His blued feet out of turnedup trousers slapped the clammy sand, a dull brick muffler strangling his unshaven neck. Folks, that’s what a fragment of genius looks like all wrote down particular.
Unheeded he kept by them as they came towards the drier sand, a rag of wolf’s tongue redpanting from his jaws. This sentence has the capacity to make one feel that one should put one’s pencil down and toss one’s scribbles into the fire and go sit quietly by the sea.
BLOOMSDAY TOAST Here’s to – Nora the barnacle goose – Skin-the-Goat – the giggle fit of bronze by gold – the blind stripling piano tuner tap tap tapping along – Stephen deep in thought strolling on Sandymount Strand – socks with skyblue clocks, jaunty – Plumtree’s Potted Meats, which can make of each home an [...]
Here we have a crude illustration as to why the sentence closing the Nestor chapter in James Joyce’s ULYSSES is the loon’s favorite sentence ever written. The sentence is the nearly blind Irishman’s way of boasting, “Oh, by the way, I can do this.” Well, what is the sentence? The sentence goes thusly: ‘On his [...]
Presentation Some commotion. Enough to be noticed. Small crowd gathering in front of the cottage at the edge of the shire. The door to the cottage open for the first time in collective memory. “There’s a tunnel below, that’s what.” “Naw, a burrow to the back, I heared tell.” “Be it cakes or bread, one [...]
Here’s to – Nora the barnacle goose – Skin-the-Goat – the giggle fit of bronze by gold – the blind stripling piano tuner tap tap tapping along – skyblue socks with clocks, jaunty – Plumtree’s Potted Meats, which can make of each home an abode of bliss – Rose of Castille and rows of cast [...]
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Doc's Lunacy
