, but followed. She was contemplating something; it was meant to be a last resort in case things got too hairy, but she looked at this monster and knew that normal fighting would not work. She'd never break that shell from brute force alone. She moved her hands up the staff until she was holding the end firmly in hand. There was a small hole on the side, which Sydney stuck a finger into. From the end a large blade shung from edge; it was somewhat curved, and was still in good condition. Sydney laid out a plan for herself, “I'm just gonna use it to pry off the shell, nothing more,” She assured herself, “I can put it away as soon as he's exposed.”

Sydney threw herself back into the fight. The cameras followed as they flung themselves back and forth. With the blade, Sydney could gouge his armor, leaving scratches and weak spots wherever she hit him. She made sure to avoid his eyes and face; killing him was not her goal.  In their battle, the crab’s enormous claws were able to clip her a few times. While blocking from above, on her thighs, and while blocking from below, her arms. The piece of shell that protected his chest had a seam going across the stomach- Sydney speculated that if she were able to pry it open, they'd be on level playing ground.

She began directing her attacks at the opening. Every so often the blade would slide into the slit; she'd push down and try to force the shell apart. Her movements were getting less and less forceful. One person only had so much adrenaline- the platelets were likely not enough. In a series of battles like this, she'd likely need more that her travel kit. She knew that, and yet she didn't take the necessary precautions. How stupid of her.

But in this moment of weakness, came an overwhelming realization of how real it all truly was. And, following that, came an incessant fear. She took her fear and used it as a tool to attack her opponent; chopping through the air and waving the blade maniacally. She moved without care with only the thought of defeating him coursing through her. She aimed for the seam, as before, strifing hastily and without real care. She jammed it against him, forgetting his neccessant cuts and gashes and becoming lost in a backwards haze.

But then there was a gasp; a collective sound of surprise from the audience. And then, cheers and applause that filled the arena. Sydney looked down at her weapon- she saw that it had punctured through the armor and been stabbed deeply into his abdomen. Droplets trickled from the wound as the crab’s arms became less driven and more worried. He allowed himself to fall backwards into the sand where he laid in silence.

Sydney fell to his side; her eyes were wide and her body was shaking. She had no time to worry about her own seeping injuries- she’d just killed a man. His movements were laberous and Sydney could see it. She turned towards her bag- perhaps it could help- she tripped over her own body so shaken with fear. There weren’t tears, even though she felt like it’d be respectful to cry. The world seemed to be completely silent as she dug through her bag, looking for supplies and gauze and medical tape; and yet all at once, the laughter of the demon, of Lou, and of the sick, filthy people below seemed to ring in her ears. It was a sensation unlike any other.

Scrambling, Sydney threw herself at the crustacean’s side. She was digging through her armfuls of supplies, mumbling, “It’ll be alright. Let’s see here… I’ve got this… And these…” She trailed off. The crab was moving. He used his massive pincers to latch onto the staff that still stuck out from his chest. He pulled it from his body, releasing forth a spread of red blood to drip across his shattered eggshell of a body. His stubby eyes turned to Sydney. Words were said through them that she could have never understood. And, yet, she knew what he meant; he raised the staff into the air as if to smite her in revenge. And for a moment, Sydney wavered. But the blade did not come down on her head, instead it came down upon his own. He had beheaded himself. The staff, again, stood upright, being propped up in the sand that stood between his skull and his torso.

Above them, the girls were laughing. It wasn’t really laughing- more of a cackling, screaming, howling type sound. It was definitely otherworldly, to say the least, though the smiles on their faces indicated that they were having the time of their lives. Sydney would’ve rebutted them, but was in no mood. Their laughter only fed into the disrupting feeling that encased her skin, and made her sick. She felt as though her stomach would force itself out her throat and onto the pavement with any sudden movement. Deadlike and unnerved, she somberly patched up her own wounds.

“Aha…” The woman breathed, finishing up her laugh, “Contestants! Final Round! Sydney versus Teirgan! Please move to the next ring.”

Sydney stayed where she sat. All her energy had been depleted; she was quiet. The cuts across her body ached even as she breathed, but the aching felt far away. As though it was some other body being punctured, not her own.

Ghost-like, she moved to the wall. Again, she walked up the hidden steps to the final terminal, but this time she could barely feel the ground beneath her. Her body moved, but her head was stuck on the monster- his silent but gruesome death kept replaying in her mind and drown out any outside interferences.

At the other end was the long-awaited Teirgan. His body was like a wall, blocking out the sun as it stood overhead. His hands were white with callused-over skin, and his clothes were crusted with dirt as though he'd just crawled out of a grave. Though, he might as well have been dead; the wrinkles of his face and dark, tired eyes reflected a life more difficult than death.

“Sydney,” he spoke unexpectedly. She was intrigued that he remembered her name, and it snapped her out of her daze, “Please…” He begged, “let me win.”

“What?”

“You don’t know how this place works. She’s going to keep you here,” The expression on his face was worried.

“What do you mean? Who?”

“Ira,” he motioned upwards to that demonic lady. Sydney remorsed at the fact that she didn't realize that the demon was Ira sooner.

He continued, “Those walls you saw? They aren’t just for show- they’re to keep people in. You’ll be trapped in here like the rest of us.”

“...But-”

“The people here don’t realize it. They stay because she promises wishes, or water, or money… Then when they do leave… Sydney, they don’t ever make it. They always stay, or they always die.”

“Excuse me!” Ira interrupted them. She was standing up, and there was a heavy, wrenching feeling as though you’d been spotted by a superior doing something you shouldn’t be.

“I don't know what's going on down there,” She commanded, “But I'm not paying you to stand around.”

Without hesitation, Sydney threw the first hand. She distrusted the strange man, ‘He’s acting so buddy-buddy,’ She thought, ‘He’s probably just trying to psyche me out. Just trying to get the upper hand.’

His body was unmoved, however, as he was able to grab her by the collar and toss her aside. As she went to stand, he spoke again,

“Please, Sydney. I need to speak to her in front of everyone. I need to let them know how she’s been deceiving them.”

She wasn’t listening. She tried again with her weapon and hit him on the shoulder, but miraculously he was unfazed. He was a lot slower than the others, but his ability to take hits made him powerful. Teirgan picked up her staff and held it a few feet off the ground; Sydney dangled from it as he began to shake it violently, whiping her around with brutish force. She wildly kicked her legs outwards at him and jammed him in the head. Or his jaw, rather, as when he dropped her to the ground Sydney saw him spitting out a mouthful of blood. Through the iron-taste on his lips, he tried again,

“You know that crab-guy? The one you fought back there?” Teirgan’s voice spewed out spots of blood, “Do you know why he ended himself like that? Because he knew that even if he did survive, he’d be too injured to entertain Ira. And in this world, you either fight for supplies or die trying.”

* * *

All the while, above them, Ira and Lou sat side by side in their plastic lounging chairs, speaking about the match.

“Ira,” Lou looked over to her, “you can’t let him win.”

“I know,” she admitted, “I was thinking the same thing. But y’know, I’m not really one to tip the scales.”

“If you let him win, he might take advantage of the attention.”

“Yes, yes. He might,” Ira recrossed her legs, “And I can’t talk to him off camera because then there’d be a real uprising. And I can’t let him win on camera because he might try and say something… Oh my, what a decision.”

The fight continued sloppily and misshapen. Sydney was weak and wobbled in her step, and although Teirgan felt sorrow for her, he fought relentlessly; nothing was going to steal this moment from him.

The blows against her staff seemed endless. He placed a constant stress on her block that Sydney feared she'd no longer be able to keep up. He snatched the pole from her hands and knocked her away, giving just enough time for Teirgan to thrust the bar across his knee. Instantly, it snapped apart, crackling into the wind and burying flecks of metal in the dust.

Defenceless, Sydney was scrambling backwards over the sand trying to gather her bearings, but Teirgan was far too quick. His pace picked up and for the first time she had seen, his stride kicked up into a sprint. He shook the earth tremendously as he forced himself towards her, arms out and shaking with fury. His eyes were filled with anger, though it was an anger for his life and the fact that Ira was the cause of it, not necessarily because Sydney had hit him. She screamed out at the sight, involuntarily afraid. She didn't want to be scared, she knew she couldn't get lost in it, but knowing this, seeing him- the pain in her belly and the blood that dripped from her skull- it was paralyzing.

But, then, just like that, he was across the floor and unconscious. Unmoving and as it seemed, unbreathing. He had been flung across the space to the edge of the floor. Had he gone any farther, he might've gone off the edge. In his place Ira was standing tall and cool. She did not care about him; instead she cared about Sydney.

“Sorry,” she said, “He’s a bit of a.. Liability. I didn’t think he’d get this far, actually. But he did. And I couldn’t let him win after that,” she was referencing something that must've happened previously; the disgust on her face indicated she was rather unpleased with it.

Sydney fidgeted in the dirt, “...What did he do?”

“Oh,” Ira a brushed a claw through her hair, “He… questioned my authority.”

Sydney was taken aback.

“Oh, you know,” She continued, “He was talking about how I was unfair, and how people should be treated differently, blah blah blah… He’s the type to take any publicity and turn it into some political statement. You can understand why I couldn’t let him on camera. Not to mention, if he’d blabbed about his ‘ideas’ to any of his little friends- and they saw him winning- they’d probably think… I dunno… that they could stand against me or something,” She turned to Sydney, “You know how it goes.”

There was a brief pause before Sydney spoke, “What’s going to happen to me?”

“Ah, you’ll win. I’ll just tell the crowd that the cameras cut out. You’ll get your money still.”

“But… not my freedom.”

Ira scoffed a bit, smiling, “What do you mean?”

“I mean… the doors. You won’t let me leave here, will you? After this I’ll just… be stuck on this island.”

Ira was irritated, and spoke through her teeth, “...Yes,” she hissed.

“Well then. What if I fight for it? My freedom, I mean. What if I fought you and got to leave as a reward?”

Ira laughed, “Fight me?” She waved her arms and stumbled on her feet, “Oh Sydney, my girl. You silly girl!”

Lou stepped to the edge of the stage to throw in her word, “You should do it,” she shouted, “She’s a special case, you know.”

“Ah, yeah. A special case,” Ira’s smile was condescending. Both physically and mentally, she was greater than Sydney. A monster in heinous glory, with jagged fangs and bright red horns; her hands could crush Sydney's skull with little effort. She was a beast not to be meddled with.

“Alright, Sydney,” She admitted, “I’ll fight you. Off camera, of course. You win, you’ll get the money and the freedom. You lose, and I throw you off this pedestal- penniless, homeless, and probably dead.”

Sydney glanced at her medkit, kicked off to the side and buried in silt. She nodded at the conditions.

“Alright, then. Let’s get started.”

Sydney made a run for a piece of her staff that had been discarded. It was the end with the knife; now it stuck out in an odd fashion, and would likely never retreat to its sheath again. But in this fight, that was a good thing, as Sydney intended not to hold back.

‘So, it's true,’ She thought, ‘Ira doesn't just look like a demon, but she enslaves like one too.’

Sydney went to jab the knife into her leg, but Ira caught her by the face. Her enormous hand engulfed her entire head, and her thumb was wrapped around the back of her neck. Ira threw her away, exposing her fangs when she laughed at the way Sydney’s body bounced against the earth.

But Sydney tried again; she swiped at her from behind, then again, chasing after Ira’s weaving movements. Ira was playing with her, and she knew it. To her, the fight was a game. Fighting a human? It was so pathetic, that it was hilarious. Even Lou smiled from above in her little plastic chair.

Sydney took a handful of her hair and tugged her head back. Ira was flung backwards, almost tripping, but catching herself. However, Sydney caught her in her moment of exposure, and- from behind- brought the broken blade of her staff down on Ira’s face.

Ira cried out, and snapped her body back, cradling her head in her hands. She whipped back around; a gash was gushing from her forehead through her eyebrow, dripping blood in her eyes and down her cheeks. But the only thing Sydney saw on her face was rage.

Ira balanced back on her two enormous hands, propelling her legs up. She kicked Sydney forwards, then slammed into her jaw and chest, forcing her to fly over a few feet away. Her head was spinning, unable to see Ira catching herself back on her feet and snapping her crooked fingers.

Suddenly, Sydney felt herself being drug backwards across the floor. She thought it was some sort of magic that was pulling her off the platform. She struggled to get away, scraping across the dirt, but her hands only slid on the soft earth.

Then, she felt herself fall into some sort of hole. She kept herself above ground using her arms and legs, but peeked for a moment at what was below. Sydney had been half-right; what was sucking her in was a portal to the underworld, brimming with ghouls and demons, screaming out and crying for her. They floated in a spiral, spreading out their long fingers and nipping at the hem of her coat. Their bodies were made of made of the grotesque flesh one often finds in nightmares. Sydney screamed out at the spectacle.

Ira had moved closer, now; she stood over her, silently threatening to step on her.

“Sydney,” She spoke. Her voice held a disturbing vibration to it, that shook Sydney to the core even moreso than the screams of the underworld. Whimpering and half-crying, she listened.

“There is only one person in this world who is stronger than me,” She paused, making sure their eyes were locked together, “...and it is not you.”

She snapped her fingers and the portal disappeared. Sydney was left on the floor, a heaving, trembling mess. She could not bring herself to breath properly, let alone tend her wounds and let alone stand beside her captor. Lou had passed the microphone to Ira,

“Everyone!” Ira yelled.

The jumbo screen below was filled with an image of her face as she continued,

“Sydney wins!”

The crowds cheered and applause spewed from the mob.

“But wait… there's more!”

They hushed themselves slightly in anticipation. Ira was purposely dragging it out,

“We are having… an outing!”

And with those few words, the crowd erupted.

* * *

Sydney sat awkwardly in the backseat, while Lou and Ira manned the front. Ira propped her hooves up on the dashboard as Lou ran the wheel, driving straight through the desert wasteland. A stream of dust was trailing behind them, and just beyond it, a wave of trucks and jeeps were speeding ahead, following them to the wall.

They skidded across the dirt to a halt, with the smoke stream dissipating behind. There was a field around them that prevented from any outsiders from getting too close, which was a good thing, Sydney thought, because the trucks and cars had parked themselves right up against it. Some were driving directly into the field, flooring against the wall with smoke streaming out from behind them. Some people discarded their cars and pushed themselves against the invisible walls, some crying, some beating against it with wood or bars or even shooting at them, aiming for Ira and Lou. From inside, you could see their dirty hands and crusted rags of clothing pressing on the glass, crying out for- as they said- salvation.

Their psychotic shouts and violet, erratic outbreaks were chilling, and it prompted Sydney to turn her back on them.

“Sydney,” Ira pulled her around by the shoulder, “My girl… take a look.”

Using her enormous claw, she flashed her palm to the doorway. The metal fence began to vibrate the earth, and with a heavy, ear wrenching screech it heaved the ‘OUT’ door open. Along with the scrapes, the outside crowd cheered and screened. A wave of voices called out as the door was opened, and for the first time in who knows how long, they could see the vast blue ocean splashing softly against the dock.

Ira gave Sydney a bit of a push. Sydney, still anemic, stumbled and almost fell into the dirt. Catching herself, she looked back at the two of them; Ira with her white mane of hair, oily, red skin, and a surly tail flicking in irritation. Then Lou, off to the side, adorned in black leather that contrasted with her white body. The wings perched on her head turned as she cocked her head in Sydney's direction.

“Well,” Lou said, “What are you waiting for?”

Ira smiled, “Yeah. Haven't had an outing in years. You should feel special.”

Sydney was slow to move, dragging her feet towards the opening. She felt like she needed to say something, to stand up. There was an obvious injustice being done and she felt so rotten just letting it happen all around her.

Under the brash heat of the sun she stopped at the edge of the doorway, breathing in the dust and allowing the breeze to whip through her hair. She turned around, slowly, gazing into the eyes of a demon.

“Ira!” She yelled, “What you're doing is wrong!”

“Oh god, here she goes,” Ira half-whispered to Lou.

“I can't just let you do this. I'm going to… I'm gonna stop this. I'll, I'm-”

Ira waved a hand, and Sydney was thrown backwards. She tripped over the tracks, and landed in time to see the door slamming shut behind her. She forced herself upwards, and began pounding at the wall. The bruises on her arms made it difficult to lift them very high, so she hit the door at chest-level.

“Ira!” She screamed, “Ira, I'm coming for you!”

On the other side, Ira and Lou had already gotten back into their pink pickup. Starting the engine, they made a swift U-turn, laughing all the way at Sydney's pathetic voice echoing in the distance.

As they drove, the crowd became more quiet. They were coming up quick on the edges of the field, and no one wanted to miss their chance. As soon as Ira’s truck hit the side of the wall, it disappeared. The cars previously anchored by the wall were now released into the space. Their burning tires flew across the dirt and skidded into the opening, some vehicles scraping up against one another, others losing faith and turning back. But of those that stayed, they thrust their foot into the pedal as far as it would go; the roar of their engines was the last thing anyone heard before they pile drived themselves into the door.

But Sydney heard nothing. The only thing she heard was Ira, driving away, and then silence. Hoarsely, she continued to scream,

“Do you hear me! You won't get away with this! I'm going to tell someone, I'm going to find someone… someday, I'll get you back for this!”