a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo....
Happy Birthday, James Joyce. I can't help loving you, even though you didn't share your royalties from Ulysses with Sylvia Beach, after all the money she spent, and borrowed, to get your damn book published. You know you broke her, right? But you made me an English major, and a modernist, and you inspired me to write in books, and underline, and fold pages over, and memorize passages, and study Aquinas' theories of beauty. And you taught me about Kitty O'Shea.
posted by Margo, darling at 1:18 PM
5 Comments:
Bloomsday is one of my all-time favorite holidays. Thanks for giving JJ a birthday shout out.
I couldn't get through "Portrait of the Artist..." last year. Talk about obtuse. And, the rainy setting depressed me because we were in the height of our rainy Chicago winter.
I can only understand Ullyses when I read it aloud. My about me description on my blog is a random passage from that book, even.
Oh, and I like the makeover you've given your page and ID-picture.
@ dr. m(mmm)
And I can only understand you when I reread your post twice. "My about me description on my blog". "My about me?"
Consider saying:
My "About Me" description on my blog...
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