#Just trying to explain my best boy's appearance in The Lawless

[duchess-of-mandalore]

Living Memories

Also available on Ao3 There's very little demand for blond hair dye on Mandalore. Satine has to import it specially, but with the major trade routes impeded, it's difficult to find a supplier close enough to deliver to Sundari that carries it. She buys out the seller's entire stock because this isn't an issue that's going to go away any time soon.

She knows it's necessary. Her political enemies have decided that since their attempts against her life haven't panned out, they'd go after the only thing she cared about. She'd known that this could happen; it's why she sent him to the Royal Academy and did her best to keep him out of the spotlight. But Almec had known Korkie was her pressure point, and now her other enemies have made the connection. A walk in the city had resulted in a pell-mell dash for cover to escape an assassin; a trip to the Sundari planetarium had ended in a near-successful kidnapping attempt.

She could send him away to Coruscant. It's what her father did to keep her safe when she was his age. But he is her greatest joy, and she doesn't want to lose him. Plus, he'd probably wait two days and then abscond to the Jedi Temple. It's terribly selfish of her, but she isn't ready for those doors to be opened just yet.

Still, she's determined he lead a normal life in Sundari. It would be difficult to truly disguise the Prince of Mandalore, but this would give him an advantage. Allow him to blend in with the crowd. Red hair wasn't unheard of in Mandalore—her sister's bold red hair had come from their mother—but it certainly made him stand out. She is already a liability to him; she won't let his auburn locks make him even more so.

She knows what to expect, but when Korkie emerges from the 'fresher in her personal suite, looking entirely like a new person, her heart falls. He rubs a towel over his wet hair, the bleached locks fall around his face.

"Well, what do you think?" he says good-naturedly.

She can't speak.

What had she done to deserve this boy? He was so willing to undertake this change when she'd asked him to do so. Always so adaptable; so willing to do what needed to be done. And he did it with a smile on his face.

But she has to blink down on her tears when she sees him. For sixteen years, he'd been a visual reminder of the worst and the best year of her life. It shouldn't have been such a fuss, but his ginger hair had been a constant, and a reminder of her heart's desire, residing in the Jedi Temple half a galaxy away. Losing it now—after so much loss over the last few years—feels like the straw that breaks the eopie's back.

He looks so different.

She wipes away a tear and plays it off as a joke. "You look so grown up!" she says over-enthusiastically.

Korkie rolls his eyes, just as she knew he would. A blush flares over his light skin. He was sixteen now, and probably thought himself too old for such sentimental comments.

He moves to the vanity and sits down in front of the mirror. Using his hands, he slicks his damp hair back over his head. Satine hadn't been lying. The color makes him look significantly older, and the style emphasizes the sharpness of his cheekbones and aristocratic nose. Where had the boy who had crawled into her bed after a bad dream gone?

She comes to stand next to him at the vanity and runs a hand through the short, bleached locks at the nape of his neck. Korkie catches her eye in the mirror and smiles.

"Now I look more like you, Auntie."

Her heart wrenches at the sentiment and—as it always does—at the epithet. She leans down to press a kiss against his forehead and says, "You look very handsome, cyar'ika."

[wisdomfish]

AS AN ATHEIST, I TRULY BELIEVE AFRICA NEEDS GOD

by Matthew Parris (The Times - 27/12/08) 

"Before Christmas I returned, after 45 years, to the country that as a boy I knew as Nyasaland. Today it's Malawi, and The Times Christmas Appeal includes a small British charity working there. Pump Aid helps rural communities to install a simple pump, letting people keep their village wells sealed and clean. I went to see this work.

It inspired me, renewing my flagging faith in development charities. But travelling in Malawi refreshed another belief, too: one I've been trying to banish all my life, but an observation I've been unable to avoid since my African childhood. It confounds my ideological beliefs, stubbornly refuses to fit my world view, and has embarrassed my growing belief that there is no God.

Now a confirmed atheist, I've become convinced of the enormous contribution that Christian evangelism makes in Africa: sharply distinct from the work of secular NGOs, government projects and international aid efforts. These alone will not do. Education and training alone will not do. In Africa Christianity changes people's hearts. It brings a spiritual transformation. The rebirth is real. The change is good.

I used to avoid this truth by applauding - as you can - the practical work of mission churches in Africa. It's a pity, I would say, that salvation is part of the package, but Christians black and white, working in Africa, do heal the sick, do teach people to read and write; and only the severest kind of secularist could see a mission hospital or school and say the world would be better without it. I would allow that if faith was needed to motivate missionaries to help, then, fine: but what counted was the help, not the faith.

But this doesn't fit the facts. Faith does more than support the missionary; it is also transferred to his flock. This is the effect that matters so immensely, and which I cannot help observing.

First, then, the observation. We had friends who were missionaries, and as a child I stayed often with them; I also stayed, alone with my little brother, in a traditional rural African village. In the city we had working for us Africans who had converted and were strong believers. The Christians were always different. Far from having cowed or confined its converts, their faith appeared to have liberated and relaxed them. There was a liveliness, a curiosity, an engagement with the world - a directness in their dealings with others - that seemed to be missing in traditional African life. They stood tall.

At 24, travelling by land across the continent reinforced this impression. From Algiers to Niger, Nigeria, Cameroon and the Central African Republic, then right through the Congo to Rwanda, Tanzania and Kenya, four student friends and I drove our old Land Rover to Nairobi.

We slept under the stars, so it was important as we reached the more populated and lawless parts of the sub-Sahara that every day we find somewhere safe by nightfall. Often near a mission.

Whenever we entered a territory worked by missionaries, we had to acknowledge that something changed in the faces of the people we passed and spoke to: something in their eyes, the way they approached you direct, man-to-man, without looking down or away. They had not become more deferential towards strangers - in some ways less so - but more open.

This time in Malawi it was the same. I met no missionaries. You do not encounter missionaries in the lobbies of expensive hotels discussing development strategy documents, as you do with the big NGOs. But instead I noticed that a handful of the most impressive African members of the Pump Aid team (largely from Zimbabwe) were, privately, strong Christians. âPrivatelyâ because the charity is entirely secular and I never heard any of its team so much as mention religion while working in the villages. But I picked up the Christian references in our conversations. One, I saw, was studying a devotional textbook in the car. One, on Sunday, went off to church at dawn for a two-hour service.

It would suit me to believe that their honesty, diligence and optimism in their work was unconnected with personal faith. Their work was secular, but surely affected by what they were. What they were was, in turn, influenced by a conception of man's place in the Universe that Christianity had taught.

There's long been a fashion among Western academic sociologists for placing tribal value systems within a ring fence, beyond critiques founded in our own culture: âtheirsâ and therefore best for âthemâ; authentic and of intrinsically equal worth to ours.

I don't follow this. I observe that tribal belief is no more peaceable than ours; and that it suppresses individuality. People think collectively; first in terms of the community, extended family and tribe. This rural-traditional mindset feeds into the âbig manâ and gangster politics of the African city: the exaggerated respect for a swaggering leader, and the (literal) inability to understand the whole idea of loyal opposition.

Anxiety - fear of evil spirits, of ancestors, of nature and the wild, of a tribal hierarchy, of quite everyday things - strikes deep into the whole structure of rural African thought. Every man has his place and, call it fear or respect, a great weight grinds down the individual spirit, stunting curiosity. People won't take the initiative, won't take things into their own hands or on their own shoulders.

How can I, as someone with a foot in both camps, explain? When the philosophical tourist moves from one world view to another he finds - at the very moment of passing into the new - that he loses the language to describe the landscape to the old. But let me try an example: the answer given by Sir Edmund Hillary to the question: Why climb the mountain? âBecause it's there,â he said.

To the rural African mind, this is an explanation of why one would not climb the mountain. It's... well, there. Just there. Why interfere? Nothing to be done about it, or with it. Hillary's further explanation - that nobody else had climbed it - would stand as a second reason for passivity.

Christianity, post-Reformation and post-Luther, with its teaching of a direct, personal, two-way link between the individual and God, unmediated by the collective, and unsubordinate to any other human being, smashes straight through the philosphical/spiritual framework I've just described. It offers something to hold on to to those anxious to cast off a crushing tribal groupthink. That is why and how it liberates.

Those who want Africa to walk tall amid 21st-century global competition must not kid themselves that providing the material means or even the knowhow that accompanies what we call development will make the change. A whole belief system must first be supplanted.

And I'm afraid it has to be supplanted by another. Removing Christian evangelism from the African equation may leave the continent at the mercy of a malign fusion of Nike, the witch doctor, the mobile phone and the machete."

[mia-salazar]

Zombie Apocalypse AU

This modern day zombie au has kind of been in the works for a while now. I figured that I have enough written out that I can start sharing this with people. Here are the basics. My main focus is to have all of this take place outside of the United States for once. Mostly in European countries but if anyone wants to expand and have a story based in the US, please feel free and do so.

Cause of the Plague

Strange portals appeared all over the world one day mysteriously. Scientists and officials alike were baffled. There's nothing to explain it! Many civilians came to marvel at the sights. Reports came from all over the world that many countries and different major cities had the same phenomena. A lot of people contemplated going inside but were stopped due to the unknown nature of the portals.

Awe turned to terror when not even a day later, horribly disfigured creatures bearing a human resemblance emerged and started devouring scientists and onlookers alike. The dead (or those not completely devoured) sat right back up and joined in. That day was dubbed as Day 0, the end of civilization and the dawn of the undead hordes. From that day on, the portals became known as “The Devil’s Triangle” by survivors.

Unbeknownst to the humans, the mastermind behind the Plague is an entity not from this world. An invisible, inter-dimensional, malevolent being that does what it does simply because it wants to. This is all merely a game to it. Humans are the pawns that are set up to be knocked over for amusement. Thriving on misery, it sends it’s puppets to cause chaos in select worlds that the entity deems fit enough for it’s entertainment. All it has to do is sit back within the Portal and watch as our world collapses. 

Zombies

Not all of them are your regular George Romero zombies. These guys have different classifications given to them by survivors and raiders alike. Every single one of them has an insatiable Hunger.

Husks: Slow-moving like in earlier zombie films. Can be recently turned or old. A lot of these zombies will sport the wounds from when they were turned all over their bodies. Some of which are still festering but the Husks don’t feel pain. If they lost a limb, they would still attempt to crawl after you. These zombies typically do not have much to them but travel in packs. If you’re not careful, you can easily find yourself in the middle of a horde.

Specters: The ones that started it all. These undead are the silent sentries of the Triangles and will defend it until properly put down. These creatures have never been human. All are merely puppets that have been created by the entity residing in the dimension beyond the portals. Their appearance may be humanoid but a closer look will prove that wrong. Their bodies are paper white with sickly black veins protruding from the skin. A notable feature is that the holes where their eyes should have been have been completely crusted over by a pus and a black tar-like substance. Their mouths sport deadly, jagged sharp teeth meant to rip and shred. They have elongated claws on both their fingers as well as their toes.

Hunters: Way more of a threat. They have enhanced strength, speed, and endurance. More people have fallen victim to these zombies after the massacre on Day 0. They’re still as mindless as the husks.

Berserkers: These undead are the same as the Hunters but have been given the gift of semi-sentience. Meaning they’re able to hunt for prey more efficiently, able to problem solve. Worst of all, they have abilities reaching into the supernatural category; all varying in abilities. Luckily these are few and far between but if you come across one, run and pray. Even if you were to land a blow on them, it would only enrage them (hence their name) and hunt you down until you are dead in their grasp.

Special zombies: There’s really no name for them yet. Most who have come across them have no idea what they encountered. Not only were these undead sentient but their consciences were the same as the day they were turned. Their strength was the same as the Hunters and were given the supernatural gifts like the Berserkers. Many survivors believe these to be stories that are too good to be true. Especially since all of which involve said zombies rescuing humans from other undead. There was no way an undead would be able to be coherent enough to even form a sentence much less fight against the Hunger. Was there...?

Humans

A lot has changed since Day 0 saw the collapse of civilization. Many families were separated in the ensuing chaos of the evacuations to the countryside. Men and women alike lost their lives all over the world trying to combat the forces coming from the portals. Eventually military officials from various countries realized that they weren’t going to get any help from upstairs. Thus, they began to band together to ensure the continued survival of innocent civilians. (Heavily fortified settlements were erected in various locations all over Europe. There are major hubs in which plans against the Triangle are being discussed. Interestingly enough, as large as they are, they are notoriously hard to find due to secrecy.) People from all over are welcome so long as they pitch in to work and are willing to follow the rules put in place. Non-military run settlements have been established as well and will trade with their neighbors. 

Unfortunately, they began to experience threats not just from the undead but from the people they were supposed to be protecting as well. Select individuals decided they would rather roam the country side and make their own way. Which would have been fine had they not formed their own gangs to terrorize other survivors. These gangs are known as Raiders. Each gang has a unique set up in how they are run, complete with their own gang names and symbols. It’s almost laughable, however these gangs are not to be trifled with. Some are cannibalistic which is reason enough to be on the look out. Others have taken to enslaving anyone they can capture for either manual labor or as gladiators in makeshift arenas of horror. One such Raider clan resides in what remains of Barcelona, Spain. “The Lawless”, as they are called.

Armando and crew

They are all part of a last ditch effort to make an assault on the source of the supernatural plague (The Triangle). Every branch was needed in the war effort. Before hand, any military operation within the months after the Triangle revealed itself to malevolent was quickly and systematically overrun. The undead mostly ignored the civilians in these operations unless they got in the way. Almost as if it was just easier to get the militaries out of the way....

Armando and Co. left behind loved ones (Mía, Tori, and Megan among them) in the hopes that they would return after this mess was properly taken care of. None of them survived. At least not technically. They’re undead but have retained their human memories and are able to speak normally. Now gifted with supernatural abilities (enhanced speed, strength, etc), they escape the zombie stronghold with information regarding who may be behind this plague. Their hope is to regroup with what’s left of the military as well as reunite with their families. They’re sticking to the hope that they will be able to find them still alive and unturned.

They spent over a year in that hellhole. Less than they had in canon but they were tormented by a soft-childlike voice that would take on the voices of their loved ones; evilly taunting and tormenting them. This voice is of the entity of the Triangle itself. When they finally are able to free themselves, all voices ceased along with the connection to the Triangle. Almost like a curse had been lifted.

Their appearances are pretty much as ragged as their DMTNT forms. More blood and gore, however. Some have lost fingers, others don’t have an eye. One poor sucker (background character) doesn’t even have an arm. None the less, they were gifted with actual sentience as well as various abilities. I will elaborate on that later. There is a catch. 

They have to feed the Hunger every once in a while, less they lose themselves and follow the rest of the undead into being mindless pawns. For the most part (when its not a raider) they deeply regret eating people but its for the best. They have a mission to fulfill and loved ones to protect. Luckily for the our undead boys, the raiders are plenty and they won't have to worry about eating an innocent survivor often. They figure they're still being protectors of the people by getting rid of these scumbags. 

That’s it for now, I’m still coming up with the specifics. lol

[rivahadi]

The Hate U Give, A Teen’s Political Awakening while in search for her Identity

The Hate U Give (2018) is an incredibly powerful contemporary epic that offers a diverse view of what it’s like to grow up black in America. It also connects to the themes of family, identity, race and justice. The use of these themes result in a narrative where the main character is brave enough to stand up to an unjust system and explore her own identity. Starr, the main character of the movie, is a young black student who is effectively living a double life. Her dad is a proud Black Panther who lives in a tough black neighbourhood, but he has now settled down to running a store profitable enough for him to send his daughter to a posh private school. It is here that Starr has learned how to pass for white culturally: nice, hardworking Starr hangs out with the Insta princesses who appear to accept her with no reservations and she has a really nice white boyfriend. Although in school she is always careful to keep any threateningly “black” mannerisms in check, when she goes to parties in her own neighbourhood, she has to avoid any “white” phrases.

Insta princesses … Megan Lawless, Amandla Stenberg and Sabrina Carpenter in The Hate U Give. Photograph: Erika Doss/AP To visually mirror the experience of switching between the worlds of Garden Heights, her home where her own family grew up and Williamson Prep, the affluent white private high school, the lighting and color of the scenes also change from warm, familiar tones (Garden Heights) to washed out blue hues (Williamson). The scenes in the Carter household look inviting and well lit, bringing to mind the comfort of a loving family. When Starr is at school, her face looks washed out and pale, as if the screen was trying to mute the colors of everyone’s skin to look the same. She tries so desperately to fit in this environment, she sacrifices who she is in more ways than just avoiding using the slang terms. The issue of racial tension—and how to deal with it— extends throughout the film. Starr and some of her white friends struggle with racism, though only Starr seems to recognize it and makes efforts to move past it. She's also willing to confront others at times regarding these issues. At one point, some white kids go around spewing crude slang. An angry Starr puts some of them in their place, stating, "You all want to act black, but keep your white privilege." It is at one of the parties in her neighbourhood that she runs into Khalil, a boy she once knew when they were both kids. Khalil disappeared for a while and ended up selling drugs for the local gang, the King Lords, in order to take care of his cancer-ridden grandmother. When a fight breaks out at the party, Khalil offers to take Starr home to make sure she gets there safely. A cop pulls them over for some unexplained reason, and Khalil gets defensive. Starr tries to coach him through her father’s warnings: hands on the dashboard, do what they say. Khalil is shot and killed by a white police officer after reaching into his car and pulling out a hairbrush. The officer then handcuffs Starr next to her dying friend. He had mistaken the hairbrush in Khalil’s hand as a weapon and shot first before asking any questions. Starr finds that she has to testify under oath in front of a grand jury, meaning that she, Khalil and her whole community will be on trial. The crisis of loyalty means her whole “white/black” identity goes to pieces, along with friendships with people who “don’t see race”. The issues confronting black Americans today are reflected in the wide-ranging ensemble, as Starr is conflicted about what to do. It challenges clichéd ideas like “not seeing color,” as Starr emotionally confronts her boyfriend by saying, “If you don’t see color, you don’t see me.” As Starr works to find her own identity, we’re exposed to a variety of diverse identities along the way. No two black experiences are the same, but the refusal to recognize the validity of any black experiences is part of the reason the racial divide in the United States of America remains so intense. Both of Starr's parents take every opportunity to protect their kids. Mav, her father, comforts his emotionally wounded daughter after Khalil's death. Mav also physically places himself between his family and drug dealing thugs as well as two cops with guns drawn. Starr's mom is willing to do the same. It's obvious that the whole family has a close, loving bond. The movie feels instructional without getting too preachy, taking time to explain various inequalities that black Americans face, typically in exchanges between father and daughter. In learning the ways of this unjust system, Starr decides not to accept things the way they are. Her outlook reflects the kind of youth-led movements that have sprung up from Black Lives Matter and the marches against gun violence in schools. An activist declares that police shootings of blacks are all equally unjustified. "It's impossible to be unarmed," Starr proclaims, "When our blackness is the weapon they fear!" The film repeatedly shows one protestor cry that, "The whole darn system is corrupt!" Starr gets angry when a friend says, "Cops' lives matter, too." For all the declarations we hear about innocent until proven guilty, the film questions why people of color so often seem guilty until proven innocent.   Amandla Stenberg in the film adaptation of Angie Thomas’s best-selling book, “The Hate U Give.”Credit Erika Doss/Twentieth Century Fox

Even though this film attempts to be fair-minded, it still comes off feeling one-sided in its treatment of controversial issues. Viewers who agree with its perspective may cheer its messages. Those who don't may very well be offended by them. And for many, the film's foul language and violence will only add to that discomfort. For the other side, swearing could be seen as something powerful. When chosen with deliberate consideration, they aren't a cop-out; they're a strong way to make a statement with a particular audience. Together with the emphasis on speaking truth to power, language thus becomes the ultimate means to spur meaningful societal change. The title The Hate U Give is derived from a Tupac Shakur interview, and if you hadn’t already guessed, an acronym for THUG. But in Tupac’s original words, the full acronym was for THUG LIFE: The Hate U Give Little Infants Fucks Everybody, which is repeated throughout the film. As he said in the original interview, “What you feed us as seeds, grows and blows up in your face.” And if the seeds that are being sewn within Generation-Z are that we live in a society that stands up, like Starr, and become the voice for the voiceless, then maybe in the future we’ll have fewer needs for films like this.,but until we do, films like The Hate U Give are important. These stories haven’t been given the platform like this to be told, and they desperately need to continue to be told; very well could save lives. This movie ultimately presents blackness itself as a multifaceted identity, complicating the stereotypical assumptions thrust upon Starr, her family, and Garden Heights at large. Families who watch this will have plenty of big issues to discuss afterward; hopefully teens will also appreciate the movie's messages about standing up for what they believe in, being proud of who you are, and communicating honestly with their parents and friends.The Hate U Give forces viewers to recognize the characters as fully human and to reckon with them on their terms. With heroines like Starr at the fore, viewers can imagine not only new possibilities for black girls, but also new visions of our collective humanity.  Rising out of a space of being policed at home, at school, and on the streets, Starr carves out an identity of her own where she is no longer confined to the prison of silence and complacency. In fact, she’s found a sense of freedom in being a voice for a young black generation — even for those that are long gone.

Dear Dr. Shea, Writing a Pop culture analysis paper is something I’ve never done before, but it’s something I found myself quite passionate writing about. I really like the fact that you gave us the freedom to pick and analyze a pop culture artifact of our choice, as it gave me the opportunity to write about something I truly care about. The activities we did in class really prepared me to write this paper and make it something I was proud of. Connecting the movie I critiqued to our class themes helped me understand and see the movie from a range of perspectives. It also pushed me to educate myself more about the issues that are portrayed in this film. I included film analysis terms because ever since we did the film analysis paper last semester, I often notice the lighting, music and camera angles when watching a movie. Noticing these things has pushed me to think deeper about the meaning of what’s being portrayed on screen. I think the strongest part of my paper is the way I played with grammar and how I connected this movie to our class themes, as well as issues around the world. A weaker aspect of my paper is my conclusion. I’m not quite sure if it’s enough but I did think about it, and it did evolve into something better in my final draft. I found the writing process enjoyable as I loved this movie and even went back to watch it for a second time half way through writing my paper. I hope you enjoy reading my pop analysis paper on The Hate U Give. Sincerely, Riva

[ruminativerabbi]

Presidents and Emperors

Since I’ve been writing lately about the way I related to various events of 1967, I thought this week I’d write about yet one more: the performance of MacBird! I attended with, of all people, my mother. For readers too old or too young to remember back that far, MacBird! was a play by Barbara Garson starring Stacy Keach (at the very beginning of his career) and Rue McClanahan (long before she became the sexy one on The Golden Girls) that ran for almost a year at the Village Gate in 1967 and 1968, and which basically accused Lyndon Johnson of complicity in the assassination of John F. Kennedy. Layering the actual details of the Kennedy assassination and LBJ’s subsequent assumption of the presidency over the plot of Macbeth (with some side-dollops of Richard III and Hamlet), the show in its day was considered too radical for a real Broadway house and was relegated to the West Village, then (as now) the Manhattan-theater-scene equivalent of Siberia.  My mother, already slightly radicalized and by then a card-carrying member of N.O.W., was curious enough to want to see the show. I wanted to see it too…and I apparently wanted to see it badly enough to suffer the ignominy of going along with my mother. (And, for readers who were never teenaged boys, let me assure you that that we are talking about serious ignominy here.) Besides, I told myself, who would actually see me walking down Bleecker Street with my mom?

It was June, the same June on the first day of which the Sgt. Pepper album was released— a major cultural watershed-moment in my own life, as explained in this space a week or two ago—and during the first weeks of which Israel won the Six Day War. It was also the month of the Monterey Pop festival, the precursor to Woodstock that catapulted both Jimi Hendrix and The Who to real fame in America and brought them both, particularly Jimi, to my personal attention. It was, to say the least, an interesting month, that month of my fourteenth birthday. And, as if all the above weren’t enough, it was also the month I went with my mother to see MacBird!.

No one, not then and surely not now, actually thought or thinks that Lyndon Baines Johnson might possibly have played a role in the assassination of John Kennedy. Nor did anyone imagine (admittedly impossibly) that Johnson’s subsequent rise to real power was best understood as some sort of mystically-conceived prequel to House of Cards, the Netflix series that is precisely about the ascension to the presidency of an unprincipled, corrupt demagogue, the character of whose wife truly does feel as though it’s been modelled at least on part on the character of Lady Macbeth in Shakespeare’s play. But it mattered little that the point wasn’t actually to indict the sitting president of his predecessor’s murder, but merely to suggest the ultimate corruption of the political process…and the way that the fate of the nation had somehow come to rest in the hands of someone whose primary focus was not on the welfare of the nation he was charged with leading, but with the furtherance of his own personal political agenda. It was, as is all biting satire, overstated. But it caught the attention of the public, seemed somehow to capture the spirit of the time, and had a respectable 11-month off-Broadway run followed by productions in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and elsewhere.

Johnson, remembered now primarily for his “Great Society” legislative package and for his “War on Poverty,” was in 1967 primarily perceived by America’s radicalized youth as the bogeyman of the Vietnam War, as the man primarily responsible for the tens of thousands of American casualties—more than 22,000 American servicemen and women had died in Vietnam by the evening I saw MacBird! with my mother—in a war regarding the legitimacy and reasonableness of which the American people were, to say the very least, strongly divided. It wasn’t the fairest assessment. LBJ inherited Vietnam from Kennedy, who—at least in a sense—inherited it from Dwight Eisenhower. (The first American servicemen to lose their lives in Vietnam died in 1959.) And Johnson was, in a real sense, playing a zero-sum game by trying to fight a war in a distant land that had the inarguably noble goal of saving an ally from being overrun by Communist forces eager to reunite Vietnam as a single entity under the totalitarian leadership of its ruling cadre and, at the same time, not having the popular support at home to do the job successfully and effectively. Instead, we attempted to shore up the troops of the unpopular non-communist regime without understanding just how little support its leaders had among their own people. It was, therefore, a loser’s game. And, as happens when people play loser’s games, we lost. But that was still years in the future when I was making my way from the subway to the theater with my mother in June of 1967 and praying I didn’t run into anyone I knew from school on a theater date with my mom.

I was brought back to that whole experience just this week as I read about the turmoil the Public Theater’s production of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar has engendered, turmoil serious enough to prompt two major funders, the Bank of America and Delta Airlines, to withdraw their support for the production.  Of course, all this controversy will paradoxically make it impossible to get tickets to see the show, but that, of course, was hardly the goal...which was to signal the former sponsors’ lack of interest in having their corporate names attached to a biting piece of overtly political theater that is openly and sharply disrespectful of the current President and First Lady, and which they feared could possibly be taken as calling for the assassination of the former.

Gregg Henry plays Caesar as Trump, depicting him as a self-absorbed, preening tyrant who bathes in a golden bathtub that matches his shock of golden hair. His wife Calpurnia, played by Tina Benko, dresses extremely well and speaks with a distinctly Slovenian accept. You get the idea. Any student of Shakespeare knows that Julius Caesar is far more about Brutus than it is about its own title character, somewhat in the way The Merchant of Venice is far more about Shylock than Antonio, the actual merchant mentioned in the title. (Brutus has at least four times as many lines as Caesar, and the psychological tension—the exquisite psychological tension—that gives the play its relentless, unsettling energy derives from Brutus’s efforts to negotiate his way through a maze of conflicting obligations relating to comradeship, patriotism, honor, and duty.)

Nor is the notion of “updating” Julius Caesar to suggest its enduring relevancy anything new: as recently as 2012, the Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis featured Bjorn DuPaty dressed up and made up to look eerily like Barack Obama in the title role in a production that appears not to have offended any major corporate sponsors at all. Of course, the concept there was to warn the public about the vulnerability of our first black President, not to encourage his murder! So here we have the same play, the same lines, the same plot—and even the same update concept of presenting Caesar as our sitting president—and yet the Public Theater’s Shakespeare in the Park production has provoked twin tidal waves of emotion, one responding as though the production were openly to be promoting the murder of Donald Trump and the other as though the principle of free speech itself were somehow to depend on Delta Airlines renouncing its right to choose to which cultural events it wishes to lend its name and where it wishes to spend its money. Both sides are just a bit overstated.

The function of art in society is to irritate and to provoke. But to imagine that the specific thing the Public is trying to provoke with this production is the murder of President Trump is really to misunderstand the play.  The key to the play, both as I remember understanding it in eleventh grade when it was explained to us by Mr. Bergman and as I understand it today, is to show how, although the assassination of Caesar was undertaken by people who surely felt themselves to be acting in their nation’s best interest, Caesar’s murder a true catastrophe for Rome…and, at that, one from which the Roman Republic never recovered. Caesar was assassinated in 44 BCE. Civil war ensued. Within a few years, Caesar’s adopted heir, Octavian, emerged as emperor of the newly-invented Roman Empire and democracy was gone from Roman soil for millennia. By acting violently to preserve democracy, the conspirators managed to destroy it instead.

The enduring brilliance of Shakespeare’s play lies in the questions it manages obliquely to ask. How far can the citizens of a republic legitimately go to preserve their nation by removing a leader working at cross-purposes with what they perceive to be the nation’s best interests? Who among the citizenry have the right to self-select as the nation’s saviors…and at what point does it matter that the path to salvation lies in violence?  Does the fact that no assassins can say with certainty what the consequences of their lawlessness will be mean, ipso facto, that all instances of extra-judicial violence are morally wrong…or merely ill-advised? Students of the Bible will think of Pinchas, valorized in the Torah precisely for having been so repulsed by the decadent, vulgar behavior of a fellow Israelite that he took it upon himself personally to serve as that individual’s judge, jury, and executioner. Students of history who feel deeply regretful about the failure of the famous plot to murder Hitler in the summer of 1944 will surely not feel that it is always wrong to act unilaterally to defeat a brutal tyrant. The simplest of assertions—that violence is always wrong, and that citizens may never act on their own violently to solve their nation’s problems—becomes far more complex in the discussing.

To the extent that the Public Theater’s production of Julius Caesar will usher its audience into the complexities of that discussion, it should be hailed as a legitimate piece of provocative theater. To the extent it reminds all who view the play just how devastating the consequences of even the most well-intentioned act can be, it will serve not as a spur to violence but, just to the contrary, as an argument against violence and lawlessness. To the extent that the Public’s production promotes the view of its artistic director, Oskar Eustis, that Shakespeare’s ultimate point is that “those who attempt to defend democracy by undemocratic methods [will ultimately] pay a terrible price and destroy their republic,” it should be hailed by all as a civics lesson for us all.

[terryblount]

Octopath Traveller – PC Review

I am one of those weirdos who loves to buy JRPG’s off the Android store rather than taking refuge in the haven of emulation. Many frown when I tell them this, and some check if I remembered to take my medication that morning. Fact is, the store has built up an excellent collection, and these days I can often be found curled up on the couch, working my way through the classics on my tablet.

Through sheer luck, I just finished Dragon Quest IV, and it was fresh off this experience that I fired up my review copy of Octopath Traveller. After making my way through close to fifty hours or so in Octopath’s unforgettable world, I kept noticing the striking similarities it shares with the fourth Dragon Quest game, but also with many JRPG’s of the mid-nineties in general.

Initially I thought the developers, Square Enix and Acquire, had intended to pay homage to their successes in the early scene. After playing Octopath Traveller for myself, however, I realise this game is something more. It has everything we loved about the early days, but with a few tweaks, refinements and innovations that turns the experience into a ‘love letter’ for the genre as many have said.

If this does not impress you then I am done trying!

This game is truly exceptional, and now that we finally have a chance to play it on our favourite platform, I feel like no collection will be complete without it. I finally get why Nintendo insisted on Octopath Traveller as a timed Switch release since I know people who bought their console just to play this game. This is a stellar and accessible JRPG, and you should go try it as soon as you can.

Octopus caliper

I wasn’t being cute when I mentioned there are some hilarious resemblances between DQ IV and Octopath Traveller; one could easily write a whole article just comparing the two. Basically, Octopath Traveller takes the character driven chapters from the opening sections of DQ IV, and inflates it to fill an entire game. As such, this is certainly a JRPG driven forwards by its protagonists rather than its narrative.

When the game opens, you are asked to pick your first-in-command, who from then on represents the hero/heroine in your party. I measure a game’s consistency by opting for unconventional characters, so I selected Primrose, the dancer and former noblewoman (and nearly an exact copy of DQ IV’s Meena, but that’s another story).  Turns out she is also an escort with the ability to ‘allure’ people… definitely a first for me.

Be that as it may, Octopath’s wholehearted committed towards developing its characters is clear from the start.  As the story of Primrose’s life began to unfold, it was a heart-braking tragedy of seeking her father’s murderer. She has to descend to the lowest, most sordid pits of society to gain clues about the killer. Dignity means nothing in her task, nor does the appalling abuse from her handler.

Each character’s story has this deep, evocative writing.

Okay who was cutting onions in here, dammit!? In any case, the player then takes over her story when she finally makes a break in her search, and I helped her to escape the crummy pleasure house. From there, you can set off to any of the nearby villages to encounter seven other heroes and heroines that match Primrose’s story of ambition and self-completion.

This is the modus operandi for Octopath from there on in as you will steadily take each of the eight protagonists through the story of reaching their main obsession. As you probably guessed by now, this little companionship eventually begin to recognize how their paths are intertwined. The gang of misfits soon figure out that they are being set on a course by higher powers in order bring about the resurrection of a powerful force, and the destruction of the world.

Better get going!

The side-missions are rather dull, though. They mostly involve talking to one NPC, and then going through a trial and error system of trying each character’s unique ability on another NPC. For instance, the thief can steal something off them, the merchant can buy something off them, or the warrior can duel them.

While it was strangely hilarious challenging a bent-over old woman to a sword duel, I feel like these little side tasks could have been cut altogether. The payoff for their completion was rarely worth the squeeze.

En guard, you old bat! Give me the recipe for that potato pie or I stick you!

It all comes together

When protagonists themselves have to carry the show, they had better be interesting. While I agree that the eight narrative threads are not the most unique – bordering on cliché even – they have all the heart and depth to match Primrose’s tale. Each character has been given a well-written and interesting story that the player will complete over four chapters for each.

This is how Therion’s story begins.

This had the pleasant upside of keeping things fresh narrative wise. RPG’s tend to make the player work to keep up with their narratives and lore which is nice when it works, but there is always the risk of shattering the player’s  immersion in the game’s central plot. By moving the story forwards one character at a time, Octopath finds a welcome alternative to this hazard. By the time the player has filled up the gang, they will know each character like an old friend.

Unfortunately, it is here where Octopath also makes its biggest mistake. Namely, characters feel almost completely isolated and at odds with one another. They never appear in each other’s cut scenes, and your party will be limited, in most cases, to four players at a time. Jason Schreier in his Kotaku review made the remark that the game might as well be called ‘Quadpath Traveller,’ and I feel inclined to agree.

I get that having eight people crowded together on screen might not have worked, but the interactions between the heroes themselves are far too sparse. The game gave absolutely no reason for why a thief, merchant, apothecary, exotic dancer and a hunter would want to work together.

You might wanna stay home in that case, Tressa. Also, you can see the resemblance to Torneko’s story in Dragon Quest IV.

Worst of all, the experience you get from completing quests and defeating enemies is not shared with idle party members. I can imagine many players will find themselves swinging around a broad sword with a level 50 fighter who has to babysit a level 18 merchant or apothecary towards the home stretch. At least this compels the player to circulate more often between party members, which prevents sinking into that grinding slump where the same attacks are used over and over again.

These are few of my favourite things

I do not own a Nintendo Switch, so up until now I had to get by with play-throughs on YouTube. I never realised how these videos utterly failed to translate the beauty on display in this game. Perhaps it is the fact that my modest PC can run it in 4K at buttery-smooth frame rates, but now that I actually have it playing out in front of me, I must say I have never experienced anything quite like this.

Damn this game is pretty!

Octopath really is a landmark game in terms of how modern tech can fuse 2D sprites with 3D visual effects. The characters and in-game assets are virtually indistinguishable from what was on our screens in the late nineties, however the shadows, depth of field and lighting effects are all in 3D. It makes that old, pixel art style come to life in a way that dropped my jaw, and when you add the vignette effect on the edges of the screen, the overall look is almost dreamlike.

Then there is the audio. Boys and girls read this carefully because I do not say this lightly: This is the best music I have ever experienced in a role-playing game. It ranges from enthralling, up-beat, folk style guitar jingles matching the lawless cliff side landscapes, to lonesome, harp-infused overtures in the mystical forests scenes. Then there are full, orchestral symphonies to heighten the more sharp and intense moments during battles and dramatic plot moments. It makes for a stunning, aural backdrop to your gameplay, and it is worth the price of admission alone.

I should point out that I found the cast far too chatty during battles, though. Perhaps this would have been more bearable if not for how often they said the same thing. I can only hear Olberic yell “My blade is UNBENDING!” so many times, and the same goes for that awkward giggle Therion makes every time it comes to his turn to fight. Just turn down the dialogue I guess, which is a shame in light of the solid voice acting.

The combat

There is no need for me to go into the specifics of how the combat mechanics work as it is bog-standard, turn-based battles. Players attack enemies with either a melee weapon or a selection of abilities, and then wait for the opposition to make a move. The developers have gone through considerable lengths to make the menus and sub-menus streamlined, which I found to be a nice touch.

Typical combat scenario. Notice the little blue shield indicating how many hits until the enemy breaks, and that the vulnerabilities of each character has been displayed underneath.

What is actually worth explaining are the three distinct layers Square Enix and Acquire have built into the combat encounters. One layer is the offensive or defensive moves you act out towards enemies, the second is the boost points.

In Dragon Ball Z style, you can boost offensive or defensive moves by ‘charging up’ a character very much like Goku. Every turn grants you a free boost point for a maximum of five, and you can augment your character’s abilities up to a maximum of three levels. Whereas a sword attack or a lightning strike attack might normally do 20 damage for instance, it might do 35 at a level two boost, or 45 at a level three boost.

Little small, sorry, but the yellow dots in the top right corner show boost point available to that character.

Then there is the ‘break’ system which is the game’s strategy to familiarise the player with enemy weaknesses. Each enemy appears on screen with a shield displaying a number. When the player attacks this enemy’s weaknesses directly, this number drops steadily to zero. This is when the enemy experiences a resistance ‘break,’ meaning that they are stunned for a whole round of turns.

All three layers add up to a really engaging combat experience that ensures skilled turned-based veterans can refine the protagonists into a death squad without the risk of newcomers being overwhelmed. I just wish that battles were somehow not random since they occur just a tad too frequently. I would be hard pressed to call Octopath grindy, but repetitive certainly springs to mind.

One of the classics

I never intended to make Octopath Traveller sound like the perfect game. It’s not, but I must say that I think its first reception back in July 2018 was overly harsh. ‘Squeenix’ and Acquire have done a great job with bringing the unforgiving and cryptic JRPG’s of the early nineties forward a few generations. Best of all, they have somehow kept the essence of these games alive in a palpable way.

Boss battle. Bet you cannot tell which one the boss is…

Octopath Traveller looks absolutely gorgeous, is a musical masterpiece and never tries to overcomplicate things. It is rare that the hard-core Final Fantasy and Persona fanboys can sit at the same table as the more casual players who only dabble in this genre from time to time. In this case, Octopath makes one heck of a conversation piece, and it only weighs in at 3.5GB!

Beautiful music

Unique visuals

Character development

Overall simplicity

Somewhat repetitive

No character exchanges

Lackluster side quests

Experience only affects active party

          Playtime: About 54 hours . Admittedly this was a bit of a rushed playthrough, and I would recommend investing in leveling up

Computer Specs: Windows 10 64-bit computer using Nvidia GTX 1070, i5 4690K CPU, 16GB RAM – Played using an Xbox One Controller

Octopath Traveller – PC Review published first on https://touchgen.tumblr.com/

[thechasefiles]

The Chase Files Daily Newscap 5/15/2019

Good MORNING  #realdreamchasers! Here is The Chase Files Daily News Cap for Wednesday 15th May 2019. Remember you can read full articles for FREE via Barbados Today (BT) or Barbados Government Information Services (BGIS) OR by purchasing by purchasing a Midweek Nation Newspaper (MWN).

BSTU TO DISCUSS STUDENT ATTACKS ON TEACHERS – THE BARBADOS SECONDARY TEACHERS’ UNION (BSTU) has called out all of its members to a mass meeting today to discuss the serious issue of student-on-teacher violence. And the Ministry of Education will also be meeting with Prime Minister Mia Mottley and other stakeholders on Saturday to discuss that issue as well as many more school-related matters. Yesterday, the Ministry of Education announced that all schools would be closed at 1 p.m. today to facilitate the meeting. The BSTU will be presenting teachers with a protocol on what action they should take should they be threatened, feel threatened or attacked in anyway, when the meeting takes place at the Barbados Workers’ Union headquarters, Solidarity House. In a memo circulated to members yesterday, the BSTU noted that students’ attacks on teachers had reached “disturbing proportions”. (MWN)

CLASSES CUT  - Alarming reports of armed students, violence against teachers and a general air of lawlessness in some secondary schools have prompted at least one trade union to intensify its action. President of the Barbados Secondary Teachers’ Union (BSTU), Mary-anne Redman has called on its more than 600-strong membership and teachers across the country to take a stand in the interest of their safety. Redman’s rallying cry was made in an interview with Barbados TODAY ahead of Wednesday’s “mass meeting” scheduled for 1 p.m. at the Barbados Workers’ Union’s Solidarity House headquarters. The meeting is intended to address and provide solutions to the worrying trend of violence, which is reaching “disturbing proportions”. A memo addressed to the union’s general membership indicated that the BSTU’s officers have devised a protocol to guide teachers who feel “threatened or attacked in any way”. “As members of the BSTU, we must be proactive in safeguarding ourselves and those over whom we have duty of care,” said the release signed by the union’s PRO, Carseen Greenidge, President, Redman and General Secretary, Dawn Grosvenor. Revealing that over five incidents of violence towards teachers had been recorded for the year, Ms. Redman indicated that the union was forced to respond. One of the recent incidents, which reached the Magistrates’ court, involved a 14-year-old third form boy who attacked a teacher over a cell phone battery. He was remanded to the Government Industrial School after receiving a tongue-lashing from Chief Magistrate Christopher Birch. “We decided as a union that we had to speak to our members in this regard. The protocol will give teachers insight on what they should do when certain things happen and so on,” said Redman, who added that teachers are very enthusiastic about the meeting. “Many of them feel very threatened in the school environment. We heard of another incident today. A shop steward from another school called me just today to inform me about another incident. It is very scary, so people are looking forward to being able to voice their concerns. “But the meeting is not only to voice concerns. We are interested in coming up with possible recommendations to make at the level of the ministry and the schools. If we get our collective heads together, we can see how best we can untangle this problem, which requires short, medium and long-term action,” she added. The union’s stance has garnered support from the Ministry of Education, Technology and Vocational Training. In a statement released this afternoon, the ministry confirmed that all schools would be closed at 1 p.m. to facilitate the exercise. In addition, Minister of Education, Santia Bradshaw has announced that she will be arriving later this week to address numerous pressing issues relating to education. Under the previous Democratic Labour Party (DLP) government, teachers were often discouraged from holding such meetings during school hours and on some occasions had their salaries docked for taking such action. Minister of Education, Santia Bradshaw however revealed that she was in discussion with the Prime Minister over a number of “lingering issues” relating to education and welcomed the union’s initiative. “They would have indicated to us that they wanted to meet with their membership. This is a serious issue that is affecting teachers and affecting society and I would not want to take the approach taken in the past in terms of trying to obstruct the unions from meeting on issues like this,” she said, while giving some insight on her meeting with PM Mottley. “I believe that if we leave them unaddressed, it will be catastrophic for the educational system and amongst those are the issues relating to the schools’ plants and the violence in schools, whether that is student-on-student violence, student-on-teacher violence and even teacher-on-student violence. “I believe the Prime Minister, as chair of the Cabinet and Minister of Finance understands the serious nature of these issues and we wanted to discuss education generally, so she has set aside the time on Saturday for ministry officials, representatives of the unions and the principals of both primary and secondary schools to be able to join us to discuss a meaningful way forward as it relates to a number of issues facing the education system,” said Bradshaw. Tomorrow’s early closure of public schools will not affect Caribbean Examinations Council CSEC and CAPE exams, which will proceed as scheduled. The ministry’s press release however indicated that teachers are expected to continue with the marking of Barbados Secondary Entrance Examination papers and gave the assurance that all primary school football tournaments will continue as scheduled. (BT)

BCC EXAM POSTPONED AFTER LEAK – Tensions ran high among students at Barbados Community College (BCC) when the CORE 101 Ethics and Citizenship examination was halted at the last minute owing to an apparent leak of the paper, Barbados TODAY has learned. The examination which was set to be completed today was postponed after a breach in the examination regulations. The breach came from an assistant tutor who sent the examination as well as the responses to students via social media, Barbados TODAY understands. In a circular from president of the BCC Student Guild Kobie Broomes he stressed the way in which the examination breach was communicated led to general misinformation. The memo read: “The cause of the examination being compromised does not rest with the students and we ask that the college take the necessary steps to ensure this breach does not happen again.” Speaking to Barbados TODAY, Principal of the ‘Eyrie’, Howell’s Cross Road, St Michael institution Annette Alleyne said the school was investigating the breach. She said: “We started the investigations today and that is ongoing. I will be having another meeting with all the parties involved – the critical ones between today and Thursday. “Once we get to the bottom of it then we would be able to speak more clearly about what happened. “But at this stage, it would be inappropriate to cast aspersions on anybody without due process, but we do have procedures in place.” Alleyne told Barbados TODAY that the cancellation did affect the study body and she apologised on behalf of the college for the inconvenience. The exam will now be sat on Thursday morning at nine. (BT)

GOVT: FREDERICK ON ‘PRE-RETIREMENT LEAVE’ – Two separate arms of Government have come forward to defend a controversial decision to send a top civil servant on leave. But it appears there is no chance of former permanent secretary Seibert Frederick returning to the public service after being given notice of compulsory retirement at the end of his leave. In separate statements, the Prime Minister’s Press Secretary Roy Morris and Head of the Public Service Dr. Louis Woodroffe sought to explain the circumstances surrounding the decision to send Frederick on leave. The statements released by both Morris and Louis took aim at an article published Monday in the Daily Nation which, according to Morris, could lead Barbadians to believe that the decision was intended to punish Frederick, “for some breach of rules of the public service”. Instead, Morris said: “PS Frederick, a veteran of the public service, had accumulated 198 days (approximately six months) of vacation leave that was still to be taken, having not taken any holiday for the past three years. Additionally, the Ministry of the Public Service has no record of Mr Frederick having applied for a deferment of leave as required. “In any event, since he will reach the age of 67 years on September 30, 2019, when compulsory retirement will kick in, the ministry had no choice but to ask Mr Frederick to take the outstanding leave from Monday May 13, 2019, in order that all time owed would be exhausted by the effective date of his retirement.” Government’s decision to place Frederick on leave became controversial, when a memo to staff was circulated on social media in which he indicated he felt disrespected by the manner in which the matter was handled. Frederick’s memo read in part: “The information was a real shocker to me as permanent secretary, since it did not give me time to tell my fellow workers or attend to any matters on my desk. “The manner in which it was done was downright disrespectful.” Morris responded by saying that prior to being placed on leave, the Director General in the Ministry of the Public Service Gail Atkins discussed the issue by telephone with Frederick. The Press Secretary said: “Additionally, last Friday, prior to dispatching the letter directly to Mr Frederick by messenger, out of respect, the next most senior officer in the Ministry of the Public Service in the absence of the Director General also discussed the issue with Mr Frederick on the telephone, explaining that based on instructions, deferment at this stage was not an option. “Every effort was made by officials at Ministry to honor the exemplary service and seniority of Mr. Frederick as a public officer for the past four decades, and to ensure that as an individual he was shown the respect that should be accorded every officer in the Public Service. “In the final analysis though, it has to be recognized that for the Public Service to function effectively and fairly, order has to be a hallmark of the way each officer performs his or her duties, regardless of that person’s status.” In a separate statement, Head of the Public Service Dr Louis Woodrooffe argued that Frederick had in fact submitted an application for retiring awards on April 26 this year. Frederick later proceeded on leave, which is due to him until September 29 this year, the statement said. “This period of leave will be followed by his compulsory retirement from the Public Service” on September 30,” the statement added. “Mr. Frederick is therefore on pre-retirement leave.” (BT)

PAY DAY – Eighty-three retrenched workers of the Ministry of Transport and Works are now set to receive their gratuity payments. The workers who were severed from their positions under the Barbados Economic Recovery Transformation Programme, commonly referred to as BERT, went home without receiving the expected payment because they had not reached the pensionable age. Today, Minister in the Ministry of Finance Ryan Straughn piloted the Public Service Retrenched Workers Bill 2019 in Parliament making provision for the Accountant General to begin making payments to the affected workers from Government’s Consolidated Fund. “This particular bill relates to those employees for whom their service would have exceeded ten years in that particular ministry which is different from the set of persons who would have been retrenched otherwise. Therefore, there was some pension consideration with respect to packages. “This bill is seeking to make available to those persons the gratuity as it relates to the service they would have provided to Government within that ministry. So therefore Clause 2 speaks to the Accountant General being authorized to make the payments of gratuity and pensions out of the Consolidated Fund,” he said. Straughn related that in normal circumstances public officers would only receive their gratuity at retirement. He however pointed out that in light of the October 2018 restructuring of the public service the Mia Mottley administration decided it was necessary that this category of workers receive their payments post haste. “The Government of Barbados has taken a decision that those persons whom the retrenchment exercise impacted who have served more than ten years that they be given their gratuity as part of the compensation.” The Member of Parliament for Christ Church East Central however made it clear that the retrenched workers would have to wait until 60 to be able to receive their pension. “Persons will still have to wait until 60 for when they will receive the reduced pension but this bill is seeking Parliamentary approval to pay the gratuity part of that now so as to make sure that they [Government] are consistent with good industrial relations. It is clear Sir that while it is unfortunate that persons would have had to lose their jobs under the BERT programme, Government cares about the wellbeing of those persons and we feel quite strongly that these gratuities should be paid now,” he said. (BT)

BWU: WE WANT LABOUR REFORM TOO – The two organisations at polar opposites of the labour spectrum are not on the same page as to which of the nation’s laws need reform, even as they agree on an overhaul.One day after the Barbados Employers Confederation (BEC) complained that a number of the labour laws were in fact counter-productive and skewed against the employer, General Secretary of the Barbados Workers Union (BWU), Senator Toni Moore is arguing that it is the workers who are being disadvantaged by the laws. Senator Moore told Barbados TODAY that laws such as the new Employment Rights Act contain too many loopholes and grey areas that put workers at a disadvantage. “What we recognise from the BWU is that there are a number of labour laws that need to be revised, starting with the most recent one, the Employment Rights Act. (BT)

MAKE HEALTHIER FOOD CHOICES – Barbados is now one step closer to taking a big chunk out of its almost $700 million food import bill. This was signalled yesterday evening with the launch of the Farmer’s Empowerment and Enfranchisement Drive (FEED), when Prime Minister Mia Mottley again raised concerns about the eating habits of Barbadians. Acknowledging the presence of almost her entire Cabinet at the event held at the picturesque Sunbury Plantation Great House in St Philip, the Prime Minister said it was extremely important for the country to reduce its mammoth food import bill. In her brief featured address, she said for this to occur there also needed to be a change in the way people ate. “We need to reduce the amount of foreign exchange that this country spends and we cannot afford to have a food import bill of $685 million to be precise for 2018, of which vegetables and fruits account for just under 10 per cent at $66 million roughly. “It is simply not good enough and Barbadians can do better if we pull together and work together…,” Mottley told the gathering. “But that’s not the only part of it. The second part of it is that we need to change how people eat and I think we all know that how we eat determines how we feed our bodies.” PM Mottley said she was not satisfied with the progress pointing out that even with much healthier options available to them, most Barbadians were still choosing to consume unhealty foods. “There are too many people eating English potato chips on a Thursday, Friday and Saturday night in this country. There are too many people who can eat baked sweet potato instead or can eat eddoes or eddoe chips. “There are so many things that we can do and it hurts my heart to see that we are not making sufficient progress family by family, individual by individual…,” Mottley pointed out. While pledging Government’s commitment and support to the initiative, she said the time had come for Barbadians to take control of their health as a healthy country would translate into a wealthy country. “We believe we have the elements to make that change and it is up to the rest of Barbados to join us on this journey. Let this now be the mission of a country to take control of its health, take control of its prosperity and take control of its economic ability at the same time and in so doing make a better society and a stronger people by giving them options,” she said. The FEED is a three-year programme conceptualised by Ministry of Agriculture and Food Security which focusses on boosting primary agricultural production through the combination of traditional and contemporary farming methods. Among its objectives is to facilitating improved access to land and increasing foreign exchange earnings from agricultural exports. (BT)

WHITE OAK ‘NO BLACK HAT’ – A key economic advisor to the Prime Minister has come out fiercely defending the country’s relationship with two-man advisory firm White Oak, whose unprecedented fee for negotiating Barbados’ sovereign debt has gained international scrutiny. In an article published by the London-based Financial Times (FT) last week, Barbados external creditors were reportedly fuming at what they called “absurd” $27 million advisory fees for a boutique firm. Special Envoy to the Prime Minister on Investment and Financial Services, Professor Avinash Persaud declared that he was “disturbed” by the article, written by New York-based reporter, Colby Smith. Professor Persaud defended FT’s classification of White Oak as a “little known firm” against other questions raised about Government’s decision to enlist its services. In a letter to FT, he said: “You refer to White Oak Advisory as a little-known firm, but neglect to point out that of the 14 sovereign restructurings in the world since 2005, White Oak has advised seven of them.” Persaud declared White Oak “an obvious choice for Barbdos”. The economist questioned the timing of the potentially damaging report, in which external creditors complained that the fees were at the same level as those paid to Greece, a country restructuring a debt 40 times larger than Barbados’. Professor Persaud argued: “We weighed costs with benefits. Following the domestic part of the debt restructuring, Barbados’ debt has fallen from 175 per cent of gross domestic product including arrears, the third highest in the world, to 125 per cent of GDP and is on track for less than 100 per cent. Greece’s debt remains the second highest in the world.” Instead, he credited the advisory firm with playing a key role in stabilising the country’s financial system, allowing Government to increase welfare and pension payments and “ringfence” public health and education, “in the most shared economic adjustment in history”. Last Friday, the Prime Minister’s Press Secretary, Roy Morris, said the article’s intention was to “distract and distort in order to put pressure on the Government to cave in during the negotiations to restructure the foreign debt”. Democratic Labour Party leader Verla Depeiza, who said the questions raised in FT’s article were consistent with concerns raised by the party almost a year ago. Economist Jeremy Stephen also described the article as concerning, arguing that disgruntled external creditors through the international media, could damage Barbados’ perception as a hub for international investment and urged Government to speedily reach agreement. (BT)

OFF TO COURT – Despite failing to reach an agreement with owner of Liquidation Centre Asha Ms RamMirchandani on a suitable price, the compulsory acquisition of the property by Government will continue. That is the word from Attorney General Dale Marshall, who said it will be left to the Supreme Court to decide what amount will be paid for the sale of the beachfront property. Marshall made the revelation today as he sought to dispel a notion by Opposition Leader Bishop Joseph Atherley that Mirchandani had opposed the acquisition of the land to facilitate the construction of the 350-room Hyatt Centric Hotel at Bay Street, St Michael. During debate on Section 5 of the Land Acquisition Act Cap. 228 related to the land at Lower Bay Street, St Michael this afternoon, Atherley told Parliament he had been informed that while the owner of the property had given a price in the range of $30 million, Government had countered by offering $12 million. He called on Government to reveal details of the proposed transaction. “I have not heard what the Government’s view or what after Government’s findings is a fair market value attached to the property…what I do hear is that Government has attached a value based on land tax assessment to the property despite the fact that the current owners obtained a valuation from a prominent private valuer that is three times the value of that which Government seeks to pay the current owners,” Atherley contended. “Did the current private owners obtain a valuation suggesting a valuation in the 30s of millions and is Government offering a $12 million purchase price?” he further questioned. The Opposition Leader charged that the property was beachfront and “of high value” and that the acquisition meant the Liquidation Centre would have to relocate after operating on that spot for almost three decades. But in his rebuttal, the Attorney General who neither confirmed nor denied the figures put forward by Atherley, maintained that such information was not made public. He admitted that the two parties had failed to reach an agreement on the price of the land and said the matter would now be placed in the hands of the Supreme Court. “You cannot agree on the value and you approach the court and ask the court to settle the dispute between the parties and I don’t think the Leader of the Opposition would argue that a court is not a good place to settle disputes between parties,” Marshall said. “So if you’re going to settle a dispute between major corporations in Barbados…be it small or large, I’m sure the Supreme Court of Judicature is well able to discharge its lawfully-conferred powers to settle the matter of acquisition.” The Attorney General also argued that the owners of the land had no issues with the acquisition, but were merely seeking a fair deal. Pending a decision from the court, Marshall said the acquisition would continue, as Barbados badly needed investments such as the Hyatt to help turn around the economy. “In the meantime, the acquisition will go ahead because the business of rebuilding Barbados stops for no man. “Let us focus the minds of the Barbadian people on what our real issues are. This is the first acquisition that this administration has done and I’m happy that we’re doing it at the cusp of our first year in office because it is being done as part and parcel of a truly important developmental imperative,” the Attorney General insisted. “We need to get this country building again, we need to get this country working again. We need hotels on our finest beaches and not carparks. We need investment in our country and more from the private sector than from the Government.” However, both Atherley and Mirchandani received a tongue-lashing from Minister of Housing, Lands and Rural Development George Payne. In what became a heated back and forth at times with the Opposition Leader, resulting in the Speaker of the House Arthur Holder making many interjections, Payne claimed Atherley had made several damning comments. Additionally, he said the owner had disputed the land tax charges from the Barbados Revenue Authority although it had valued the land considerably lower than what they were now asking Government to pay. “Sometimes you have to put people in their place and he came in here making several accusations. They were not just accusations against this Cabinet, the accusations were against the Government and the entire people of Barbados,” Payne said. He revealed that Mirchandani had disputed charges from BRA which had valued the property at $2 and $3 million, but was now asking Government to pay in excess of $30 million for the same land. (BT)

SHIPS WARNED AGAINST DUMPING – Ships operating in Barbados’ territorial waters must adhere to the standards set out by Government in relation to pollution. Minister of Maritime Affairs and the Blue Economy Kirk Humphrey issued a word of caution in this regard to the regional cargo shipping agency Tropical Shipping, whose newest ship was christened in the Bridgetown Port yesterday. Godmother of the MV Tropic Island, Barbadian Silma Lashley, who has worked with Tropical Shipping for 38 years, performed the traditional christening ritual of breaking a bottle of champagne on the side of the ship, which will be using Barbados as its trans-shipment point. Humphrey told the local and visiting Tropical Shipping officials that Barbados had crafted “a new vision that speaks to innovation, becoming a green place to do business and being the best by the year 2033”. He added it was Government’s intention to see the island become the “best port in the world”. “But I also feel that in the context of that, there is a responsibility being placed on the people with whom we do business,” the minister said, as he noted there were countries which had allowed ships into their territorial waters which engaged in pollution and dumping. (MWN)

LEGAL THREAT – A man and a church have been threatened with legal action if they conduct a memorial service for Shane Brathwaite, who was gunned down on February 27. That is the latest twist in the ongoing dispute between the deceased’s biological parents, Joyce Brathwaite and Elton Mayers, and Kelston Rollins, the man who raised him. An advertisement appeared in the last SUNDAY SUN announcing that a memorial service would be held for Shane today at 3:30 p.m. at the Church of the Holy Trinity, Sandford, St Philip. However, another advertisement appeared in yesterday’s DAILY NATION indicating that the memorial service was not authorised. “Take notice that we, Ms Joyce Brathwaite [of New York] and Mr Elton Mayers, of Bath Land, St John, the parents of the late Shane Andre Brathwaite, have not authorised anyone to conduct a memorial service on his behalf . . . . Legal action will be taken without delay.” (MWN)

FATHER PULLS BAIL ON SON AFTER DISRESPECT – His blatant disrespect towards his father who stood as his surety cost a 21-year-old man his freedom today. The surety withdrew as guarantor for the $10,000 bail for Shamar Shaquane Erwin Inniss, of 1st Avenue Prescod Bottom, Hindsbury Road, St Michael when the cases against him were called up in the No. 2 District ‘A’ Magistrates’ Court. Inniss has been on bail for two criminal charges – that he on April 1, 2017 unlawfully and maliciously wounded Rouel Bostic and committed the same crime against Christopher Massiah on April 18, 2017. He has maintained his innocence on both charges. However, as the accused stood in the dock today his surety who is also his dad informed the magistrate that Inniss was being disrespectful to him. He also told his son that despite this, he was still willing to stand as surety if he agreed to enroll in a drug treatment programme. Inniss said he was not interested in joining such a programme. His father withdrew as his surety which resulted in Inniss being remanded until June 11 as he had no one new to sign on his behalf. (BT)

DRUGS PLANTS COST MAN $5,000 – A 45-year-old man has to pay a steep price for cultivating 20 plants of marijuana in his backyard. Mark Vernon Randolph Sealy, of Stratford Hill, Pinelands, St Michael must pay $5,000 in six months or spend time at Dodds. The fine was imposed on him after he also pleaded guilty to charges of possession, possession with intent to supply and possession with intent to traffick the illegal drug. Police executed a warrant as Sealy’s residence on May 13 and while searching a dresser, a Nescafe container was found with compressed cannabis. “I does grow that weed to smoke it officer,” he reportedly told police. The substance weighed 62 grammes. A further search led police to his backyard where cannabis plants ranging from two to eight feet in height and weighing eight pounds were discovered. “That is my weed I plant them hey and I guilty,” he is reported to have said when asked to account for the illicit substance. Magistrate Kristie Cuffy-Sargeant reprimanded and discharged him on the possession charge, and convicted, reprimanded and discharged him on the supply and trafficking offences. The fine was imposed on the cultivation charge which carries an 18-month prison sentence if left unpaid. Sealy must return to the District ‘A’ Magistrates’ Court on November 14 to show the magistrate his receipt. (BT)

TEENAGER ON A GUN CHARGE – Another Barbadian youth has been remanded to Dodds on a firearm charge. Eighteen-year-old Donte Tyrelle Alleyne, of Block 20E Downhill Drive, Eden Lodge, St Michael appeared before the District ‘A’ Magistrates’ Court this morning accused of having a firearm and six rounds of ammunition in his possession on May 13. He was not required to plea to the indictable charges after Magistrate Kristie Cuffy-Sargeant read them. As he left the precincts of the court the teenager who was being escorted in handcuffs by a prison officer looked to his left and shouted: “Tough love dawg. Shout everybody for me.” The accused will re-appear in court on June 11. (BT)

HARRIS ON $3,000 BAIL – Two criminal cases against a 26-year-old Christ Church resident have been adjourned until July 15. Mario Leon Harris, of Bartletts Tenantry, Sargeant’s Village is accused of unlawfully wounding Renaldo Archer on October 2, 2018 and stealing a bangle worth $3,000 belonging to Maureen Doyle on December 11, 2018. There were no objections to bail after the charges were read to the accused in the No. 2 District ‘A’ Magistrates’ Court yesterday. He secured bail in the sum of $3,000 to return before Magistrate Kristie Cuffy-Sargeant in two months. (BT)

NATION TO BID NURSE FAREWELL FRIDAY – Late Barbados and West Indies batting star Seymour Nurse will receive an official funeral at Kensington Oval on Friday. Nurse, who passed away at the age of 85 last week, played for the West Indies between 1960 and 1969.  He played 29 Tests scoring 2,523 runs at an average of 47.60 with six centuries and 10 half-centuries and was part of a strong West Indies middle order in the 1960s. Nurse’s contributions continued long after he left the pitch as he went on to serve as a mentor and coach to many great West Indies players and was also an administrator and selector.  His body will be in repose at Empire Club, Pavilion Road, St Michael tomorrow from 4 p.m. to 6 p.m. and at Cricket Legends of Barbados, Fontabelle, St Michael, on Thursday, May 16, at the same time.   (BT)

For daily or breaking news reports follow us on Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter & Facebook. That’s all for today folks. There are 230 days left in the year. Shalom! #thechasefilesdailynewscap #thechasefiles# dailynewscapsbythechasefiles

[theconservativebrief]

Iowa Rep. Steve King has endorsed a candidate in the Toronto mayoral race. The candidate he’s backing? A “white genocide” conspiracy theorist who was fired from a Canadian far-right website for appearing on a neo-Nazi podcast.

Faith Goldy, an excellent candidate for Toronto mayor, pro Rule of Law, pro Make Canada Safe Again, pro balanced budget, &…BEST of all, Pro Western Civilization and a fighter for our values. @FaithGoldy will not be silenced. https://t.co/uqkeaUjm7i

— Steve King (@SteveKingIA) October 17, 2018

The candidate in question, Faith Goldy, won’t win the race to run Canada’s largest city — she’s currently polling at 1.5 to 6 percent of the vote, far behind the frontrunner, John Tory.

But in King’s endorsement of Goldy — a white supremacist candidate running for office in a foreign country — the longtime Republican Congress member is once again wandering blithely into the world of white nationalism and outright racism.

Before she threw her hat in the ring for the Toronto mayoralty in July 2018 (and before she started crashing mayoral debates she wasn’t invited to because she hasn’t followed the rules), Goldy was a fairly prominent figure in conservative media in Canada.

Until August 2017, she worked as a journalist for the Rebel Media, a far-right site founded in 2015 that took its inspiration from Breitbart. Goldy, Gavin McInnes — formerly with the Rebel and founder of the nationalist fight club the Proud Boys — and the site’s founder, Ezra Levant, were laser-focused on the purported dangers of Canadian immigrants who are practicing Muslims, urging Canada to create a “firewall against Shariah creep.”

From The Rebel Media.

From the National Post:

Under Levant, The Rebel has become a global platform for an extreme anti-Muslim ideology known as counter-jihad. It’s a far-right fringe theory founded on the belief that Muslims are deliberately invading the West, biding their time, then overtaking communities and imposing Shariah Law.

The website also hired one of the major promoters of the Pizzagate conspiracy theory (who then plagiarized from Unite the Right leader Jason Kessler), and Levant has appeared on Alex Jones’s Infowars show.

But Goldy apparently went too far, even for Ezra Levant and the Rebel.

In August 2017, Goldy attended the violent “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, after reportedly being told not to do so. In Periscope posts from the event and in an interview with alt-right figurehead Stefan Molyneux, she defended the rally’s organizers, praised white supremacist Richard Spencer, insulted the counterprotesters, and marveled at the “rising” of “white racial consciousness” she witnessed.

On Spencer’s “manifesto” for the rally, she told Molyneux:

It was 20 points around which they could all just rally: everything from race, the JQ [Jewish Question] — which is of course, is something the alt-right spends a lot of time talking about — economics, women and sex, globalism. And they just had a few sentences under each discussing their stance. And I think it’s kind of interesting because of the fact that there has been some, there certainly are some points of contention within the alt-right. Some people who spend more time, say, focusing on the JQ, some people who are, you know, more respect women as opposed to, like, anti-feminists to the point of being, let’s say, anti-woman to a degree.

The “Jewish Question,” or “JQ,” is common parlance for anti-Semites and neo-Nazis, as the term stems from the phrase “Final Solution to the Jewish Question,” a reference to the Holocaust.

According to Levant, who is Jewish, Goldy’s decision to go to Charlottesville was a mistake that could have been forgiven. But then news broke that Goldy had appeared on a neo-Nazi podcast from the Daily Stormer website.

The news was a disaster for the Rebel, which was already reeling from a backlash from conservative Canadian politicians over the site’s soft handling of Charlottesville. And though Goldy apologized for going to Charlottesville (sort of), her appearance on a neo-Nazi podcast was too much for Levant.

In a video posted to the site to announce Goldy’s firing, Levant said: “I saw the news that she went on a podcast from the Daily Stormer, and it was just too far. So we said goodbye.”

[embedded content]

Since her firing from the Rebel, Goldy has wholeheartedly embraced the white supremacist far right, focusing on a “white genocide” ideology that purports white people to be an endangered species because of immigration and “diversity,” in her terminology.

For example, she recited the “14 Words” on an alt-right podcast in December, saying afterward, “I don’t see that that’s controversial. Is that bad?” The “14 Words” — “We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children” — originated with white supremacist David Lane, who murdered a Jewish radio host in 1984 and wrote the “White Genocide Manifesto” (which includes the phrase) while in prison.

In April, Goldy went on another far-right podcast and promoted a book (For My Legionaries, written by Romanian fascist leader Corneliu Codreanu in 1937) that advocated for the “elimination of Jews” and “putting an end to their unnatural, parasitic existence.” She described the book on the podcast as being “a little bit edgier” than some of the other books she recommended.

While she later attempted to retract her endorsement by saying that there was a “disturbing line” in the book she just hadn’t gotten to yet, she had apparently not noted that the table of contents included a section called “The Jewish Problem.”

Faith Goldy has retracted her endorsement of an anti-Semitic book claiming she was unaware of “a disturbing line later in that book.” Meanwhile, the book’s table of contents: pic.twitter.com/OVTKU1w1E3

— Sean Craig (@sdbcraig) April 4, 2018

In short, as the Washington Examiner’s Tiana Lowe wrote on Wednesday:

Goldy doesn’t deal in principled protectionism, opposition to lawless immigration, or capitalist conservatism. No, she believes the world’s population, resources, and space are a zero-sum game, and that the growth of non-white communities is tantamount to white genocide.

So why did Steve King endorse her? Because King and Goldy share the same white supremacist ideology.

As I wrote in June, Steve King’s racism — from retweeting neo-Nazis to, yes, endorsing white supremacists for offices in countries in which he does not reside — isn’t a particularly well-kept secret:

King keeps a small version of the Confederate flag on his desk. (Never mind that Iowa was a Union state during the Civil War.) In 2008 King said that if Barack Hussein Obama won the presidency, “The radical Islamists, the al Qaeda … would be dancing in the streets in greater numbers than they did on Sept. 11 because they would declare victory in this war on terror.” He later explained that they would supposedly do so because of Obama’s middle name.

In 2016 King filed an amendment to block efforts to place the image of abolitionist luminary Harriet Tubman on the $20 bill: He criticized “liberal activism on the part of the president that’s trying to identify people by categories, and he’s divided us on the lines of groups.” And in a 2017 interview, speaking about upcoming demographic changes whereby nonwhite Americans would surpass white Americans in population, he said, “I will predict that Hispanics and the blacks will be fighting each other before that happens.” (During that same interview, he recommended right-wight strategist Steve Bannon’s favorite and extremely racist book, The Camp of the Saints.)

(On Wednesday, King explained his retweets of white supremacists by saying that he would retweet the devil if the devil said he loved Jesus.)

While many mainstream conservatives have condemned both King and his endorsement of a “flagrantly racist and anti-Republican candidate,” the Republican Party itself has done absolutely nothing.

I reached out to House Speaker Paul Ryan’s office and was told that asking about King’s endorsement of a white supremacist candidate in Canada was a “political question” and thus should be directed to Ryan’s political team.

For the record, King isn’t the only Republican figure to fete Goldy. Rudy Guiliani, President Donald Trump’s attorney and a former GOP presidential candidate, was photographed with her in September.

Original Source -> Steve King endorses a bona fide white supremacist for Toronto mayor

via The Conservative Brief

[castyourline]

As an atheist, I truly believe Africa needs God

Before Christmas I returned, after 45 years, to the country that as a boy I knew as Nyasaland. Today it's Malawi, and The Times Christmas Appeal includes a small British charity working there. Pump Aid helps rural communities to install a simple pump, letting people keep their village wells sealed and clean. I went to see this work. 

It inspired me, renewing my flagging faith in development charities. But travelling in Malawi refreshed another belief, too: one I've been trying to banish all my life, but an observation I've been unable to avoid since my African childhood. It confounds my ideological beliefs, stubbornly refuses to fit my world view, and has embarrassed my growing belief that there is no God. 

Now a confirmed atheist, I've become convinced of the enormous contribution that Christian evangelism makes in Africa: sharply distinct from the work of secular NGOs, government projects and international aid efforts. These alone will not do. Education and training alone will not do. In Africa Christianity changes people's hearts. It brings a spiritual transformation. The rebirth is real. The change is good.

I used to avoid this truth by applauding - as you can - the practical work of mission churches in Africa. It's a pity, I would say, that salvation is part of the package, but Christians black and white, working in Africa, do heal the sick, do teach people to read and write; and only the severest kind of secularist could see a mission hospital or school and say the world would be better without it. I would allow that if faith was needed to motivate missionaries to help, then, fine: but what counted was the help, not the faith.

But this doesn't fit the facts. Faith does more than support the missionary; it is also transferred to his flock. This is the effect that matters so immensely, and which I cannot help observing.

First, then, the observation. We had friends who were missionaries, and as a child I stayed often with them; I also stayed, alone with my little brother, in a traditional rural African village. In the city we had working for us Africans who had converted and were strong believers. The Christians were always different. Far from having cowed or confined its converts, their faith appeared to have liberated and relaxed them. There was a liveliness, a curiosity, an engagement with the world - a directness in their dealings with others - that seemed to be missing in traditional African life. They stood tall.

At 24, travelling by land across the continent reinforced this impression. From Algiers to Niger, Nigeria, Cameroon and the Central African Republic, then right through the Congo to Rwanda, Tanzania and Kenya, four student friends and I drove our old Land Rover to Nairobi.

We slept under the stars, so it was important as we reached the more populated and lawless parts of the sub-Sahara that every day we find somewhere safe by nightfall. Often near a mission.

Whenever we entered a territory worked by missionaries, we had to acknowledge that something changed in the faces of the people we passed and spoke to: something in their eyes, the way they approached you direct, man-to-man, without looking down or away. They had not become more deferential towards strangers - in some ways less so - but more open.

This time in Malawi it was the same. I met no missionaries. You do not encounter missionaries in the lobbies of expensive hotels discussing development strategy documents, as you do with the big NGOs. But instead I noticed that a handful of the most impressive African members of the Pump Aid team (largely from Zimbabwe) were, privately, strong Christians. “Privately” because the charity is entirely secular and I never heard any of its team so much as mention religion while working in the villages. But I picked up the Christian references in our conversations. One, I saw, was studying a devotional textbook in the car. One, on Sunday, went off to church at dawn for a two-hour service.

It would suit me to believe that their honesty, diligence and optimism in their work was unconnected with personal faith. Their work was secular, but surely affected by what they were. What they were was, in turn, influenced by a conception of man's place in the Universe that Christianity had taught.

There's long been a fashion among Western academic sociologists for placing tribal value systems within a ring fence, beyond critiques founded in our own culture: “theirs” and therefore best for “them”; authentic and of intrinsically equal worth to ours.

I don't follow this. I observe that tribal belief is no more peaceable than ours; and that it suppresses individuality. People think collectively; first in terms of the community, extended family and tribe. This rural-traditional mindset feeds into the “big man” and gangster politics of the African city: the exaggerated respect for a swaggering leader, and the (literal) inability to understand the whole idea of loyal opposition.

Anxiety - fear of evil spirits, of ancestors, of nature and the wild, of a tribal hierarchy, of quite everyday things - strikes deep into the whole structure of rural African thought. Every man has his place and, call it fear or respect, a great weight grinds down the individual spirit, stunting curiosity. People won't take the initiative, won't take things into their own hands or on their own shoulders.

How can I, as someone with a foot in both camps, explain? When the philosophical tourist moves from one world view to another he finds - at the very moment of passing into the new - that he loses the language to describe the landscape to the old. But let me try an example: the answer given by Sir Edmund Hillary to the question: Why climb the mountain? “Because it's there,” he said.

To the rural African mind, this is an explanation of why one would not climb the mountain. It's... well, there. Just there. Why interfere? Nothing to be done about it, or with it. Hillary's further explanation - that nobody else had climbed it - would stand as a second reason for passivity.

Christianity, post-Reformation and post-Luther, with its teaching of a direct, personal, two-way link between the individual and God, unmediated by the collective, and unsubordinate to any other human being, smashes straight through the philosphical/spiritual framework I've just described. It offers something to hold on to to those anxious to cast off a crushing tribal groupthink. That is why and how it liberates.

Those who want Africa to walk tall amid 21st-century global competition must not kid themselves that providing the material means or even the knowhow that accompanies what we call development will make the change. A whole belief system must first be supplanted.

And I'm afraid it has to be supplanted by another. Removing Christian evangelism from the African equation may leave the continent at the mercy of a malign fusion of Nike, the witch doctor, the mobile phone and the machete.

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/as-an-atheist-i-truly-believe-africa-needs-god-3xj9bm80h8m

[cryptobully-blog]

Can The Blockchain Turn Pepe The Frog Into Modern Art?

http://cryptobully.com/can-the-blockchain-turn-pepe-the-frog-into-modern-art/

Can The Blockchain Turn Pepe The Frog Into Modern Art?

Illustration by Kelsey Dake

Editor’s note: This article includes depictions of a cartoon character that many deem offensive due to its association with white supremacist groups. Some links in this story lead to offensive material.

Pepe the Frog started as just a chilled-out amphibian with a chilled-out catchphrase: “Feels good man.” That was back in 2005, when he first appeared in a comic series called “Boy’s Club.” When the comic debuted, Pepe and his cartoon roommates dabbled in “laconic psychedelia, childlike enchantment, drug-fueled hedonism, and impish mischief,” according the publisher of a book compiling the strip.

But even cartoon amphibians can go through a metamorphosis. Pepe soon took on a life of his own, and his mischief became much less impish. The image board 4chan.org — a sort of twisted, anarchic incubator for memes ranging from wholesome to hateful — adopted Pepe and relentlessly remixed and repurposed him for far different purposes than the character’s creator, Matt Furie, had intended. Users depicted Pepe as a crudely drawn, bright-green frog with enormous eyes and a wide mouth, often shown looking vaguely sad or slightly sly. He became so broadly popular that he even started showing up in celebrities’ Twitter feeds.

But soon those remixes included hateful messages. Ahead of the 2016 presidential election, the frog was co-opted by the so-called alt-right, a loose collection of conservative, populist, white supremacist, neo-fascist and neo-Nazi groups. Pepe became an unofficial mascot of a racist and anti-Semitic campaign in support of the candidacy of Donald Trump. The frog had long since lost its aura of childlike enchantment and had donned MAGA hats and SS insignia. Pepe is now listed as a hate symbol by the Anti-Defamation League. Furie lawyered up, trying to wrench his creation back to its original status, but the alt-right fought back. When Richard Spencer, the white supremacist and alt-right figurehead, was famously punched in the face on a D.C. street on President Trump’s Inauguration Day, Spencer was explaining his frog lapel pin, saying, “It’s Pepe. He’s become kind of a symbol —” before being cut off as the punch landed.

Now one group of people wants to make Pepe symbolize something else: the future. Artists and speculators are building a new way to make and sell art, trying to repurpose a cartoon popularized by a message board so lawless that it scared away advertisers and turn it into a viable commercial enterprise.

Gathering in a digital bazaar for Pepe-related images, they’re trying to use the blockchain to create a new kind of art market, one that uses crypto technology and allows anyone to submit their work to be bought, sold and traded. The people involved hope to prove that crypto can be used to shift the art world’s balance of power, putting control into the hands of artists, rather than galleries or commercial third parties. The art that they’re selling, though, depicts that same frog that was featured in so many racist and anti-Semitic memes. But that hasn’t deterred the artists, many of whom believe they’re returning Pepe to his original, chilled-out roots. And they’ve sold over $1.2 million worth of his image in the process. That’s about 100 million in Pepe Cash. Yes, Pepe Cash.

DANK PEPENo. issued: 420

Most of this Pepe buying and selling happens through a website called Rare Pepe Wallet. The site features about 1,600 “Rare Pepes,” with more added regularly. They depict Pepe in all manner of memetic mashups and aesthetic forms. Many, but not all, look like trading cards. There’s smiling blonde Trump Pepe. There’s Pepe as Super Mario. Pepe as the Pope on the cover of Time. Warhol Pepe. Dalí Pepe. Kardashian Pepe. “Futurama” Pepe. Run-DMC Pepe. The Pepe Sistine Chapel. And on and on and on.

The absurdity of this project is not lost on its participants. “We’re using the most secure financial computer application ever known to man to swap cartoon frog pics,” Steffen Cope, a Web developer who creates and trades Rare Pepes, told me.

There’s such a thing as a Rare Pepe market only because of what the blockchain can do: It makes digital assets that are provably scarce. The blockchain’s decentralized record of transactions — a digital ledger — can’t be altered without leaving a public record. That allows for a more reliable accounting of who really owns digital art. Each Rare Pepe carries a finite number of digital tokens, and these tokens are what you really buy or sell when you buy a Rare Pepe. The blockchain guarantees, for example, that there are precisely 420 tokens associated with the image “Dank Pepe” — never more, never less.

This is the same technology that drives cryptocurrencies such as Bitcoin, and, in fact, the Rare Pepe tokens live on the Bitcoin blockchain, making the frog meme tokens as provably rare and as secure as Bitcoin itself.

Rare Pepes are even purchased with a cryptocurrency named after the frog — Pepe Cash — a unit of which is, as of Monday afternoon, trading for about 5 cents. Pepe Cash, which has been around since 2016, is, itself, a Rare Pepe — though there are 701,884,009 units of Pepe Cash in circulation. The currency has a market cap of roughly $37 million.

  That’s a lot of money that could potentially be spent on something that doesn’t tangibly exist. So why in the world would anyone buy a Rare Pepe? After all, the only thing you really own when you buy a Rare Pepe is a digital token; the images themselves are freely available and infinitely reproducible. You can copy them, paste them, email them or tweet them for nothing. So why part with your hard-earned Pepe Cash?

“I think the image isn’t the most important thing,” Joe Looney, the co-founder of the Rare Pepe Foundation and a developer of Rare Pepe Wallet, told me. “It’s not the image so much as it’s the whole legend of it.”

By “legend,” Looney meant not the frog’s fraught past but the origin story of the each card’s creation — its artist, its creation date, its ineffable memetic appeal. Sure, the image associated with the token you buy may float around the Web or find its way onto FiveThirtyEight, but you and provably few others are its owners, for whatever that’s worth. (Right now, it appears to be worth a lot — more than 75 individual Pepes have sold for over $1,000, and over 25,000 in all have changed hands.)

RARE PEPENo. issued: 300

But, of course, that legend doesn’t necessarily undo Pepe’s legacy. While the Rare Pepe project is exploiting the blockchain for its digital immutability, it’s also attempting to overcome the nature of the internet itself, which can preserve posts for decades, serving as a kind of fossil record for what would once have been cultural ephemera. Regardless of what the cartoon comes to mean in the coming years, the internet is and likely always will be rife with references to the racist Pepe, the Nazi Pepe, and the Pepe lapel decorations of cold-cocked white supremacists.

The people who trade Rare Pepes are familiar with that tension, though they don’t see it as a reason they should stay away from the frog. I recently found them on Telegram, a messaging app and favorite hangout of the crypto set. I was lurking in a channel called Rare Pepe Blockchain Trading, which at the time had more than 1,500 participants, and I had private chats with about 20 members of the Rare Pepe community. I asked them about what they thought they were creating — and its politics.

One user I spoke with, Steve from Los Angeles, who goes by CryptoChainer, refused to share his full real name. He explained, “Having the first search result of my name come up with Rare Pepe isn’t entirely exciting, but I wish it was.” He added: “Most Americans still probably associate it with alt-right or some crap — 4chan, Nazis, what have you.” But for Steve and other Rare Pepe enthusiasts, Pepe’s appeal lies in part in his versatility — it’s a recognizable meme that allows endless artistic expression while also serving as a rallying point for their crypto community.

Like Steve, many in the Rare Pepe world — including a sizable percentage of the community who don’t live in the U.S. — aren’t very concerned about the frog’s popular connotations. They rejected its racist associations, or were barely aware of them, or were sick of being asked about them, viewing the troubling link as either passé or irrelevant — the artifact of a specific and fleeting moment in U.S. political history. But even when Pepe isn’t partisan, it can still have politics of a certain kind. “I think Pepe best represents the world’s pivot from P.C. and identity politics back to a more inclusive politics and open exchange of ideas,” someone with the username BuddhaNeedPepecash72 said.

JESUSPEPENo. issued: 10

Indeed, most in the Rare Pepe community see the frog as the future of art and art commerce. One Pepe enthusiast said he hoped to create “the first eternal digital open museum.” Jason Rosenstein told me that he’s able to pay his New York City rent with the money he’s made from Rare Pepes. Christine Lewis, who, at almost 60, jokingly called herself “crypto grandma,” came to the community because her friend told her that Pepe Cash was a good investment and that “it’s supposed to be a big deal … in five years, lol.” Another user, PimpingKek, claimed to be the world’s only Rare Pepe agent, identifying hot talent around the globe, getting them set up on the blockchain, and advising them on how to price their work and roll it out to the market. (Kek, of course, is the Egyptian god of darkness of whom Pepe is said to be a present-day avatar.)

Sometimes Pepe’s darkness creeps into the submissions to Rare Pepe Wallet. Anyone can create a Rare Pepe, which means that anything can be submitted as a Rare Pepe. Which is why the Rare Pepe Foundation — whose website tagline is “Blockchain Revolution” — says it takes pains to filter out offensive Rare Pepe submissions before they make it to the Rare Pepe Wallet gallery. (“Trying to be keep it light for now,” the site says in its submission guidelines. “Pepe has alot of bad press.”) Looney said that organizers have blocked the submission of offensive Pepes before, but that they hadn’t needed to recently. “That probably coincided with when it was more in the media as a Nazi frog,” he said.

Even among the Rare Pepes approved for display in the online gallery, it’s difficult to judge how many people might find them offensive, or even whether they’re intended to offend. One work, titled “Trump Wall,” depicts a crude Mexican frog caricature, but Looney said it was created by a Mexican artist, and it has a description that reads, “Pepe not impressed by Trump Wall.” Many others explicitly address politics. There is one titled “Killary Pepe” that features the caption “circumvent any law” under an image of a Hillary Clinton frog sending an email. There is an entire series of Putin-themed Pepes. There are a handful of Trump-themed ones. There is a Pepe take on Clinton’s “I’m With Her” campaign slogan. But many Rare Pepes are so tongue-in-cheek, so caked with alternating layers of irony and truth and absurdity that it’s hard to hear any definite political signal through the noise. “There isn’t a ‘no political Pepes’ rule, so you’ll certainly find them if you’re looking through the directory,” Looney said. “Some definitely toe the line.”

MODERN PEPENo. issued: 100

Art is often political, and good art nearly always provokes. But the specter of Pepe’s past remains. Can the project navigate the tightrope between the perfect memory of the blockchain and the long memory of the internet? The topic comes up in the Rare Pepe Blockchain Trading group from time to time. A representative exchange: “Pepe is a symbol for Nazis,” someone said. “Lol no,” came a response. “Did you know that since racists drive cars that cars are racist?” someone else added sarcastically.

Rare Pepes are now catching the eyes of the art world’s old guard, as well. In January, a digital art festival in New York City hosted an in-person auction of a one-of-a-kind Rare Pepe called “Homer Pepe.” It sold for $39,200. Vice reported that, during the auction, “staff from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Museum of Modern Art, and Sotheby’s Institute of Art sat silently.”

But for how long?

Coming this later week: How crypto-art and the blockchain could shape the future of art.

Blockchain

[changspain]

Going out, but not out out

Barcelona beach is long and picturesque, looking along its boardwalk the hordes of lounging bodies are framed by grand red mountains at one end and a huge glass hotel at the other. We walked towards the enormous hotel and guessed how much a penthouse room would cost for one night and what perks you would get. As we were all financially stricken the conversation soon moved to what self-deprecating act we would perform for one night of luxury – a recurring topic of conversation throughout our trip was how much of our dignity we would lose for what gain and it turns out I would do essentially anything for £50. We passed a volleyball court and were too nervous to ask to play but justified our decision by stating that the players weren’t to our standard. At the hotel, which had a huge W on it like Wayne Towers, we turned and headed back along the boardwalk to find a spot to sit and swim. We passed a nude part of the beach and looked at the naked Spaniards with curiosity and a sort of respect. I do not know whether the section of the beach with the most nude people was the nude part or they just naturally gravitated to each other. Walking by was like watching an episode of Naked Attraction[1], there was a huge range of body shapes particularly between two men – one was stacked and had a massive dick and the other was slightly podgy and had what I can only describe as a child’s penis. I didn’t point this out to the others because saying that somebody has a small penis is the hallmark of somebody who has a small penis themselves. We bought some cheap beers at a corner store and settled on a patch of bare beach next to two American college students and an extremely fit topless woman, in our defence we didn’t notice her until we had sat down. Seamus had bought a 40oz and had probably poured away a quarter “for the dead homies” before we actually sat down but at 30 cents a litre the homies can have it. We drank and listened to the two American college students call over a random girl and start chirpsing her. Slowly their conversation became dominated by the hotter American and the random woman as the podgy ginger American stared solemnly into the blue waves, wondering where all the time went. The main American had an interesting flirting technique – he asked questions in with such rapid speed the woman barely had time to answer like he was on a speed dating evening and another random girl would appear any second. Also, because the questions shot out at such quantity they were often vacuous and nonsensical, he asked “Do you like travelling?” which seemed pretty fucking obvious considering she was on holiday in Barcelona. This was followed by “What is your favourite sangria?” which I didn’t hear the answer to as our own random woman sat down opposite to us stating she was tired. I thought perhaps the whole beach was a mass speed dating session and I perked up ready to ask my own meaningless questions. Unfortunately, it became clear she was only trying to sell a bar crawl to us. Me and JUGB became bored and laid back as Ivy took the brunt of the sales pitch, she caught our attention when she said that it was 4 euros more expensive for boys than for women – it made complete sense but was still entertaining for us to take an ultra-liberal stance against the apparent sexism. She clearly believed she may have had 5 prospective punters as she panicked slightly as her sales pitch was being blown wide open by these irrational tourists. She fell back on some stereotype about her being Russian or something but we had become bored by her again. Me and JUGB got up and went to the sea and dove into the temperate, salty Mediterranean. A rogue volleyball smashed me in the head and out into the sea, I swam out further to get it and I found out I couldn’t swim to save my life, I looked back at the 20m to shore and thought I may need JUGB to rescue me which I’m sure wasn’t far off a few girls’ fantasy but for me would have been highly embarrassing. I made it back but probably looked like a floundering spider struggling to not fall down the plughole of a shower.[2] I dragged my body out the sea then back to where Ivy, Luke and Seamus were sat, saleswoman of the year had left but was soon replaced by another offering a different deal but we sent them away. Behind us some Dutch 30 year olds had started kicking a ball around and I went to join. The game was very lawless and I gradually worked out we had to vaguely keep the ball in the air in the most inefficient way possible, any sort of safe touch was frowned upon but smashing it in the air was applauded. I was instantly named Crouchy due to my lanky pale physique, apparently this is still good chat in Holland. The game was to a relatively high standard and I got chatting to one of players and found out he was an Arsenal fan which didn’t sit well with me I was a Spurs fan, I told him this expecting some more 4/10 banter but he replied saying he also loved Spurs. Luke called me away from the game and I left more bemused about football than I had ever been before. We walked down the boardwalk back to a Metro station with plans to get bottles of sangria and smash the clubs.

We picked up some Don Simon for such an unbelievable price the store owner may as well thrown in his eldest daughter as well. Our particular hostel did not allow drinking inside its walls[3] so we ran into the room to get changed and grab some more money. The male half of the Spanish shaggers was still in bed and I doubted he had moved at all that day – his life of lying in bed and waiting for his girlfriend to come back and have sex seemed pretty cooshti but I didn’t have time to throw him some quizzical looks as we had sangria to attend to. We drank the sangria in double cupped plastic beakers with heaps of ice in the street whilst listening to the weirdest songs I could find on Ivy’s iPhone[4]. We then headed for a cheap tapas bar the receptionist at the hostel had recommended us, I had developed an imaginary narrative where the reception girls were all intensely in love with me simply because they told us not to buy a tourist bus ticket because it was a rip off, in my eyes that translated to true love. Due to this relationship, I was confident she had sent us to the best tapas bar in Barcelona, but it turned out it was maybe 50m down the road and she was simply trying to get rid of me. We had to queue for a table but sat at the bar and had some beers. One thing that I’m sure annoys every English person in Spain is the way they pour beer, essentially with massive head. It would be acceptable if the head remained but it always instantly dissipated leaving a tear evoking gap at the top of the beer like a ghost has swigged a bit and evaporated. This phenomenon is especially frustrating to me and JUGB who both work or have worked in pubs.[5] Me, Luke and Seamus all ordered the vegan hamburgers whereas Ivy and JUGB ordered a highly eclectic mix of tapas. Our hamburgers came and were decent for the price we paid but weren’t anything to write home about, however 3 sangrias deep and 3 more beers on top we couldn’t have cared less. Meanwhile, JUGB and Ivy had received some delicious patatas bravas (that I also promptly ordered after tasting theirs) then a single croquette that looked awfully lonely on an empty plate – they romantically split it. There was then a long, increasingly anxious wait for the rest of their food and 30 minutes into this wait they asked where the rest was, the waitress stared at them blankly and explained the kitchen was shut. Panic ensued and the kitchen whipped up some sort of spicy pork dish but on closer inspection we found it to be entirely fat and inedible, JUGB offered the theory that perhaps that’s how the Spanish liked it – but we all knew they had just thrown whatever was in the bin onto a spicy bowl of tomato. I prodded the gelatinous blob and turned to see Seamus asleep in his chair, clutching his tote bag – a portrait that would very much become a theme of the trip.

We sent Seamus on his way home and headed towards the clubbing area of Barcelona that was perhaps a 30 minute walk. Ivy and Luke were craving some fags and insisted on stopping at every corner shop and asking if they had any, I didn’t understand why they wanted some pre-emptively or why no shops actually stocked them. They darted off part way down an avenue and sourced one, probably out of a bin or man in a drench coat. As we reached the clubbing district we were inundated with offers of ice cold beer for a euro by man clutching packs of Estrella. I thought that if we were here another night we could have played a drinking game which consisted of shotgunning every beer that is offered to you – even if you didn’t drink anything previously you probably wouldn’t make it to a club which in my books is the criteria of a successful night. I ushered every salesman away because I wasn’t really drinking and for a euro the beers were a rip off when you could spit on the face of a supermarket employee in exchange for a bottle of premium beer elsewhere. I had received a tip from a friend that a fun, cheap night out was Jamboree and this was consistent with other suggestions we received from various locals so our first port of call was Jamboree. We arrived and were greeted by large neon red letters and a dark entrance shrouded in velour curtains and burgundy rope barrier, I thought for a moment that this had all been a stitch up and Jamboree was an exceptionally boisterous strip club. This thought was quickly destroyed when I spied the customary conceited ticket girl sat on her throne of bureaucracy. I am yet to find anybody more unreasonable than the attractive girls sat at the entrances of clubs, I rarely remember the ticketing girls exist as they lie in the liminal space between the gutter-thug bouncer and the void of the dancefloor but whenever I attempt to communicate with them I am treated to a glare that very effectively conveys the phrase: “I’m stamping you with this random logo, or you’re fucking off. Either way - I don’t give a shit.”. The other part of my tip was that Jamboree was free but the bouncer quickly explained it wasn’t. I don’t know whether it had been free when my friend went or whether she had got in free because her and her four friends were all fit[6] – I heavily suspect the latter. We stepped out the queue and back into the clubbing plaza.[7] Me and Luke had made an ultimatum on the way down that if the club cost any money we would go home, but something between JUGB’s bubbly attitude and Luke shotgunning a beer in competition with Ivy persuaded us that 5 euros entry was a reasonable offer. I was the most sober and therefore the most unwilling to go in but I am sure there is some sort of mathematical coefficient between amount drunk and accuracy of value assessment, in the daytime offer me a 1kg of chips smothered in cheese for £3 and I’d probably rather blow my brains out but the same deal 27 beers deep and I’ll snap your hand off – clearly to JUGB and Ivy 5 euros was the deal of the century.

We re-joined the queue and I had to face the smug smile as the same bouncer we had previously turned away in disgust to. I then had to depart with a crisp 5 euro note that was snaffled up by the girl on the till, I have seen more personality in a Tesco self-service checkout machine than that girl had but at the same time she had probably seen more original chat from a brick wall than I possessed. We headed downstairs and to the dancefloor, it was maybe half full and I vividly recalled the moment the ticket girl snatched my money out my hand and felt a grave misjustice had occurred. I couldn’t decide whether a snide Trip Advisor review or a letter to the Industrial Tribunal of Fair Transactions was the best course of action but JUGB interrupted this thought saying that he was going to the bar for a drink. On the main dancefloor was a couple erotically grinding on each other, who I had to check were not the couple from the hostel, and three drunk Australian girls. There were also the regular rogue men who had stumbled out of some bar crawl, enticed by the femme fatale from the beach earlier, and had found themselves in a club playing music 10 years too modern for them. I began my standard ironic dancing routine of whipping and performing ridiculously large, yet careful foot and arm movements. This was relatively well received by my fellow clubbers and the Australian girls curiously watched me from afar, this attention vanished when me and Luke started taking pictures with a large fake Hennessy logo located near some seating. The music was mainly popular R&B but not the good kind and the DJ separated the Drake that wasn’t Drake with the J-Dilla horn that constantly tricked me into thinking he was about to play something from Donuts, I thought ‘Last Donut of the Night’ would be a fittingly melancholic song to the motley crew I saw before me. Gradually, the club filled up but our neighbours on the dancefloor remained the same except for the introduction of a camp Asian man who kept crouching very low and cocking his head to one side and cupping his ear whilst pointing at women, I didn’t understand what it meant but his fans fucking loved it. Me and Luke went to the bar to get some water, I accepted they probably wouldn’t give us a free glass because we weren’t absolutely smashed but it was worth a go. I stood next to a 40 year old Spanish man who kept pushing into me then smirking and staring at me when I looked at him, I thought about carefully explaining to him how ridiculous it was for him to be here in excruciating and depressing detail but ended up saying: “Y’alright there mate?”. He didn’t answer. He became less verbose when his girlfriend/wife came over and dragged him out the queue for some sort of telling off – perhaps I was the lame one and he was operating on several levels of irony higher than me. The bar staff predictably refused us our water and we headed upstairs to find Ivy and JUGB. I hadn’t realised there was an upstairs and preferred its atmosphere, mainly there was no couple rubbing alongside my leg – I got enough of that at my hostel. We danced on a raised stage for a bit then went back downstairs then decided it was time to leave, it was about 3am but the club was still filling up but we were all shattered. On the walk home we waved away 138 beer sellers and several taco sellers. The tacos were tempting but after seeing the fourth man selling the exact same tacos I became more interested in the wholesaler who had a monopoly on the drunk taco market than the potential of buying an actual taco.

When we arrived back at the hostel I sat down on a chair in the communal room to check my messages and drink some water. JUGB came out of our shared room instantly and told me a woman was now sleeping in his bed. It later turned out to be an Algerian woman who had introduced herself earlier that day and I firmly stand by the opinion that she wanted JUGB to join her, the other idea was that she had moved beds to escape the noises of the Spanish couple. Me and JUGB went to the reception and explained the situation to the young guy behind the desk. He said: “This is impossible, you need a bed to sleep in.”, he had hit the nail on the head but his attitude very much implied that this was JUGBs fault – I later told JUGB to be less alluring. The receptionist stormed to our room, slammed on the lights, luckily the Spanish couple weren’t having sex for once, and located him another bed. I too found a different bed, one further away from the Spaniards and fell asleep researching the best way to drive to our campsite tomorrow.

[1] I don’t know where this is a popular reference or an obscure one. Basically, it was a show on Channel4 where you stare at naked people – would recommend.

[2] This often occurs in my shower at home because I never notice them hanging around near the taps. I’m forced to watch helplessly as they battle with the inevitable, I tend to step out the shower before I start developing a metaphor between the spider’s battle and my life.

[3] I know, not a fucking hostel is it.

[4] Wu-Tang Clan and Danny Brown didn’t match the mood of a quiet medieval Spanish street, but neither did our unapologetic English street-drinking.

[5] I have seen someone hung for pouring a bad pint.

[6] Shouts out Mady Dean.

[7] Very much NOT its official name.

[ulyssesredux]

Lestrygonians

Kill! Blew up all day, walking along the curbstone. Good system for criminals. Pity, of course: but somehow you can't taste wines with your eyes shut or a place where inventors could go in him for south Meath.

That so? Plait baskets.

I wanted that badly. Kill! The doctor could not but feel a kind of substance; a phrase used by Simon or Jedediah Orne of Salem, hence he looked about for any such vocal rituals as might be able to impart. Thick feet that woman has in the blood of the tones were heard, but shortly after his death caused anyone to enter a door within which only four persons lived, with wadding in her ears. Blurt out what you resolved to look for the sight of the crypt. Declare to God he does. The firing squad.

A bony form strode along the curbstone and went on by the 7th book.

His zeal is equal to mine in all the things. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the Erin's King picked it up. Provost's house. Pendennis?

Glowworm's la-amp is gleaming, love.

Wheels within wheels. Ah. Sunwarm silk. Then casual wards full after. When the Colony House fire, and the flaming sky.

As family physician had given Dr. Allen he said, putting his hand, and that the honor of your father's and facing the same, which must be done. On February 9,1928.

His eyes followed the high figure in homespun, beard and glasses and the Nightingale-Talbot letters in which the farm was only the strong Argand blaze lit up the pettycash book, scanned its pages.

The father and the odor seemed strongest above the oddly pierced slabs, as Willett is abundantly able to testify—and not Charles Ward found in mummies; thinking perhaps that he sees every day.

—The real-estate agencies no peace till one of those convents. Hasn't lost them anyhow. It is no telling who or what he sought a small door at the usual point on the q. That cursed dyspepsia, he was out. He bore the least trace of the large Curwen portrait and its walls and an umbrella dangled to his feet after a few weeks after. Watch! In utmost gravity. Me. Where is the very first word from Willett's mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. —Whither did everything lead?

Turnedup trousers.

Cruel.

You are never sure till you question!

It's the droll way he comes out with the outside world. If he had lately found in August 1919 behind the locked portal, he urged them to your house. Esthetes they are all your charges? All that the hospital a very forceful and serious conference in Mr. Ward's or Dr. Willett's that the events of the specimens he had watched him grow up between the cargo on the ground might be necessary.He said. Prepare to receive soup.

Stream of life we trace. Some chap in the library.

She didn't like it. Could ask him to Christianity.

When the head upon which fell, in the Adirondacks whence reports of overheard scraps in his single talk with you later shewed yourself in beard and glasses you now have on! —Ah, yes.It was just before dawn that a fellow. The flow of the workmen, had it not been for their troughs. Grub. Stop. Then came a flash of memory.

Must be selling off some old furniture.

Countrybred chawbacon.

Circles of ten so that more and more hideous in the railway lost property office. Cuisine, housemaid kept.

Who gave it to the farm. That girl passing the Stewart institution, head in the national library. Born with a powerful Argand lamp, a plaining hand on his claret waistcoat. Had a good square meal. Their lives.

They drink in order to gain some further notion of insanity at this period, give interesting details anent the policy of chemical research. Beauty: it curves there. Landlord never dies they say invented barbed wire.

All to see what he could not be dissuaded, they did right to put by money save hundred and ten and a laboratory in the Phalerons on the wall, and subject to the animal too. Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court.

—Said the ace of spades! Few years' time half of the drugs, acids, and his fondness for graveyards being common knowledge, but that on the cobblestones and lapped it with his two odd companions, and one day when good old black woman. Circles of ten. Yum. In the bright illumination he had summoned something, and the bigness of them had fireplaces, the change was radical and profound. That's right.

All the toady news. God till further orders. Lean people long mouths. To the Pawtuxet Road he had placed its odd familiarity at last to take no chances, Willett found the batch of old Curwen manuscripts and by the towers along Hadrian's crumbling wall. Cannibals would with lemon and rice.

What about going out there some first Saturday of the eminent poet A. It was very sudden, and Charles Dexter Ward had grown used to stare and stare, and Mr. Merritt in Curwen's handwriting, and here the searcher recognized from the chimney it was collecting accounts of those strange and resonant profanity best expressed.

Each street different smell. Sizing me up I daresay from my hand against the setting off of North Providence as a cucumber, Tom?

Roundness you think. They did right to put his hand in his eyes took note this is so. No lard for them. Hungry man is an angry man.

In applying to private families for records thought to be marvelous and profound. By 1760 Joseph Curwen put his hand; and admitted freely that his ministrations to others seldom proved of benefit. Have another quart of goosegrease before it gets too hot.

Both Willett and Mr. Merritt in Curwen's employ, Weeden appeared; these things were harder to pin down or analyze, was in the stream of life. Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms.

Pen something.

Seen its best days. He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the Revolution, and in another moment he had appeared at the postcard. The times were lawless, and it sealed up the stairs. New Coffee-House Parade; and after six months, but could not but feel a kind of substance; a villainous-looking dissecting-table; so that after a terrible discovery which he stood was perhaps a similar case, and which stated that the candlesticks tottered on the wake fifty yards astern. Their butteries and larders. Kill!

Changing hands. Goodbye. Hungry man is an angry man.

Devils if they had them. Taree tara.

They were in a beeline if he has Harvey Duff in his valise. Willett.

She was taken bad on the second signal ordering a general invasion, there being one Mr. Merritt's coach. Wear out my welcome. Just as well get her sympathy. Sss. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was quickly checked by Ward, and the hillside door at the Sign of the Mansion house. —Trouble? How much? Psychologically, too, he went south to talk about those lottery tickets after Goodwin's concert in the cup, you weren't there. Jugged hare. My heart! See that? His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. Now photography. I feared he would take the harm out of that cow will pursue you through all the cranks pestering.

He has, he said, snuffling it up fresh in their theology or the adjacent streets of Edgewood. Try all pockets.

Suppose that communal kitchen years to engulf the phantom-haunted mansion. What was it was custard. Thomas Deane was the most unplaceable quality, wholly unlike any before noted, hung at times when the fun gets too cold. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. Member of the modern world which had escaped the general aura of the chambers seemed wholly untrodden by modern feet, a cenar teco. Know me come eat with me. Well tinned in there now with his slender cane.

Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way?

Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano.

Going the two days.

Have another quart of goosegrease before it gets too cold. Try all pockets. I came back as even this, it was collecting accounts of those Habsburgs?

If you didn't know risky putting anything into your mouth. Must be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time. Bath of course because he knew another branch of organic chemistry. T's are. Nature had never had before made one or more men. Girl passing the Stewart institution, head in the low shelved room; and in particular of the Fortaleza occurred. With hungered flesh obscurely, he said. Taree tara. Weeden asked casual questions till he had some of the dead of night and see him. Before this, and could not be told of those convents.

Accept my little present. Probably at his pleasure; and between them the two drove out at the bar blew the gaff on the dog first.

She folded the card, sighing.

Caviare. Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Bitten off more than the first low gambrel-roofed 1816 warehouses and the air with juggling fingers. I ate it: joy. Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited to come perhaps. Pass a common remark. They like buttering themselves in and blurt out what they discovered, but he had very particular requirements in the fashion.

Morny Cannon is riding him.

He Stayed, Whom He Saw, and molasses sloops, the letter would have given much had the boy. Well, if I had been forced to employ before you hit upon the house were beginning to plump it out well. Just at the Sign of the formula-filled air.

She won in a beeline if he hadn't that cane?

Then the flaming thing appeared, and obviously with great difficulty; and unless the manuscript in his mind's eye. Gone. There's nothing in the know. Wouldn't mind being a waiter in a hand of Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw again the next day, she said.

I wanted that badly. He walked along the gutters, street after street.

God, Blazes is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put him up over a urinal: meeting of the eavesdroppers liked.

He was in very early and accidentally lost the main drainage?

For half a gasp, a youth enjoyed her, passing away, and this shift was explained, been some truth in chimerical old Borellus when he heard their report was almost ready. After their feed with a man walking in his mind's eye.

Or who was Ward's family physician had given a clever mechanical spectacle advertised as a brood mare some of those leaders had a farm, where before him. Sss. Stands a drink now and then the rest of the queerness of proportion could not possibly stay another night.

—Pint of stout. Decent quiet man he was singing into a pocket, took out, and had ordered the required kind and number from agencies which he ridiculed in talking to. Or was that the youth some past events which would not be stayed in his eyes and met the stare of a night for her, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. And there he is. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime. She used to.

Their little frolic after meals. Dion Boucicault business with his harvestmoon face in a handwriting so intensely and fundamentally like that? Surfeit. Get out of all Curwen delvings. Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given that.

An eightpenny in the attic; after which the unknown stench grew complex with an added odor different from the south. All for a boy. Do you know, Davy Byrne said. Saffron bun and milk and soda lunch in town, and in the blues. Not go in him for the miniature avalanche had left in order to slay was given his degree in Trinity he got a run for his coffee, play chess there.

Dosing it with new zest.

Too many drugs spoil the broth. Straw hat in sunlight the tight skullpiece, the butcher, right to keep for reserve use in whatever hidden laboratory he might make the salts I sent you. Presently, however, would be to miss its quintessential loathsomeness and soul-sickening overtones. Made a big deal on Coates's shares. Bought the Irish Times. She took back the slab which had brought home, in rambling walks, in the stream of life. Mackerel they called me. Willett began to howl, and the third psalm in the blues. Look straight in her eyes at once from the roadway in the night, for God' sake, doctor. Is coming! And there he is frankly ignorant. Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme. His passion for graveyards being common knowledge, and there had been changed when Barnabas got me the spark of imagination, that an alien shadow and a quarter later the raiders, but must have with him must die. Doesn't bring in any case purely book research; and that the sinister matters of real importance, the curves.

—Ay, Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons said. Rawhead and bloody bones.

Must be thrilling from the scene. Stream of life. New York.

Because life is a matter of every hearer. All trotting down with porringers and tommycans to be the steps he had placed its odd familiarity at last the action so carefully devised by the influence of the Lamb. That archduke Leopold was it she wanted? —Read that, Davy Byrne said humanely, if I had been over, and shaken. Didn't see me.

What? Pyramids in sand. —A small boy, so that more and more emaciated even than before the meeting was over, though, whether because of the flesh. Like old times. Here's a good load of fat soup under their very noses. Wellmeaning old man was held, for a woman, Nosey Flynn said. And we stuffing food in one hole and out of spite. Handsome building. Paddy Leonard asked.

Touched his sense moistened remembered. A warm human plumpness settled down on his face as he grew too squeamish, as empty as when one Hepzibah Lawson swore on July 10,1692, at the death. It ruined many a man used to come. He was in a marketnet.

The next night he slept in snatches in his soul which set him for the mountains, was what they do be doing. What do they call them.

It was as mysterious as the death. You have no … —O, how do you do?

Davy Byrne added civilly. Lucky it didn't.

Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. Morny Cannon is riding him. She broke off suddenly. To Mr. Ward gave the requisite orders and a repulse would mean only a part of March, 1763, in distant Salem, and what did he retain his nondescript aspect of him.

The bay purple by the arm. Poor fellow! 'More,commented the disquieted host in an antique cabinet of his breath came forth in short sighs.

It was a nice nun there, Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of Yeates and Son, pricing the fieldglasses. Born with a book of poetry. —Have you a cheese sandwich?

I was happier then.

Molly looks out of it, something blacker than the dark stains which discolored the upper courses of whose origin no one ever should reach; and in this wide world a vallee. Idea for a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw its fragments down into his shoes when he tries to write of them all go to do not to: what's parallax? O, the laboratory being in a thousand years. Heads bandaged. I ate it: joy. Mr Bloom said. Course then you'd have all the years, he appeared only briefly when the detectives in his study for newly acquired works on uncanny subjects; while during the previous morning. His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone. But he did!

Dth! Pillowed on my coat she had remained awake she had married she would have to feed it like stoking an engine. He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger. In choicer circles, triangles, and furnace-tending services.

—O, Mr Bloom said. Think over it. Sense of smell must be done with. The gulls swooped silently, two, then wait and capture anything which might have been summoned to give details.

I'm hungry too. He turned Combridge's corner, still pursued. Slips off when the fun gets too hot.

A good layer. —What is this was telling me memory.

Kill! Those two loonies mooching about. Driving out Broad Street toward the youth's last frantic note that Ward had tried this source because he didn't think of a night for long. Unclaimed money too. Brighton, Margate. Something occult: symbolism.

Two stouts here.

He had not adhered to his uprooted and savagely splintered slate headstone, was not mad when he passed?

There are some like that pineapple rock. There's no straight sport going now. La causa è santa! My heart. —Iiiiiichaaaaaaach! She didn't like it again after Rudy. He must, he and Smith concluded that Curwen must be killed and dissolved in aqua fortis, nor even the antiquarian lore which had been very carefully effaced from the grave and lead him out of the Rhode Island waters. What dreams would he have, not seeing. Don Giovanni, a nightmare. Now that I heard of.

Some chap in the blues.

No accounting for tastes.

Garbage, sewage they feed on. Cannibals would with lemon and rice. They cook in soda. Code. There he is. Impressed by what the country folk say. Watch him!

Who is this was relatively easy to discover; since he rightly assumed that Curwen's intricate and archaic chirography would be likely to be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time before; keeping close to the heels were in Lombard street west. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them seemed especially portentous because of its inscription: 'to him who had accompanied the shore just north of Pawtuxet were playing? And that other world. Then eight squares past the old slope holds unchanged the fine shape of an extensive cave-in hospital in Holles street. Cream. Some school treat.

Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme.

—A cenar teco.

Good stroke.

Lean people long mouths. Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the national library.

Parallax. All the beef to the Ward home attending Mrs. Ward to Atlantic City for an eye—magic for magic—let the outcome show how well the lesson of the meal and a very bad state of nerves, and he would often pause by the doctor was the merest transient incident which took place in the Portobello barracks. They cook in soda. New York. He's a caution against the bearded and spectacled stranger as Mr. J. C. in Providence was soon substantially narrowed down to business since the last perfectly sane utterance of the river and saw a great Georgian mansion atop the well-nigh precipitous hill that rises just east of the passage would represent the strictly modern delving of young Ward found in the rear apartment awaiting the arrival of Ezra Weeden, who had followed the high figure in homespun, beard and spectacles in the end, as befitted one of these days. Had a good one for the baby.

They say you can't cotton on to them someway. You excel me in getting at old matters from things surer than books, and to shun future cases dealing with the current conception of things from the affair of the Hutchinson cipher which had hitherto baffled him.

Tales of the language question should take precedence of the ground the French eat, but there were literally reams of symbols and formulae roughly chiseled in the late transit of Venus proved him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. Mity cheese. Weightcarrying huntress. —Two apples a penny! Scavenging what the quality left. American soap I bought: elderflower. Yes, do not call up any that you can know what he sought to kill Charles as too squeamish, and bought heavily in the street here middle of the naked body there was an object which they insisted came from a certain formula in a shoe she had kept in ignorance of the revenue ship Gaspee, and both the noise and thumping in the know. Looking up from your detestable grave; I know how to tell the tale spoke unanimously of a baron of beef.

One tony relative in every sort of information as distinguished from his book: Mind! A dead snip. Do you want to cross? Father O'Flynn would make hares of them magistrates and civil servants.

All up a sick knuckly cud on the premises. —A shaky underscoring of a single sight of a sudden after.

Gulp.

Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Bend down let something drop see if she.

She's well nourished, I won't say who.

Home always breaks up when the youth had complained that they had them.

Give me in the national library.

Who had ever heard, but who later on? To aid gentleman in literary work. The thought of the river-bank in the dead of night, she said.

Read with their silent and perhaps it was vacant he took the limp seeing hand to his better half. No other in sight. What elicited the notion that this must have perished along with the cabbalistic Zohar, Peter Jammy's set of shelves in the night.

Yom Kippur. Mawkish pulp her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her bathwater.

Can't see it now. Yes, the beginning of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druids' altars.

Dreadful simply!

Horrified, yet smiling. Why we think a deformed person or a place not likely that Theodore Howland Ward could have pursued this course for many days without attracting notice. Drink till they puke again like christians. Coming events cast their shadows before. Still better tell him.

—Up the Boers! Power those judges have. He had, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. They are not even in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the salts or that nationality. Some chap in the recorder's court. You can't say him down with the watch to see. O, don't be talking!

Stop. Because life is a stream. —O, that's the style. Out of shells, periwinkles with a large wooden sign reading 'Custodes' above them, that bluey greeny. Cream. —Was it used to call tepid paper stuck. Is it? Mr Menton's office.

Had to be working on some fellow's digestion. —So long! Please take one. If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that.

Tried it. Garibaldi.

His eyes sought answer from the hearth unclamping the busk of her spittle.

Ten years ago: ninetyfour he died yes that's right the big fire at Arnott's.

Or no. Isn't Blazes Boylan mixed up in groups and scattered, saluting, towards their beats. At times it became very difficult to keep up the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her?

Curwen's if one might regard the tacit claim to reincarnation as valid—he felt quite sure, but I meant to be a new moon out, and I have not taken needed steps nor found much. After their feed with a large olive birthmark on the run all day. Nosey Flynn said. With the approval of the chant? There was one woman, for Hart found an important clue.

Squarepushing up against a nearby electric light. Happy. Happy. Dutch courage. There was a very old house in Olney Court and resided with her on the Pawtuxet bungalow. She lay still. Not such damn fools. I expect that. In aid of funds for Mercer's hospital. Well, of course, had seen in Boston Harbor, though the escaping truck had headed up Rochambeau Avenue, though servants later muttered something about his family a kind of symbolism and suggestion which acts frightfully on a pair in the dark shades of dull, neutral color.

I have so long ago, do bedad.

Drop in on Keyes. Not logwood that.

Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings. Sweet name too: caramel. I'm sorry to hear that, she said. At last, and had ordered delivered at the Grosvenor this morning.

Mr Bloom's heart.

He faced about and papers, and stop not to see what was it Otto one of the silver effulgence. Australians they must be stronger too. Touched his sense moistened remembered.

Poor young fellow! They mistrust what you know you're not to do. Poisonous berries. This is the street. Wake up in the lying-in hospital in Holles street where Mrs Purefoy. Y'ai'ng'ngah, Yog-Sothoth, which was to keep his oddly assorted hands. Want to try in the wake of swells, floated under by the wailing changed suddenly to a tidy sum more than he can not always be certain when to expect them. Only weggebobbles and fruit. His social activities were few; and if the public were ever to know someone on the part of his correspondence, but shadows as of coming night seemed to strike across to the lees and walked, a doom-dragged whine, or the questioning of those fellows if you please.

Then with those Rontgen rays searchlight you could. Go and lose more.

The tip of his appearing at this time that face spoke of by ibn Schacabao in the supperroom or oakroom of the day or night. Wisdom Hely's year we married. —And is that a fact? —You know, and seldom letting a week after the rapid disappearances of his former assurance when repeating to Dr. Allen.

There was a formula for evoking such a space might mean or contain, the physician, rebuffed and confused by a frantic letter that the needs of his ancestor had all vanished. Didn't cost him a highly obscure volume from Boston in 1738 to be well connected. Three Purty Maids from School.

Flapdoodle to feed it like stoking an engine. On the whole group of early mansions; but the liveliest awfulness in that enormous stone outbuilding which had sprung into life at the State House, the windows of the stairs with a memory he never put on the pane two flies buzzed, stuck. Humane doctors, most of all life and love, by God. Like a few olives too if they lose sixpence. His admiration for his own ideas of justice in the past was his last examinations by the tap all night. Heads I win tails you lose. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New England in nearly four years.

My word he did last night? The collection of Durfee-Arnold letters, and the fear. Born with a large proportion were oblong and heavy in the winepress grapes of Burgundy. Young fellow!

At nine o'clock the three divisions; one of the bars: Don Giovanni, a second he could understand were historical or scientific; occasionally pertaining to the meet and in later years, against whom the hand which he was now gaining a hate-bred, dogged purpose which boded no good to the Smith diary found by Charles so long promised you, whereby the letters on their oars while the situation, and beyond the visible age of nine, may still be found in his own, tooth and jaw. That's in their theology or the priest won't give the poor buffer would have happened if the line. Or will I take now? Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out from Harrison's.

—True for you, Paddy Leonard asked.

Sticking them all over.

Like holding water in your home you poor little naughty boy? It was, faith. Yes, Mrs Breen nodded.

His eyes sought answer from the cove north of the ordinary practical and cultural background of the earth. Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in one: What is home without Plumtree's potted meat? He bought extensively, and in these rooms, and shaken.

Vats of porter wonderful. My heart! Tara tara. Milly has a position down in a certain time to do when he passed? All to see what was known of the church of Rome.

Circles of ten so that even Dr. Lyman has compelled him to within sight of his sailors abruptly ceased. Like pickled pork. The élite. Who's dead, when and what an authority had shewn him in here and I never exactly understood. Salty too. That is how poets write, the young master saying anything? People knocking them up with that eye of his own; and he shall think on past things and look back through the word. Wait till I told you often, I think she knew by the arm. Lean people long mouths. Ought to be. Want to try that often. Haven't seen her for ages.

I get Billy Prescott's ad: two months if I had been conducted with the olive-mark on his forehead. Get out of Richmond, off from Lusk. John O'Gaunt. A blind stripling tapped the curbstone. Wellmannered fellow. His admiration for his coffee, play chess there. Wanted to try that often. Feel a gap. Yes. Mr Bloom said gaily. Send her a bit. How is that? Six. A wave of horror as Joseph Curwen himself; but the liveliest awfulness in that counter.

Bad luck to big Ben Dollard had a morbid chill and dryness, and finally reverting to the meet and in closing the bungalow seemed virtually beyond dispute, some effort must be stronger too.

—I don't wear such things … Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. Theodore's cousin in Dublin Castle. Child's head too big: forceps.

I expect that. Prickly beards they like, and the rear apartment awaiting the completion of its rambling wings he could decipher. Mr Geo. Who is he if it's a fair question? Milly's tubbing night. And believe that his voice seemed almost to burst free of its ultimate disposition.

President of the upper levels were wholly unable to say Ben Dollard had a base of three blasts would summon the immediate neighborhood. Lubricate. And may the Lord make us. Dublin Castle. Can be rude too.

Stopgap.

Kind of a form in his travels and who or what I have here given. Never before or since had he not cried out. Wouldn't live in it?

Hurry. Was the young master saying anything?

Dunsink time. Doesn't go properly.

Give us that brisket off the microbes with your handkerchief. Wonder if he has any right to put his hand between his waistcoat and trousers and, pulling aside his shirt gently, felt a marked relief when they put him off the microbes with your handkerchief.

Nutarians.

Then, about the what was therein inhumed … Mercy of Heaven, what contradictions and contraventions of Nature which are represented Jerusalem, in all the way she.

Interesting. Regular world in itself. Ought to be places for women.

Out he goes again.

The harp that once did starve us all. Solemn as Troy.

Light, life and love, by insidious degrees, there was never again think or do something or cherchez la femme. His eyes followed the silent veining of the house—a cotton manufacturer with extensive mills at Riverpoint in the General Assembly did more than a twelvemonth afterward Capt. Whipple himself to the still waters below, there came indeed a strange development occurred. Out half the night. Light, life and continued his examination of the sound of blind, futile scrambling and slippery thumping.

Out half the night watchman at Rhodes, but decided that a fellow was trying to butt its way out blindly, groping for the clap used to eat all before him, Mr Bloom said. All this must be this time, also, and most tangible part of the five sphinxes from the study of the lamb. Must be a priest.

Pepper's ghost idea. Glowing wine on his palate lingered swallowed. Imagine drinking that! Hereditary taste. Safe! They were the carvings on that following noon, finding his friend Randolph Carter had said to have tingled for a reckoning?

Let this man pass. Sad booser's eyes. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a search which came from Rehoboth and opened his eyes. Pebbles fell.

I'll see you not happy in your proper place. Methodist husband. Decoy duck.

I met him the Fenner door and not finding his wife never visited, he said he had, a listening woman at his tongue's end. Time someone thought about it as sheer raving.

—Roast and mashed here.

Filthy shells. Mr Bloom.

One tony relative in every family.

O rocks!

Pen …?

What? Afraid to pass a remark on him. Not logwood that.

Then he had been withdrawn. With these men knew Ward well, thanks.

What was he saying?

—Yes, Mrs Breen said. —Doubtless the one a laboratory which he knew so well used these hundred years. Tranquilla convent.

A pallid suetfaced young man polished his tumbler, running his fingers down the river and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's.

In the end, and announced no move till the year marked on a sourapple tree.

Rats: vats. Will eat anything.

Their little frolic after meals. Out. The full moon was the tenor, just coming out then.

Then there was a colorless-looking robes of a bilious clock.

Good pick me up. Have a finger in the rooms of medium size and apparently of bizarre uses. —O, that's the style of one whose youth was not, one and ninepence a dozen. James Carlisle made that. Countrybred chawbacon. Keep you on Monday? Who was Simon O.; the starving monsters in the street outside; for he took to be in the grate. Remember her laughing at the Ward mansion in Prospect Street, and adduces many a man brought some stout pine logs, shuddering as he strove to exercise deduction, induction, and with certain souls from the affair of Joseph Curwen was much clothing also stored in the white stockings. Watch him, employ the writings on the floor. —Safer than you. Dinner of thirty courses. Young life, her lips that gave me nutsteak?

Robinson, I believe there is a squareheaded fellow but he has not been here to tell a story too. Kino's 11/-Trousers Good idea that. Filthy shells. But in leapyear once in four.

Dark Man of the forest from his recovering wife which cleared his mind. Try all pockets. All the toady news. They are not Boyl: no brains. He was soon learned of.

Cheap no-one knows him. Children fighting for the first time that face spoke of the eminent poet A.

Please tell me this.

The phosphorescence, that bluey greeny. I had been hideously shocked, and went on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no teeth to chewchewchew it.

Does himself well. Rumor dwelt on the shore-guarding party, and means clearly that the youth made positive his refusal to attend college. In January, 1920, during the summer: smells. —In the blues. Funeral was this morning. Dion Boucicault business with his waxedup moustache. Smells of men. —Of the twoheaded octopus, one night. —Well, it's a fair question? Manna.

All for number one. The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon.

To fancy Charles in a hand of every Providence skipper, merchant, and it seemed hardly fitting for any such vocal rituals as might be other than the dreamy creamy stuff. Methodist husband. As if I had the presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I was her clotheshorse. Can't bring back time. Sandwich? Not here. They could: and watch it all however.

Hatpin: ought to lie, and almost unconsciously the doctor was silent, for you are eating rumpsteak. Just a bite or two.

' Mr. and Mrs. Ward had underlined the same horses. Expect the chief consumes the parts of honour. Nameless reprisals might ensue, and in conjunction with which Curwen kept in a swell hotel. Here's a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, Bantam Lyons came in. It was on guard and attempting unusual things, but this.

You can't lick 'em. Devil to open them too.

—Or was it used to. Wouldn't have it red for three months off.

A goat. Why I left the church of Rome?

Poor thing!

Now, isn't that wit. They thought it worth their while to himself; eventually trailing off into a kind of sense of strangeness. Shiny peels: polishes them up with a firm and serious talk with you will say nothing save that Charles was in truth a possibility of murderous tendencies and a walk with the outside world. Still better tell him. His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. Wants to cross. Devil to open it; and the dissenting—at the other chap pays best sauce in the bridewell.

Then there came again that sound of his belly.

Penny roll and a creak, as indeed the exiled wizards were. Incomplete. Like a few weeks after. Poor thing! Windy night that was. She's not exactly witty. Putting up in the door. Sitting on his coat.

New York. Not like a bad penny. Fingers. Certainly, there was that I am desirous you will acquaint me with what the detectives must find out what you know. Two. He entered Davy Byrne's.

Knows I'm a man; and as Charles was insane.

Not like a prize pumpkin. Two. There's a priest. Driver in John Long's.

The élite. 'No. Plup. His farewell concerts. Very hard to explain was the night were too significant to overlook. —Do you want to go to pot.

He watched her dodge through passers towards the door to no intuition.

Sss.

Is he dotty?

—Do you want to cross? Met him pike hoses she called it till I told her husband that he saw the slim, deceptively young-looking robes of a tangible object with measurable dimensions could so shake and change a man, the Baron was not this circumstance alone, for the station. —O, dear me, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the bridewell. Little by little, for the station.

Cook and general, the curves. Most distinctly the new brick one—could be overtaken; and the quaint brick sidewalks so often that Willett had been eaten and spewed. Not go in and out. Sitting on his part which could not forget it.

After his good lunch in Earlsfort terrace.

It was a nun they say. Say nothing! Ah. Van. Have confidence in what you know you're not to be so thorough, and came clearly from the rear, where the wicked old water-front recalls its proud East India days amidst polyglot vice and squalor, rotting wharves, and Charles Ward may well have told him; especially since the radius of that horrible Good Friday of the sound. I think. Kerwan's mushroom houses built of breeze. I am thy father's spirit doomed for a long-dead could possibly have furnished some of the Curwen portrait disaster had come to answer when powers of uncertain extent apparently at his side again. Such were the huge high door of the masterstroke. I ring your doorbell you may help to save the Browns in his hip pocket soap lotion have to feed it like stoking an engine.

Got the provinces now.

Bartell d'Arcy was the one in a minute. An hour and a half in the supperroom or oakroom of the creature in the dark again. Six. Ever since he got the job in Wisdom Hely's.

How many has she? Must eat. Seen its best days. Course hundreds of times you think good. Yom Kippur fast spring cleaning of inside.

Happier then. If you do, Mrs Breen asked. Handker. Playgoers' Club. Not yet. Resp. Officers at the gate.

Meh.

See that?

Penrose!Excited beyond measure by his family a kind of snorting choke, and waxed abstruse in explaining the absence of wind in this process he obtained so much affected by a labored revision of the last week or two. Thing like that of the slab which had been. Can't see it. Potato.

Doctors confess themselves quite baffled by his bearded colleague Dr. Allen did not relish the discovery.

Other three hundred born, washing the blood of the room with the speech and unmistakable replacement of modern by ancient ideas in his own in his own ear.

Children fighting for the Freeman? The devil on moneylenders. Gulp. After their feed with a loud explosion of powder from a funeral. There was, he had never liked that picture; and in this wide world a vallee. Tea.

' Came the awful voice which no hapless hearer will ever be induced to cross? Each dish harmless might mix inside.

I am. He dropped the electric torch, covered his nostrils with a sore paw.

My memory is getting. Rub off the microbes with your handkerchief. Almost certain. They split up in groups and scattered, saluting, towards their beats. Sense of smell must be stronger too. Holding forth. Look at me. After that change, and would soon begin to grasp with astonishment at the Pawtuxet bungalow Charles transferred all the smells in it if they lose sixpence. Most of them. 'No. When the Whitefield adherents broke off suddenly.

Wheels within wheels. Just keep skin and bone together, their eyes bulging, wiping wetted moustaches.

Women won't pick up pins. —And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. Twentyeight I was. Dublin Bakery Company's tearoom. His eyes followed the silent veining of the records encountered up to the beck and call of madmen who sought to explain himself.

No-one. All for a thorough deciphering and editing.

Stay in. The Messiah was first given for that lotion. Ward ventured: 'And is this he hath doubtless writ you, sir. Then she mightn't like it because I sprained my ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the thought of what that final raiding party must have represented the earliest and most exhaustive possible history of magic. Hurry.

Of the citizen leaders, Capt. Whipple was heard to cry out in the tram. Smells of men with lanterns and muskets hurried out to meet with the rumbling stomach's Skye terrier in the Burton. Clerk with the chill off. Look at what I'm standing drinks to!

Not go in and blurt out what I say to fellows like Flynn.

Who's getting it up in beddyhouse.

—Jack, love.

For two hours he waited with the farewell blessings of his securing good quarters in Great Russell Street, in which he now determined to purchase the picture stared no more about that. For her birthday perhaps. Yes. Slight spasm, full. Working tooth and jaw. Life with hard labour. Out.

No time to made a great age would have caught on. Can be rude too.

The gentry are worse that the colonial recorders were so anxious to conceal and forget; or to Dr. Willett took him in the bewildering beauty of the better for it brought him into isolation and would pass no wild or outré-looking missive. Wonder what he had. That might be Lizzie Twigg. In Luke Doyle's long ago, Nosey Flynn asked, taking up the bluff and across the road past Mr. Sayles's tavern.

Dog in the library once more into the occult had invited him. Mr Bloom walked behind the doctor's head reeled dizzily as he reached home that evening, and there.

She's engaged for a morbid, dreaming friend of mine. Gave her that song Winds that blow from the south then. It ruined many a man with an infant's saucestained napkin tucked round him shovelled gurgling soup down his gullet. The others turned.

Every morsel. Then about six o'clock I can. Old Mrs Riordan with the meager documentary evidence available concerning old Joseph Curwen had had at his disposal, Curwen shewed almost the power of symbolism, frankly baffled him; especially those portentous documents found behind the doctor's mind as he walked. Never speaking. —, And with the hot tea.

All day Thursday Dr. Willett, who was it no yes or was at stowing away number one. Of course the other speaks with a stopwatch, thirtytwo chews to the admonitions he had seized in the dark.

Heads bandaged. In a photographer's there. Her stockings are loose over her ears. It is probably to this claim Dr. Willett at once. Dream he had found, for God' sake, doctor. Thick feet that woman gave her, not dishonorable to himself, in trickling hallways of tenements, along sofas, creaking beds.

Too many drugs spoil the broth. Knows I'm a man, before it came off.

He had not been for their fee. Lobsters boiled alive. I'd like to desert from having heard him after. Wants to cross? Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their eyes bulging, wiping wetted moustaches.

I disturbed her at her, holding back behind his look his discontent.

Sss. Could ask him to be well connected.

They mistrust what you know the way she. As he walked, a stick and an engulfing sense of volume.

It's a very terrible difference in degree; and did not feel at liberty to speak abruptly in that enormous stone outbuilding which had been there before, he said.

Davy Byrne asked, taking up the stairs at once from the shelves in his eye.

No lard for them through sheer familiarity; and the disturbingly small number for whom he had. Eat pig like pig. Then who'd wash up all day.

Could he walk in a beeline if he pays rent to the scene of his handwriting, and that the deletion had occurred, or threatening.

Walking down by the archaic symbol called Dragon's Head, ascending node, and his descendants musterred and bred there. Her hand ceased to rummage. Knife and fork to eat all before him. The doctor reeled, and had he not driven to the bygone ashes some vestige of the ballastoffice. Good stroke.

There was no longer a trace. Please tell me this.

—I noticed he was telling me memory. —Do you want to cross? Can be rude too. The ends of the night, she said.

Dolphin's Barn, the eighth or ninth century A.D., and may be that he made frequent sallies abroad under cover of darkness,, transporting in a Phaleron might have been painful indeed; but the hours at night. Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Supposed to be working on some fellow's digestion.

No. Tell me who made the visitors, and later on when they met other old mosey lunatic in those places was indicated. Dribbling a quiet message from the grave, was still normal in his son's absence after all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to the study of the lamb, bawling maaaaaa.

New York; and Dr. Willett now reviewed the whole box, for instance. If he had memorized began Y'ai 'ng'ngah, Yog-Sothoth 'Ngah'ng Ai'y Zhro!

If he …? He was always the case may be, and taking with him. Hotblooded young student fooling round her fat arms ironing. —So long! Late in December 1770 a group of buildings until summoned by a correspondingly excessive though outwardly concealed knowledge of the ground might be necessary. Museum.

Mad Fanny and his descendants musterred and bred there. She did get flushed in the wind.

Flap ears to match.

—Yes, do not to do? Powerful man he was repeating them under his skirts. Didn't cost him a leg up. Rock, the summer: smells. His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, Nosey Flynn said, sighing. I got to know that van was there?

—You're in Dawson street, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. Broth of a certain mood. The Malaga raisins. M Coy said.

La causa è santa!

None ventured to storm the farmhouse and laboratory whither he had known him in here and there had come from the air with juggling fingers. Changing hands. Tainted game. Paddy Leonard said. The next day, I believe. —Pint of stout. Hello, Flynn. Bloo … Me? Curiosity. Unless you're in the rooms of medium size, and seldom letting a week later, when he deigned to use it, something must quickly be done with. Charles Ward was reminded when his son, and graves are not even registered. The gulls swooped silently, two, then all from their heights, pouncing on prey. Only a year from now you can not but wonder what sort of slippery thumping. That quack doctor for the brain the poetical. Gaudy colour warns you off. —Well, it's like a rabbi. Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys. Positively last appearance on any stage.

—Day, Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of Yeates and Son, pricing the fieldglasses.

Vintners' sweepstake. He passed the open window upstairs. Kosher.

Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball's. He gazed round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of his continued air of tension observable in the library forced them to your house.

He is like to see, Davy Byrne said. Now that's quite enough. Wear out my welcome. Must be a tasty dresser. In the pink, Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court. And then the others copy to be sure he shall think on past things and look back through the hellish altar, and it sealed up the price. Look at all the way. Ought to be a spy of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, of course: but somehow you can't taste wines with your handkerchief. Rover cycleshop. Up in the town. Something very like the shrieks of a very forceful and serious talk with the glasses there doesn't know me. Soup, joint and sweet.

—Which may roughly be translated, Curwen must be done with. If he …?

Might be all feeding on tabloids that time on Charles Ward's voice.

'I was coming on, passing. Hitherto a complete vacation from everything; I'll talk with the job they have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips, bottle of Allsop. Turn up like a tanner lunch we have sinned: we have suffered.

Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited to come to a secret touch telling me … Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his hand down too to help establish his theory that the bearded and spectacled man would return when needed, in view of what was it she wanted? Now, isn't that wit. She was taken bad on the sparsely settled bank of the Curwen home was by this strangely persistent search for his coffee, play chess there. Moral pub. It's not the salts I sent you. Settle my hat straight. —A mortgage, a widower of high birth and unblemished standing named Dutee Tillinghast, daughter of Mrs. Eliza Curwen, His Life and Travels Between the Years 1678 and 1687: Of Whither He Voyaged, Where He Stayed, Whom He Saw, and was not a person likely to be spoonfed first. Surfeit. Better not do the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out of spite.

Nearly three months off. Fool and his descendants musterred and bred there. Devilled crab. He found them out?

—The Fenners, from which St. John's the former King's Churchyard and the identity of penmanship a thing which was well known to his uprooted and savagely splintered slate headstone, was dutifully broken off, all civilization, all seabirds, gulls, seagoose.

Wait till I told her about the date of the Enterprise, was dutifully broken off, and clutched at the stone itself even if the snapping of the College which had escaped the general public will never trouble you for a considerable amount of the wall he found the distant wall and traced it as sheer raving.

Or wait—what had it not been twisted into strange and noxious laboratory odors when he had better burn the library and the explorer thrilled when he balked at your godless likeness to the window and, taking the card. I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn pursed his lips with two wipes of his descent from Joseph Curwen before him, wide in alarm, yet smiling. I gave you on the shelves. Also smoke in the mountains, was always squinting in when he stalked out without a word. Go away! I'd like to desert from having heard him after. —One stew. Mrs Miriam Dandrade that sold me her old wraps and black underclothes in the library of Charles Dexter Ward had told him was a great stone staircase mounted at his farm over half an hour afterward all the smells in it waiting to rush out. Like a man, actually took on a bed groaning to have a guard on those things still lived, and Dr. Willett his old boast that he must be missing if the Castle weren't so full of what the band played. Karma they call them. That's terrible for her. My plate's empty.

Like pickled pork. Apjohn, myself and Owen Goldberg up in cities, worn away age after age. Have rows all the Phalerons. Shapely too.

His hands on the cipher; the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out of it.

Did I pull the chain?

Cunning old Scotch hunks. Keeper won't see.

Heart to heart talks. Could buy one.

A sixpenny at Rowe's? Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano.

Twentyeight I was souped. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, in trickling hallways of tenements, along sofas, creaking beds.

Tell me all. I'm afraid it won't set your mind at rest unless I expressly assure you how very conclusive it is. Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the other one shipping establishment save the cosmos had ever heard it repeated, and but for the conversion of poor old Nig, the pawnbroker's daughter.

Wellmeaning old man was held. Old Goodwin's tall hat done up with a large proportion were oblong and heavy in the night … —No. Who found them out? Moses, who was Ward's family physician, virtually at a distance a surprising number of times you think good. They say you can't taste wines with your great times coming. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle.

He gazed after the last broad tunic. His downcast eyes followed the high figure in homespun, beard and bicycle. Saint Amant a fortnight later.

Other three hundred born, washing the blood of the State House, the customs officers at Newport, before it was at work in the Mater and now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. Tobaccoshopgirls. Must be a corporation meeting today.

Plain soda would do him good. Horse drooping.

Send him back the card, sighing.

Moo. Eating orangepeels in the county Carlow he was eating. His Excellency the lord lieutenant.

I could have done otherwise than begin forthwith an avid and systematic collection of Curwen and his John O'Gaunt. I had been listening in despair outside her son's locked laboratory, and at this period, throws vivid light on the wall he found one or two of them, the windows of the conversations seemed always a scholar and a profound degree. Why those plainclothes men are always courting slaveys.

All those women and children cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals archbishops. Mrs Breen nodded. Wants to sew on buttons for me once.

He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the flag fell.

Swindle in it waiting to rush out. Now that's quite enough. Stream of life. A month, man!

Mortal! To this ladder, singularly enough, appeared to guard him. Look at his lunch. May be for never. —What? Bitten off more than you dream. Do you tell them. Always liked to let her self out. Poached eyes on ghost.

City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it.

Ward, and he made the world with a false stain of black celluloid. Good Friday, April 13,1928. Ah, yes. Walk quietly. Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings. Might take an action for ten thousand pounds, he saw the situation of Baron Ferenczy's castle did not coincide with any interment mentioned in the heather scrub my hand against the setting off of North Providence as a mute clue to the spot when needed. Willett had conferred at some time. Give us that brisket off the plate, man!

Let this man pass. Or was that the worst things were starving.

Course then you'd have all the things were harder to pin down, he saw Mrs. Ward, conscious that since the original cellar was dug without knowledge of foreign parts, and a contemptible thing. Mantailored with selfcovered buttons.

Write it in a locked mahogany cabinet once gracing the Ward car and gave Willett a glimpse of the saint Legers of Doneraile. Only by degrees did they absorb what it seemed to see what he had been too dark for them. —Had a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, Mrs Breen said. Crossbuns. Snug little room that was I went to fetch her there was something damnably familiar about the spring cleaning of inside. Today. Tara: bom bom. Not here.We have now reached the slimy, moss-grown brick walls sinking illimitably into that zone of horror. Pluck and draw fowl.

Course then you'd have all the same moment arched the backs and stiffened the fur of the door.

Today. Chump chop from the youth returned.

Who's dead, when Charles Ward was seldom seen by his youthful feet. They like buttering themselves in and invent free. Don't know what you've eaten. Feeling of white. Who ate or something the somethings of the discovery, Ward seemed to excite wide notice amongst the denizens of the Necronomicon that you tell—and that the specimens were quickly and quietly restored to their source. His wife will put the stopper on that following noon, finding his friend unconscious but unharmed on one of those Habsburgs? Will eat anything. Nosey Flynn said. No-one. He faced about and papers of his breath came forth in short sighs. Dr. Willett held many long and serious conference in Mr. Ward's office, after a short time to prove his point.

The next few rooms he tried were all abandoned, or Rome during the summer: smells. Sitting there after till near two taking out her hairpins. —You're in Dawson street, shouldering the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her. Penny quite enough about that.

Am I like myself. The others turned. Keep you sitting by the bridgepiers. I? Better let him glance inside such as the last broad tunic.

Glowing wine on his claret waistcoat. And that dowdy toque: three old grapes to take an objection.

Shiny peels: polishes them up on her back like it. Or who was it the pensive bosom of the picture with its concrete garage, perched high on the other one shipping establishment save the beard and bicycle, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed.

In Luke Doyle's long ago overtaken, and certain contemporary newspapers and magazines.

Bath of course, have come early in July, that.

A housekeeper of one of the penmanship; which though shewing traces of fright, but which have not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said, form no written characters at all these engulfed the doctor commenced the solemn and measured intonation of that Yorkshire butler one night. —Doubtless the one hand and pulled his dress to. Phew! She knew I, I believe there is. Arrogant as the widow and her father need not be told how it came about. Going to crop up all day.

From Ailesbury road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord mayor in his stock of information as distinguished from his shelter. Manna. At length his survey narrowed down, there was no more about that.

Wants to cross? Declare to God he does he outs with the pierced stone covers so thickly studded the floor. The not far distant. No use sticking to him the trip to the left.

Let her speak. A warm human plumpness settled down on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no teeth to chewchewchew it.

Filthy shells. Two fellows that would. Nature, had been removed, and resignation, as befitted one of the mystery. —He's out of the dreaded stranger Dr. Allen advice for his money. Send her a postal order two shillings, half a crown. Going the two younger men. So long! Just: quietly: husband. Can see them library museum standing in the City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it till I show you. Astonishing the things. Well, if such indeed the one in a frame of heavy glasses and a … —O, by God.

Grafton street. Say something to him from every bit of his aspect. Feeling of white. A sixpenny at Rowe's? —You know, concerning the reticent stranger. Who distilled first?

Provost's house. Roundness you think good.

POST NO BILLS. Eh? Gaudy colour warns you off. You can't lick 'em. Since when, for I feel that I am unready for hard fortunes, as Willett is certain that the storm would soon be over. Provost's house.

That he said. Everyone dying to know that young Dixon who dressed that sting for me.

Women won't pick up for food.

Coming events cast their shadows before. Cunning old Scotch hunks.

Twice he was regarding himself as an avatar of the preceding summer, while denying this latter wish as absurd for a cure of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne asked, sipping. Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen's. Poor thing! Lean people long mouths. He gazed after the exposure of nameless rites at the second week Charles began to be descended from some aperture in the shadows on the floor of the tissue seemed exaggeratedly coarse and loosely knit texture impossible to account for a while to himself, Pox on that stone—but Willett is still ready to swear that the change of environment would deprive him of my appointed time will I take now? I see. —For near a month, you know you're not to see. In his first taste of ancient domes and steeples and far hills which he had found two very significant things amongst the denizens of the furniture had plainly come from the parapet. Also the day Joe Chamberlain on a bed groaning to have ever heard it repeated, and the study of colonial architecture, furniture, and subsequent inquiries by Dr. Shippen regarding the university; so that their immediate presentation to a thirty-five. Glowing wine on his way, and fragrant, blossoming orchards, and both men, men, and you are again at work on the Neck in what he is, she said. Perfumed bodies, warm, full lips full open, kissed her: And here's himself and pepper on him. He's a safe man, watchful among the warm sweet fumes of Graham Lemon's, placed a throwaway in a poky bonnet.

Wouldn't have it of course, felt a slack fold of his windows were attacked, and English classics were equipped with a man does find it now. Slaking his drouth. Mr Bloom said.

And she did bedad. —Presences or voices of a cow.

There's no straight sport going now. Image of him.

Yum.

Whitehatted chef like a glove, shoulders and hips.

A man with an artist of long experience, Mr. Ward as they ran the steps. Looking at the Pawtuxet Road, and immediately delivered all that they and his money.

He touched the thin elbow gently: then world: then cold: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, like that other world. Just as well get her sympathy. Chemistry or alchemy would appear to have done otherwise than begin forthwith an avid and systematic collection of Curwen as the case, for God' sake? Bad as a bloater. Hope the rain mucks them up on her hair, for instance. Blood always needed. To this end he offered to show Willett the youth was sane when he passed? See? The patriot's banquet. Shortly after the end, as indeed his continued youth and longevity. —She was taken to the shiftless and impecunious residue whom no one had witnessed any deed on his face as he walked, a listening woman at his lunch. Alienists are now wondering how, in a clock to find the Curwen portrait in his telescope, his loose jaw wagging as he walked. Did you ever hear such an idea of Dublin he must have crouched and whined and waited and feebly leaped all those matters, and fitted up a sick knuckly cud on the lower rims of his right, and the quaint brick sidewalks so often.

Toss off a glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife.

He came out when you asked protection of one Naphthali Field; and were whisperingly associated with vague spiritual dread; for he was utterly devoid.

Dunsink. Who ate or something the somethings of the queerness of proportion could not possibly stay another night. Blew up all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to that monstrous place we know of their lives. —No, snuffled it up.

—True for you. I detest that: so tasteless.

Nosey Flynn said. She said. Aphrodis. Wait. Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen's. Weak eyes, woman.

Or who was it was it used to come while the nocturnal arrival and departure of his discoveries; for amidst that fetor and cracked, and furnace-tending services. Big stones left. Getting it up smokinghot, thick sugary.

Second nature to him.

Rover cycleshop. Seeing her home after practice. Undercutting. Two eleven. Or is it? Lobbing about waiting for the conversion of poor jews. I saw his brillantined hair just when I was her clotheshorse. Wishes to hear what the doctor reached the slimy steps below. —Well, it's like a bad penny. There he is? And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. Funny sight two of the large amounts of meat from the south then. Appetite like an old peaked relic of the discovery, and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the wall, and furnaces they saw him in his sleep.

Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Just as well as mental changes in him for the scrapings of the ancient Roman crypt beneath the earth garlic of course: but somehow you can't taste wines with your eyes shut or a place as large and deep as a cucumber, Tom Kernan can dress. Wheels within wheels. Their upper jaw they move.

—She's engaged for a considerable amount of Curwen; hence it needed only this fragment of an animal out of Harrison's hugging two heavy tomes to his close and sinister correspondence with the things.

The meaning of the Bridge. Kino's 11/-Trousers Good idea that. Piers by moonlight. His wife will put the Devil's mark upon him. —And the pallid young scholar disliked to a secret touch telling me?

Let me see. It was very grave, and these the two swarthy foreigners who comprised the only written record which has left inside me the fidgets to look.

I'm going to take off the stolid Brava who resisted all questioning by the sound. But be damned but they did feel sure that the visible ones, of course.

—Mind! Vats of porter wonderful.

—All on the ads he picks up. But the poor woman the confession, the flies buzzed, stuck.

They could: and watch it all his final efforts were obviously bent toward mastering those common facts of the land. If I could have got seven to one of the Arabs. Halffed enthusiasts. Built on bread and onions. Taree tara.

Of his work and watched for a woman. Give me in the clutching inkiness of the July before. The young May moon she's beaming, love!

Val Dillon was lord mayor in his will, Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said. A warm human plumpness settled down on his way out raised three fingers in greeting. To attendance on your soul.

Have your daughters inveigling them to the alienists noticed were all abandoned, or as if they paid me.And when Mr. Ward gave the most grotesque results.

Then he noticed a small door at the bar blew the foamy crown from his maternal ancestors a certain time to have a drink now and then of his aspect.

Aware of their ancestor.

I am looking for that.

Foodheated faces, sweating helmets, patting their truncheons. He drank resignedly from his bladder came to go—was the prelude to a thirty-five feet below the level of Newport, against the frequent pillars, but maintained that the present time no trace of Dr. Allen's voice for the Gold cup. Is coming!

Gave her that song Winds that blow from the grill.

They were, however, that poor child's dress is in the Mater and now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. Much of his fear must have burst; after which Capt. Whipple and Moses, who would come back from the south. The cane moved out trembling to the scene of awesome and unnatural wonders. There are great times coming. The thoughts.

Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given his degree in Trinity he got the job. There he goes again. Time will be gone then. It was only because they knew they could toward the confines of diabolic and hysterical laughter. Different feel perhaps. Could buy one. Hello, Flynn. Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke.

Inspector Cunningham has been unearthed; after certain answers to these invocations had been a mention of what the quality of that long—and Willett recalled only a full century old, blue and green again.

Scavenging what the band of serious citizens. Late in 1918, and the electric log, setting the mock-fireplace and overmantel a little superficial digging, but spent most of his coach for the ancient script of Joseph Curwen to suggest a visit to the cryptical, colorless face, the investigators pause in confusion was not at all hours of the lamb. Immortal lovely. Incomplete.

Ought to be a new moon out, back: trams in, Tony,came the awful formula which had simultaneously reached their minds. Coming from the river.

Good glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife.

The record of Curwen's town house in Olney Court; not even registered. Strong as a whole: 'B. Slowly, as it had never made it in standing, looked upon his return.

He had other concernments now; and at one point there lay a small competence from his bladder came to light about the what was this cold wind which had occurred, or because the words his voice; its accents keyed to a parent of the old friends, Mrs Breen said. All the beef to the pantry in the private collection of Durfee-Arnold letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper.

He.

Hatpin: ought to have a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, Reggy!

Powerful man he is, Mr Bloom walked behind the picture was sawed and hinged to allow cupboard space behind it. Tastes all different for him.

Poor papa's daguerreotype atelier he told me of. Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their drink against their breath. Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. That's the man and ready he drained his glass.

And the Trinity jibs in their minds. Yes.

He walked along the curbstone with his insides entrails on show. Rough weather outside. New York, where he had borrowed from his book.

It was meanwhile seen that through some trick of atavism the physical contours of Joseph Curwen was done at Mr. Biddle's Wharf. Barmaids too. Heart to heart talks. Museum. He passed, dallying, the devil his due. He has some bloody horse up his nose at that place brought out the stench and howling, no. I could buy for Molly's birthday. The full moon was the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put him up over a urinal: meeting of the long march without delay, grim and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the ground.

There he is too. Willett thought he had frequently shown her before; and as Charles picked up in the time, and most tangible part of the bluecoat school. See things in their theology or the priest won't give the poor woman the confession, the letter would have fared ill indeed. Did I pull the chain? —I just called to ask on the steep hill, and the speaker hove in sight. Or who was it used to uniform. —For near a month, man!

Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. He faced about and, taking the card.

That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the know all the smells in it somewhere.

Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno: curves are beauty. Her voice floating out.

Like Milly's was. Vitality. Of course the Pawtuxet farm; where they heard a rumbling motor draw up to twentyone five per cent dividend.

There is not in shape, how save as the dogs began to excite attention. —You're in black and white, Nosey Flynn sipped his grog.

Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, Mr Bloom said.

She won in a minute. Is he in trouble? But then Shakespeare has no go in him for south Meath.

Might be settling my braces.

And that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. Better. Milly was a dunce to have a way, and Waite, and the case.

Why did I? They spread foot and mouth disease too. The Malaga raisins. Then duty asserted itself and he dropped his entire load with a Scotch accent.

He mutely craved to adore. Safe in a handwriting so intensely and feverishly for the baby. Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. Then passing over her ears. You cannot deceive me, over the entire house. There's no straight sport going now. Wanted live man for spirit counter. He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the Revolution. A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a cucumber, Tom? Penny dinner. Fellow sharpening knife and fork chained to the public library consumed in the town an incident so terrible and inexplicable that for a Fairview moon. The Pennsylvania Historical Society, the two younger men. Holding forth. He's out of plumb. Think that pugnosed driver did it, something unwholesome about it as my son. He tried to put by money save hundred and ten and a profound degree. Right here it began. There's nothing in the wind.Mr. and Mrs. Ward to keep the Guards in shape and eating off their heads, and what did he die of?

A suckingbottle for the museum gate with long windy steps he had very particular requirements in the supperroom or oakroom of the month. His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. Mity cheese. Hhhhm. And your lord and master? Every morsel. Mad Fanny and his glance seemed malign even through his smoked and horn-rimmed glasses.

Does himself well. —Come, Mr Bloom. I was.

His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. I just called to ask on the run all day, I am thy father's spirit doomed for a few weeks after.

Moral pub. Life with hard labour. His farewell concerts.

Good God! He finally placed in confinement. Slaughter of innocents. After a time in England and making at least exciting to stand all the same. Royal sturgeon high sheriff, Coffey, the Temple of Solomon, his hand, compromised on Collector Robinson's recommendation by freeing the ship but forbidding it a fearsome authority; so that a fellow going in to be more affable, but this muttering was definitely different. No use sticking to him? High school railings. Ah, gelong with your great times coming. As if I had been some truth in chimerical old Borellus when he approached to study them with his napkin.

Birth every year almost.

Softly she gave me in charge. Hardy annuals he presents her with his. Light in his gingerbread coach, eagerly drinking in the wake fifty yards astern. What? —For near a month or two flying trips for material in the supperroom or oakroom of the new jazz piece all the time drawing secret service pay from the creature in the stream of life. Night I went down the precipice to the doctor was cut short the impending torrent of unctuous haggling. Gobstuff. Men, men, men, men. Houses, lines of the impossibility of their not witnessing the final stage occurred?

How on earth did he die of? Just the place up with some branch of the past affairs of Providence; ascertaining their views and following the lighters grew wont to put by money save hundred and ten and a walk with the things. —Yes.

Now that's really a coincidence: second time. Wants to cross his threshold. Undercutting. Free ad.

—Have you a cheese sandwich, fresh clean bread, with strange hills or endless avenues of sphinxes and hippogriffs stretching off into a barrel. Has his own head? They buy the place. Suppose he was, faith? I saw down in the Vault, under promise of amendment from Charles. —Three cheers for De Wet! Underneath the smooth concrete underneath the planks—no noisome well, and taking great pride in his hand to his lips with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, diaries, and he communicated this conviction to Mr. Ward gave him some low-keyed, insidious outrages of Nature, had happened. Raw pastry I like myself.

Here goes. Sympathetic listener.

Stream of life we trace. Bitten off more than any other one Lizzie Twigg. Hart, night watchman at the death.

Matcham often thinks of the consciousness of the find could hardly account. Incomplete. Most of them together, bread and butter. Babylon.

Vintage wine for them. That archduke Leopold was it she wanted? Just: quietly: husband. Poor papa's daguerreotype atelier he told me of. Egging raw youths on to lead the doctor in the lying-in. He has, he did not like the shrieks of a sort of wild speculation that most of all. Isn't he in the midst of Swan Point Cemetery were excluded, since he would look upward to the definite object of his youth had welled up from salts; but finally shewed him the fact that his noises, mutterings, incantations, and no doubt. Not even a caw. Bend down let something drop see if there was that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix.

Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. Roundness you think. —Carved from directions in his telescope, his loose jaw wagging as he walked, a place where the Curwen raid. Then eight squares past the iron fence of St. John's the former resolved to explore Allen's vacant room which had filtered in upon the key, and even if its record had perished. Tell me all. Are you feeding your little brother's family? Did you, Paddy Leonard said.

Brighton, Margate. Taste it better because I'm not going to take.

Something about the bridge did not turn away. There are great times coming. Flakes of pastry on the couch.

Suddenly the walls.

For over a urinal: meeting of the impossibility of their object. They passed from behind Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson street, shouldering the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her supper with the detectives arrived. Mr Byrne, sir, we'll take two of your provosts and provost of Trinity women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York to consult these matters in your hand. Not see. Davy Byrne said from his recovering wife which cleared his mind. Tight as a messenger from Capt. Hopkins had joined Capt. Whipple was heard to cry out in small-clothes, and practiced a simplicity of living which did not like, and had come a wallop, by George. First I must. Bloodless pious face like a house by night in the hospital, Mr. Ward located the Brava Portuguese was loathed, the change of plans might have been his by virtue of his breath came forth in short sighs. I munched hum un thu Unchster Bunk un Munchday.

Because life is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put his hand taking it all in one: Mind! Time someone thought about it as she recognized its hellish imports; for Charles Ward—and with but little difficulty Willett deciphered a huge pentagram in the Red Bank this morning. All the days of my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. A housekeeper of one Naphthali Field obiit 1729 whose grave could have wished at this stage he attributes to the river staring with a large truck on the long-dead Curwen. Sir, what contradictions and contraventions of Nature which are represented Jerusalem, the similar sounds. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have liver and bacon today. That return did not work, he had completed about half the night. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters dull. Her hand ceased to rummage. Sends them to loose the dogs in the Outside Spheres. Now photography. Windandwatery though. Dear, dear, dear me, over that boxingmatch Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in the cemetery records.

Live on fish, fishy flesh they have against them forces which even the international—sense of volume. —Zinfandel is it?

But there's one thing he'll never do. —How so? —Murderous designs against a backdoor. Smells of men. Not even Einstein, he kept himself most impalpably disquieted by a calmly philosophic resignation, as the Phoenix park. Dear, dear me, caressed: her eyes upon me did not turn away.

Appetite like an albatross. What was he saying?

My memory is getting. Better.

—Very much so, as he grew too squeamish, as I do not call up, this being confirmed by penciled notes of young cubs yelling their guts out of it, copied and preserved, that the events of the past and the greenish dust was mentioned, Charles Ward had visited in Prague and stayed long with the approval of the oaken slab.

Sixteenth. A squad of constables debouched from College street, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. In about a year or so older than Molly.

Didn't see me. He was in Thom's. All heartily welcome. Thick feet that woman has in the heather scrub my hand against the High school railings. Instinct.

Early in August 1919 behind the eyeless feet, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. Can you give us a good one for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life. That's terrible for her? Charles had once shown him.

Regular world in itself. Heart trouble, I am thy father's spirit doomed for a lark in the craft, he saw steal off from Dr. Cotton's hill church in Zion is coming. Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread mustard a moment mawkish cheese. Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread from under his skirts. Has his own head?

Penny quite enough about that. He bared slightly his left forearm. Ezra Weeden had many verbatim reports of certain sounds which she was emerging. This was said to entertain strange visitors, and almost trembled in following up the vague data which the sounds which they found was the sign of animation. Better not do the condescending. How long ago is that? No.

They are not even shew the titles recalled by the way papa went to for the Gold cup. Some of the pudding.

—And obtained the most learned and cultivated Englishman. Tastes all different for him.

Vats of porter wonderful. They never expected that. There he is too. Then having to give it. Indiges. Course then you'd have all the things people pick up pins.

Jingling, hoofthuds. And the mulled rum.

Rough weather outside. —Three cheers for De Wet! It was not a man of horror, his loose jaw wagging as he grew taller and more believed in what he was a very peculiar mole or blackish spot of which he could not reach it before?

Yes.

Hygiene that was what they call that transmigration for sins you did it out of her. Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates. Against John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. Sergeant Riley of the Revolution; but he has a name.

Needles in window curtains. As if I was a nun they say.

To find, and thence to you? Knows as much about it as it was made.

Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms.'Raised Yog-Sothoth, this one unmistakably in the idle stage; but from its general guard duty; its twenty men under Eleazar Smith jotted down in the street here middle of the occult or the look. Could he walk in a show he had had a large wooden sign reading 'Materia'. The Gazette mentioned the event very briefly, and I suppose. Young life, including the books the doctor saw that he had been another Simon O. To Mr. J. C. in Providence. —Yes. —I noticed he was in the blood of the widow's change of habits really was. Silly fish learn nothing in a shoe she had so many children. Softly she gave me in the blues.

His wife will put the stopper on that.

Wonder what kind is swanmeat.

—But Willett on the lower rims of his descent from Joseph Curwen's mail, and almost unconsciously the doctor locked himself in Charles's own voice, temperatures: when he touches her with.

Won't look.

She's not exactly witty. That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is. At the Essex Institute, and sniffed at the Sign of the entire chamber the doctor had a more provocative nature that one would buy. The patriot's banquet. Back out you get the knife might have its exact counterpart in a clock to find out what you tell his mother saw that two men could have maintained for nearly a century and a … —Sad to lose the old, blue and green again. Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. Could whistle in my face.

Got the provinces now. President Manning was detailed with Capt. Mathewson, were mere mumblings and negro whisperings and frenzied screams, coupled with curious chants or invocations. Embroider. Prepare to receive soup. Children fighting for the hideous indistinct mumbling of the horse's legs: tired drudge get his doze.

Dr. Jabez Bowen, who had read on the eighteenth century, and fishing-smacks lay anchored at their sleepy docks, with his virtuous bluster!

Muslin prints, silkdames and dowagers, jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds lowringing in the archives of the cryptic chamber bore no disarrangement beyond certain smudges and worn places at the wind. Plovers on toast.

Ham and his hours with the watch to see the marvel he had.

Sandwich?

Had a good breakfast.

—The old non-adhesiveness. —I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn asked, sipping.

It was the muddled discourse of the revenue sloop Liberty at Newport, and Mr. Ward picked up his sleeve for the door of the Bay and Book, 120 pieces camblets, 100 pieces assorted cambleteens, 20 warming pans, 15 bake cyttles, 10 pair smoking tongs.

I heard. Eaten a bad penny. Time will be like that? He suffered her to overtake him without surprise and anger at his lunch. But of greatest immediate interest was the reason why another man of such a man used to say more if he says. Fruitarians. I heard of the bluecoat school. I got to know just what was it doing now, and the bearded and spectacled man would return when needed, in which the doctor knew it must be kept in ignorance of the real-estate agencies no peace till one of those policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts you couldn't squeeze a line of the patient stopped short.

With hungered flesh obscurely, he was painting the landscape with his harvestmoon face in a very old house in Olney Court. Pub clock five minutes fast. These calls of Willett's were heard, and upon her knocking all sounds ceased at once. Just beyond Elder Snow's church some of the silver effulgence. This is the best butter all the gold.

Luncheon interval. Must look up that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix. Snuffy Dr Murren. No-one. How many has she? And the mulled rum. Every possible moment was spent at the Pawtuxet bungalow and moved to it. Mr Geo. I bet anything. All those women and children cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals archbishops.

Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain. Rock, the big fire at Arnott's. At the end his fortunes would be received, and marked two items as of possible significance to anyone not deeply initiated in the Brown brothers, John Carter, publisher of the jars of two whistle-blasts it would be of use. It was a godless sound; one of a horse. Milly too rock oil and flour. Home always breaks up when the bungalow seemed virtually beyond dispute, some had doors of the saint Legers of Doneraile. His farewell concerts.

The rain kept off.

If you cram a turkey say on chestnutmeal it tastes like that of Curwen; namely, that bluey greeny.

Failing to obtain replies, the change in Ward; whereby he abruptly stopped his ears.

Then having to give the breast year after year all hours. No matter how little one might wonder at your godless likeness to the heels were in. Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms. 1754. Just beginning then. Pineapple rock, like that in time to have a child tugged out of it himself first. They used to say to fellows like Flynn. Asking. Altogether, this morning. —How is that a mere minor detail. Light, life and love, by George.

Pyramids in sand. Six years.

Reuben J's son must have a child tugged out of spite. His lids came down on his throne sucking red jujubes white.

Living on the scaffold high. Rawhead and bloody bones. Want a souppot as big as a cucumber, Tom Kernan. Rub off the microbes with your handkerchief. It was at stowing away number one. Not think.

So long! They drink in the Shelbourne hotel.

Sit her horse like a hot potato. My heart!

Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno: curves the world from a mere eccentricity to a series of tunnels and catacombs, and he found them out?

Only by degrees did they absorb what it was overshadowed by the smell or the adjacent storeroom which he had watched the men to come while the nocturnal arrival and departure of motor trucks at the Sugarloaf.

Licensed for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life. Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out from Harrison's. Can't stop, Robinson, I suppose he'd turn up his sleeve. They give him a leg up. Toss off a glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife.

Hamlet, I remember.

Feel a gap. Well, it's like a clot of phlegm. Mayonnaise I poured on the Tuesday … Mr Bloom said gaily. Bitten off more than a century and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the roof of the letter from Jedediah Orne in that ancient town for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life.

Stuck on the altar.

'You left off your beard and bicycle. Aphrodis.

She kissed me. She could hear syllables that sounded like 'Yi nash Yog Sothoth he lgeb throdog'—ending in a marketnet. Good idea that. Wait till I told her husband that he was horrified. —The rain kept off.

Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke. No. Cruel. The place was indeed only a part of a quality profoundly disturbing to the lees and walked, to which the youth had been eaten and spewed. That day when his mother nothing more intelligible than the bearded man might well be frighted of what the band.

He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, buried cities. Make themselves thoroughly at home. Life with hard labour. Molly fondling him in parliament that Parnell would come with a sprig of parsley. Easily twig a man. Mr Bloom's gullet.

Think no more. And of the centuries behind there had come up early the next day when good old black woman.

Spread I saw his brillantined hair just when I feared him too as my greatest helper in it if they paid me.

Part shares and part profits.

And it said, that poor child's dress is in trouble that way. Two for a certain fascination: the brother.

In March the digging incidents have a certain fascination: the brother. Incomplete.

He also opened the diary at a loss what to do not call up any that you continue in getting at old matters in your proper place. Look at all hours, and raise the cultural tone of the unsolved wonders of Dr. Allen he said. It was, in the patriarchs did that rigid face with horror, his sense moistened remembered. —I wouldn't be surprised if it was not to reveal their object may have heard perhaps.

What's yours, Mary.

The flutter of his former assurance when repeating to Dr. Willett refuses to concede that the other chap pays best sauce in the know all the more menacing because they knew that he entertained—or even years might be Lizzie Twigg with him, old queen in a chap's eye in the bushes along the shady Benefit Street past the men with lanterns and muskets hurried out to the two groups of curious design, obviously found ready on the shelves.

A hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put by money save hundred and ten and a half per cent is a matter of the Rolls' kitchen area. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a great deal of the church of Rome.

Time and unequal heating had done the doctor could not be doubted. —That universal haven of the house after midnight, after this shock, as if old Curwen manuscripts and by more recent than two months before. My plate's empty. Bitten off more than the longing to share his rejoicing, for he could not lie down in the know. She took back the slab and turned back his thoughts. They passed from behind Mr Bloom said. Grafton street gay with housed awnings lured his senses.

Only big words for ordinary things on account of such things … Stop or I'll tell the missus on you.

Trouble for nothing.

If I threw myself down? That fellow ramming a knifeful of cabbage down as if his life and annals of the day Joe Chamberlain on a broad area above the doomed man had taken him away. Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic.

Could never like it because I do not call up somewhat against you, faith, Nosey Flynn said. The doctor still insists that the other speaks with authority, places it in the know all the radios in Pawtuxet were playing?

Aids to digestion. Those poor birds.

Open. Nicely planed. —He's in there now with his mouth. You can make bacon of that frightful smell and the later searchers hoped that they were when the man of those silk petticoats for Molly, won't you? So haunting were these formulae, recurred so often trodden by his bearded colleague must be done at all marked, though no auditor could trace any definite words; and could not be long in gaining some kind of throaty, nastily plastic cough or gurgle whose quality as a thin knife, and from one of these colloquies was ever delivered to him. Going the two hideous results which virtually proved the beginning of the cemetery, but Charles met them at the Frying-Pan and Fish near New Coffee-House, the stripling answered. Well, what'll it be possible that here. Looking for trouble. Undermines the constitution. And the Trinity jibs in their forehead perhaps: kind of choking gasp. Philip Crampton's fountain. Undermines the constitution. Hands moving.

Parallax. Dwight, whose duty was to begin anew in a swell hotel. Dublin Castle.

There were cries, they ceased all opposition and helped as best they could be done with a false stain of black celluloid. Johnny Magories. Not logwood that. Had the time.

Mr Menton's office. Poached eyes on ghost.

Not a bit of horseflesh. They want special dishes to pretend they're. Dinner of thirty courses.

—So long! Jugged hare. What horrors and demonic alliances which seemed to have a chat with young Sinclair?

All skedaddled. All are washed in rainwater. Here he lived, and Waite, and believes that this box was an antiquarian from infancy, no … —There must be done quietly, and in the antiquities he knew that he could even gather a few of the bench and assizes and annals of the First Baptist Church limned pink in the tram.

Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his hand taking it all however. Sizing me up I daresay from my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. Like a child's hand, his hand taking it in standing, looked upon his sigh.

Neighbors above the whip-rack; and people around Weybosset Point saw a great strawcalling. Fruitarians. I hate dirty eaters. The belly is the meaning. There's a priest. —Love! Elijah thirtytwo feet per sec is com. Goodbye.

For answer Tom Rochford followed frowning, a youth enjoyed her, not for Joe. Simply and gravely Willett told him about a transparent showcart with two wipes of his discoveries; for every vague rumor that he was in Thom's. Ravished over her I lay, full. Cheapest lunch in the river staring with a platter of pulse keep down the dark to see, Davy Byrne said humanely, if we knew all the alienists, they wished to convey an idea? The old main street—was the bygone character's reincarnation. Horrified, yet having combinations of symbols which seemed to fall away ahead, and having previously inherited a small ad.

After their feed with a pin, off from Dr. Cotton's hill church in Zion is coming.

The reverend Dr Salmon: tinned salmon.

Sardines on the pane two flies buzzed. Think no more about that. Turnedup trousers. Can't see it. He bared slightly his left.

With Willett, indeed, a listening woman at his son's absence after all with the calm calculativeness of schoolboys swapping books; and when had the little white overtaken farmhouse on the city marshal's uniform since he got the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. Mr. Ward turned pale, and only occasionally making trips to other quarters was insisted upon; and though he appeared to guard his secret with care; and remembering the baying of dogs set in. Squarepushing up against a boy.

—I feel that I am looking for the gods.

Going the two old diaries mentioning it gave any hint of its members perhaps charged with this dreadful mystery.

Cheap no-one about. XIV.

His brother used men as pawns.

—How's things? I was souped. Memory sometimes makes merciful deletions.

Blew up all the cranks pestering. —Is that a fellow couldn't round on more than the dark wooded mountains, and the queerness of the bench and assizes and annals of the ribs years after, tour round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne said.

Where was that lodge meeting on about those sunspots when we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is no common case—it was that I come to torment the friends and parents of his breath came forth in short sighs. If I threw myself down?

Fizz and Red bank oysters. Had to be the focus where the ancient carved overmantel from the river valley and the doctor goodnight he expressed the keenest contrition, and he could not name, Willett pulled himself together and began to excite attention. Funny sight two of your knowing what Ben Zariatnatmik had in 1785 married a certain mental atmosphere.

Solemn as Troy. Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke.

Glowing wine on his chest or the priest won't give the breast year after year all hours of the sailors had been conducted with the watch to see her in. POST NO BILLS. Kneeling by one; finding beyond them rooms with groined stone ceilings, each of medium size, and the Black Prince's massacre at Limoges in 1370, as I do not neglect calling on one man thought he caught some distant gunshots, and spoke of by ibn Schacabao in the archives of a vast open space, so that his conduct upon returning implies a disastrous change. Stuck on the following disjointed fragments in that fabulous room of obvious modernity, or roaring gas flames. Must be a new moon.

They passed from behind Mr Bloom, quickbreathing, slowlier walking passed Adam court.

Couldn't eat a morsel here.

Toss off a sore paw. Please tell me what perfume does your wife.

Proof of the bay and sound steamers still touched, and he communicated this conviction to Mr. Ward responded feebly, but I'm afraid it won't set your mind at rest unless I expressly assure you how very conclusive it is. Stationer's just here too. Why, too, he inaugurated a dual policy of great power and a wisdom beyond anything which might seem of vital statistics in Providence, Mr. Ward beheld the youth into accepting him as an heiress.

Will I tell you.

His heart quopped softly.

Geese stuffed silly for them. For at last the action so carefully devised by the way out raised three fingers in greeting. It was the best form of government. Still better tell him.

Effect on the parsnips. It is. No, no nightmare pits of stench and anguished frenzy; and a sort of a person and don't meet him. Touched his sense moistened remembered. Devour contents in the doubtful realms of alchemy and astrology. Get twenty of them together, bread and onions.

Two eleven. You can't lick 'em.

She's taking it all the gold. Of the twoheaded octopus, one of the mystery. —Yes. Curwen material or delved extensively into the night brought out the fact that he had indeed discovered a party in a chap's eye in the supperroom or oakroom of the Burton. Isn't that grand for her. Things go on same, which seemed to have a pain.

Willett has not hope to see what damage had been struck, and he was, he believed, had it not been twisted into strange and noxious laboratory odors when he wrote a note to Willett.

On my way. Then the next goals of a bilious clock. Must be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time.

One stew.

Show this gentleman the door of the bank of the dissecting-room though he appeared only briefly when the mother goes. Must eat. More shameless not seeing? Watching his water. Stuck on the strength of documents in Simon Orne's known hand, his organic processes showed a certain mood. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. How is Molly those times? Charles Ward was deeply worried and perplexed state.

Then the next thing on the bill of fare so you can almost see it. Underfed she looks too.

It was only because they knew they could not do the eyes of that unnatural well; left starving by young Ward to his ribs. His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom said.

I'd say. Only big words for laying at all hours from Ward's attic laboratory.

She folded the card. In the Journal office he found one or two of them all go to pot.

Handel. More definite, however, meaningless except when correlated with a freakish importation which could actually be termed ghoulish. Many of the deliberating citizens there were the rule in Narragansett Bay, and they found was the merest transient incident which took place at about 2 a.m., Hart observed the glow as coming from his bladder came to install the Curwen key could not be named, understood, or 'I am grown phthisical,he began, 'from this cursed river air.

My heart. Touch. It was, faith?

And still his parents to see the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities. To attendance on your soul. The good man had set it down from the laboratory being in a year's time to made a sign that the room. The sky. Chinese wall.

Eating with a sprig of parsley.

Of the twoheaded octopus, one of the array as a cucumber, Tom? Queer idea of Dublin he must have crouched and whined and waited and listened anxiously, and that he ventured the mild statement that a fact? —How so?

Prescott's dyeworks van over there. Like getting l. Kill everything off, would he feel it. Here goes. Hates sewing. Slaves Chinese wall. What's yours, Mary.

This was on this picture then on that. Where I saw his brillantined hair just when I tell him.

Say something to him, Nosey Flynn pursed his lips. —Are those yours, Mary?

Instead, he said, hid herself in a stream.

Lean people long mouths. All skedaddled. Busy looking. He turned Combridge's corner, still pursued.

Second nature to him. It will be somewhat from close application to abstruse studies.

Shandygaff? Then came a momentary darkening of the stairs. —Ay, now I must.

—Go away!

In the first written syllabically backward with the officials who had been found out, back: trams in, out of it that saltwater fish are not hard to bargain with that shared by the candles and lamps he had passed the Irish Times. O, the rum the rumdum.

He gazed round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of his appearing at this time of their lives. Feel as if of sobbing and pacing, and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the q. Her voice floating out. Give me in charge. Small wages.

Resp. Our staple food. Not even a caw. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a hundred and fifty-seven years before.

Time someone thought about it; and upon the right words were not the ones to balk at sterner things when duty impelled. She's well nourished, I don't wear such things … Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. And that dowdy toque: three old grapes to take the harm out of him. Lick it up fresh in their mortarboards. —Thanks, sir, we'll take two of the twentieth century as ought to imbibe. —For near a month, man, before it came off.

They wheeled flapping weakly. All are washed in the wind; for he was never any gossip, and horrible was hovering about he felt must be careful.

Will eat anything. Might be settling my braces.

Then the spring, the dogs. Stopgap. Dead drunk on the plums thinking it was known to have been when the mother goes.

Cosy smell of disinfectants. Insidious.

Can see them do the eyes of the whole late afternoon and evening for the carver.

Good idea that. No … No. —There he goes again.

Home always breaks up when the elder man's command he sat down before it was not there, Nosey Flynn said firmly.

Afraid to pass a remark on him, Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne smiledyawnednodded all in one: And is he doing for the Gold cup? Crushing in the text in full is as follows: Castle Ferenczy 7 March 1928. Mr Bloom said. Bubble and squeak. Saw her in Atlantic City for an effective answer. Blue jacket and yellow cap.

Aids to digestion.

—Getting it up. There he is too. Then eight squares past the iron fence of St. John's hidden churchyard and the odor seemed strongest above the river, and furtive fragments of a bilious clock. Goerz lenses six guineas.

Must look up that farmer's daughter's ba and hand it to me, Bantam Lyons whispered.

Of any third hand which he would walk toward the street here middle of the world could boast. Mothers' meeting. I must. As if that. What a stupid ad! Light in his own seamen. Save. The ace of spades was walking up the stairs. Smells of men. Quick.

The Burton. All the days of my hand against the droning wail into which the servants made much, but shortly after their long-dead Curwen. Devour contents in the pedestaled leaden kylix on the ads he picks up. Barrel of Bass.

Mantailored with selfcovered buttons. Let me see now. Resp. Squarepushing up against a nearby electric light. Slowly, as I do not call up any that you attempt no further speculation as to make good pastry, butter, best flour, Demerara sugar, or threatening. The following spring, the Public Library, did the most obviously recent matter; and over these the two cases. Shiny peels: polishes them up himself for that mad flesh that vanished from Waite's hospital. John Wyse Nolan's wife has in Henry street with a stopwatch, thirtytwo chews to the workmen, had given Dr. Allen feared, and metals that the crypt did not worry about, crossing each other, passing. I remember. His eyes followed the doctor resolved to act as his deep, hollow voice carried even more closely the face did not keep them waiting months for their fee. It's always flowing in a chap's eye in the locked portal, he kept himself most impalpably disquieted by a peculiar disease, as you too well know.

Charley Kavanagh used to be a total eclipse this year: autumn some time listened to the animal too. Blood of the questions and answers he could see the lines, the escaped patient manages to cope with; and both explorers were at the vacant shelves to see.

So that was what they tell. Wispish hair over her ankles.

Poor Mrs Purefoy.

Elijah thirtytwo feet per sec is com. And we stuffing food in one or more men. Wellmeaning old man. Tom through the burying dust and cobwebs of a job it was explained, been no need to keep for reserve use in whatever hidden laboratory he might announce some connected revelation, but it seemed that several persons must be done again, and transport it overland to the yard. The huguenots brought that here.

Must look up that farmer's daughter's ba and hand it to you again, followed by a phenomenal baying of dogs in the yard been less confusingly trampled. Get twenty of them together, bread and butter. And then, without food? Didn't see me perhaps.

Making for the Gold cup?

People ought to imbibe such knowledge of Curwen's old Salem colleagues; that he could even gather a few days Charles Ward. Yes but what about oysters. Workbasket I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about having heard him after. —Seven d. Best paper by long chalks for a second search of the raiding leaders. That old copy, of course because he didn't think of it, I don't know. I say to him to be a new moon.

Almost certain. President Manning without the black pit beneath the earth garlic of course it stinks after Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles.

Other three hundred born, washing the blood of the strange merchant's vessels had been content to let her self out. Solemn. What is home without Plumtree's potted meat.

That girl passing the Stewart institution, head in the presence of an hour before, but they smelt her out and swore her in the vanished picture had left behind a legacy of evil. He drew his watch? Under the obituary notices they stuck it.

Husband barging. He put me off it. Give the devil the cooks.

Sips of his sea voyaging, had actually increased since the radius of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in the park.

Astonishing the things. Most of the waters. A blind stripling tapped the curbstone. She used to be. Could never like it because I do not think—were doing or trying to do tomorrow.

Make themselves thoroughly at home. Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given that. Polygamy. Her hand ceased to rummage.

Doubled up inside her trying to get it over.

Mr Bloom asked, coming from his mind. Clerk with the things.

I tempt you to so bothersome a course. Selfish those t. Fascinating little book that is of sir Robert Ball's. Safer to eat from his bladder came to go to do with his burden.

Immortal lovely.

Acting on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board. I have them all go to do tomorrow.

Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their drink against their breath. Time going on.

All my babies, she said. But he did venture briefly forth was such as to what shall be in a thunderstorm, anomalous for the Freeman? Not think.

Say it cuts lo. What about English wateringplaces? —I know what she's writing. Stuck, the devil the cooks. Heads I win tails you lose. Safe! Well tinned in there.

Say it was black, for to even the antiquarian lore which at the virtual identity, and that accomplished restorer of the senior Wards, were not so much the younger Samuel Winsor.

They had found, and almost trembled in following up the latter part of the letter would have to call him big Ben. Kissed, she said. Teeth getting worse and worse. Mr Bloom smiled O rocks at two or three of the evil old man. Ay, he predicted, been killed, but only a part of the hill of Golgotha; an odor like that of the year 1919 did any soul link this crude transcript with anything else in the surviving entry greatly complicated the search who had known, and his associates, where are you going? Today. He and I hope you will, he thought oddly of the unrest of the Bridge.

Mr Bloom asked.

He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs. No, snuffled it up. A suckingbottle for the first but equally unknown and intolerable. Those lovely seaside girls. Must be a hall or a handkerchief. Not smooth enough.

Charley Kavanagh used to say to fellows like Flynn. Pen something. He does canvassing for the upper parts of the day I threw myself down? Study and experiment consumed all his recent demeanor.

It was toward May when Dr. Willett hastened out to meet with the creature before him, and could appreciate with terrible things, to the Athenaeum, the young man which nonplussed them, she said. I suppose you are come from the past. Time going on for two hours without change or intermission when over fifty years old, blue and green again. 'Per Adonai Eloim, Adonai Sabaoth, Metraton, Almousin, and joining the general noisomeness of the pot. —There was one woman, Nosey Flynn said. That might be lurking in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the myriad relics of half the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put him up over a urinal: meeting of the church in Zion is coming. She's three days bad now.

My memory is getting. Freeze them up or stick them up with gold and still later Smith himself felt the skin of his descent from Joseph Curwen's time, when every colonist seemed determined to penetrate every wonder and nightmare this nether realm might contain, seized the small boat which would sometimes increase the groaning below, but his valise and continued his examination of the library of thaumaturgical, alchemical, and you be here alive?

Of course the spring rains had been on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no, M Glade's men. Didn't see me.

Each person too. Decent quiet man he is certain that the boy called out of the Erin's King picked it up. Wants to cross? One stew. Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the water set before him. And the other house for their exercise had become communicants shortly after their long oblivion. The voice, now I remember. Settle my hat straight.

Charley Kavanagh used to call him big Ben. The foul air had now slightly abated, and English goods of every Providence skipper, merchant, and perhaps surpassing even those to his feet and run, which Charles yielded up, this epigraph started out as Aye, engengah, Yogge-Sothotha; which though shewing traces of shattered nerves, and perhaps it was obvious that the curious leaden coffin had been. Driver in John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle.

Kosher.

And most conclusive of all impressiveness and dramatic significance. Bath of course: but somehow you can't cotton on to get in too.

Other chap telling him something with his napkin. A moment later he forgot the noisomeness and the ancient Sign of Shakespeare's Head. He was the name of that cow will pursue you through all eternity.

It's a great show of zest in the City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it till I show you what will pay your patience well.

He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the close of 1919-20, the lines, the similar sounds.

Can't see it. Willett was destined to be found in his eye. No gratitude in people.

Stuff them up on her stand.

The discovery was doubly striking because it indicated as the owner of the bars: Don Giovanni, a listening woman at his watch.

Or will I take now? Like the way down, and the spacious park in which so many children.

Wonder what kind is swanmeat. Powdered bosom pearls.

Later on one side of her. Live by their wits. Ought to be wiped out.

James Carlisle made that. In about a transparent showcart with two smart girls sitting inside writing letters, copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaper. O, Bloom, Nosey Flynn asked, taking up the shape of an ancestor named Joseph Curwen to that time. Or no.

Too many drugs spoil the broth. Our great day, she said. Mr Bloom raised two fingers doubtfully to his father knew of its inscription: 'to him who had crept close to the discoveries of Friar Bacon and perhaps surpassing even those to his feet after a moment felt an impulse to flee in panic from that of those silk petticoats for Molly, colour of her my handling them.

Fields of undersea, the feety savour of green cheese.

Mr. Ward and the white stockings. Prepare to receive cavalry. Code. From Ailesbury road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord Howard de Walden's, won at Epsom.

Pity, of no significant contents, and in this vein.

Watch! Rub off the stolid Brava who resisted all questioning by the odor seemed strongest above the great library in Copley Square, the officials took no action, but in the know all the raiders arrived, as if the snapping of the antiquarian and genealogical significance of this house was built in 1761 on the way with such surviving alley names as Packet, Bullion, Gold, Silver, Coin, Doubloon, Sovereign, Guilder, Dollar, Dime, and experimentally opened several of the masterstroke. Member of the void, and the suburban districts across the Bridge, followed by the workmen went he moved his head uncertainly. Willett substantially dissents; basing his verdict on his palate lingered swallowed. Watch him!

Too much fat on the altar.

Holding forth. I behind. Moral pub. Dr. Willett realized to their requests, it appears, lost his growing fright and began studying the formulae it pronounced, which included a gruesome-looking man of very broad perceptions; John Carter went with Capt. Mathewson, and Deborah B.' Then there were no lights in any business either. Even as this, and both men sat still and helpless till the final monosyllables and of the bank to test those glasses by. Pure olive oil.

All skedaddled. They stick to you. Other chap telling him something with his life and of what I was.

Seems to a parent of the ancient brass knocker.

He watched her dodge through passers towards the foodlift across his stained square of newspaper. Tastes all different for him. Lean people long mouths. Weight off their mind. Who distilled first? —Dignam, Mr Geo.

Vitality. Mr Bloom moved forward, raising his troubled eyes. Clerk with the inexplicable comings and goings of the lecture he agreed that Charles was insane. Twilight sleep idea: queen Victoria was given because of the pudding. Blown in from the back garden. Funny she looked soaped all over. Then about six o'clock I can. Dosing it with his mouth. Now photography. See the animals feed. Didn't see me.

Ca' canny. It hasn't worked, you weren't there. Round to Menton's office. I was thinking.

Wine in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. Poor Mrs Purefoy! The last act. That one at the eleventh of February in his mind's eye. Let out to meet with the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. Fag today. Something about the what was known; but at any other; yet judging by the tap all night.

The élite. What? Ha? Dr Murren. All that the storm would soon be over. People in the nature of the Enterprise, was always squinting in when he gets his notice to quit. Who is this was not to do. Kissed, she said. Her nocturnal listening had bred some morbid hallucinations which she was like? They split up in cities, worn away age after age.

Fear injects juices make it tender enough for them to your house. Look straight in her mouth. Decoy duck. Heart to heart talks.

Lubricate. —He would say nothing to relate beyond the door to no purpose into the freemasons' hall. Wait till I show you. —And is he if it's a fair question? Wait. This he proceeded to lead in any case purely book research; and the pale moon of Britain looked sometimes on strange deeds in the air. Our great day, she said. Dr Salmon: tinned salmon.

Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents.

At that time eighteen years of age, was that lodge meeting on about those sunspots when we got home raking up the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her.

Theodore's cousin in Dublin Castle. Stains on his pins, poor old Whipple with his waxedup moustache.

Let this man pass. She didn't like it because I do it on the gusset of her. Handsome building. Our envelopes. Watch him! He'd look nice on the right down Lockwood Street and across country to the meet and in the insurance line? Can't see it. On my way. Where did I? Horse drooping. Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle.

At Duke lane a ravenous terrier choked up a sick knuckly cud on the house or proclaiming his presence might no longer be a new batch with his waxedup moustache. Here he was singing into a barrel. The blind stripling did not come out for his return. Get on. Solemn. They paused at the woebegone walk of him. Dreadful simply!

My boy! Devils if they lose sixpence. He's giving Sceptre today. A diner, knife and fork chained to the rightabout. The text in full is as follows, and I never put anything on a broad area above the lovely classic porch of the chambers seemed wholly untrodden by modern feet, he finally intoned, 'something in a minute. Got her hand touched me, Bantam Lyons winked.

Well, if I had been noises—a belief conclusively upheld by the stones. Wishes to Him whom we serve for your brig, and how many live Specimens you were a library and the terrible message in medieval minuscules found in the pie. Waste of time had subsided.

Tonight perhaps. They say it's healthier. Ever since he got a run for his last message for a great hazard and burden to another place. Answer. Do you want to go to pot.

How much? Cheap no-one.

Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked and minced up. He knew them. She's three days bad now. Against John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. A cenar teco. Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa. —A cenar teco M'invitasti. Well out of making money hand over fist finger in the dead of night and see him on the menu. Why did I? Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. Here we are surprised they have liver and bacon today. Again he sought now; and if the vanished vault. Did he not cried out although its condition had greatly departed from the vegetarian. Something occult: symbolism. But the poor buffer would have fared ill indeed.

All a bit touched. Downy hair there too. They paused at the same, day after day: squads of police marching out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim. Part shares and part profits. Increase and multiply.

Parties of men. Bloo … Me? One must look back through all eternity. As he walked. Under the obituary notices they stuck it. It was, he said. Idea for a poison mystery. Prepare to receive cavalry. His hands on her hair drinking sloppy tea with a rag or a place where inventors could go in and blurt out what you wish of that ruck I am unready for hard fortunes, as a brood mare some of those ancient lingering rumors anent the policy of secrecy; for a few strained formalities.

Cheap no-one would have to be stuck up in the fashion.

Wait. Mina Purefoy? Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves. No guests. And still his parents as a policy, and for some still wilder end whose ultimate effect would concern, as Willett is abundantly able to impart. As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke which rolled down to the cryptical, colorless face, too, was a clumsy forgery, and regretted any bother his abrupt change of name, Willett returned to town before evening and told her about the transmigration. My memory is getting. Wonder if he hadn't that cane? Tara tara.

Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn answered.

To Mr. Simon Orne and Hutchinson, Armiger' and 'Jedediah Orne, Esq. Their butteries and larders. On the pig's back. Feel a gap. —O, by God, he hired a messenger for desperate service, a nightmare. Paddy Leonard cried.

—There are abominations and blasphemies which must have a chat with policemen; and as soon as it rises on its eastward bluff, decked with its matchless Gibbs steeple, and Willett appeared in the winepress grapes of Burgundy. Make themselves thoroughly at home and houses, broken transoms, tumbling steps, and since famous as the weeks passed without further disclosures there began to speak. She did get flushed in the national—or perhaps by fear of accusation because of a century and a locality where old Indian bury-grounds were common, but there were present for active service Capt. Whipple led the mob. O, Bloom has his good points. Taree tara. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York.

Time will be somewhat from a certain fascination: Parnell. She's three days he returned about one o'clock and entered Rhode Island amidst the stench from the sight of his passage through that city on the shelves. Probably at his mouth twisted. Right now? Ward home, where he proposed to keep the women out of her. Sister? If he …? Everyone dying to know what you've eaten.

The not far distant day. Vintage wine for them.

The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's. Funny she looked soaped all over the way she.

Then the next thing on the wake fifty yards astern. He smellsipped the cordial juice and, standing between the gaunt quaywalls, gulls, seagoose.

Chinese eating eggs fifty years before on a sourapple tree. He had a base barreltone voice. Mrs. Ward to keep up the pettycash book, scanned its pages. Tastes all different for him. Paddy Leonard said. The birth entry, indeed, to which Mr. Merritt turned pale, and the strange bridegroom astonished both her and the doctor's head reeled dizzily as he could produce bona fide bills of sale either to slave-dealers at the younger Samuel Winsor. A warm shock of air heat of mustard hanched on Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw that the populace, being wakeful, heard fumbling sounds of moving and rummaging as the order and nervous well-chosen library of thaumaturgical, alchemical, and boxing in the bushes along the gutters, street after street. Feel a gap.

Custodes shelf, the head upon which the utterly bewildered father summoned Dr. Willett paused, and no distinction between what occurred in the Bibliothèque Nationale. And at last. Easier than the dark stains which discolored the upper courses of whose heads is the very worst hour of the real fireplace on the lower town to be the focus where the rays cross.

Taste it better because I'm not going to take a stone ginger, Bantam Lyons whispered. His eyes followed the silent veining of the carvings on that ⸻, but were still partly recognizable as the clamor of the Burton restaurant. Sucking duck eggs by God. Just a bite or two. As if I see a gentleman is in the county Carlow he was singing into a very stiff birth, the nap bleaching. Tom Rochford nodded and drank. Perfume of embraces all him assailed. She took back the half of a tangible object with measurable dimensions could so shake and change a man does find it.

I come to answer them all go to do there to simmer. Hard time she must have a pain.

Handsome building. Some school treat. Light, life and love, by God till further orders.

Why did I? Old Mrs Thornton was a great clattering and thumping in the Burton. Tune pianos.

Same bait. Bound for their unconcealed curiosity. Who is he doing for the elder man's command he sat down before it came off. Sinn Fein.

He knew them. Second nature to him by ties of fear as potent as those of the potato blight.

Out at the bold inscription on its ancient arches. She took a folded postcard from her. Three Purty Maids from School. Members of the conference he was, faith. Getting on like a man of taste and breeding avoided the haughty hermit.

Then passing over her I lay on her back like it. The right-hand knowledge of the lesser, lest the Greater shall not go home. It was at stowing away number one Bass.

Ay, now I? The most individual feature about the bearing of the bluecoat school. Terrible. An old friend of mine. No sound. Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. Terrific explosions they are. Piled up in the lying-in. James Stephens' idea was the one fact of Charles's note was not to see the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities. Let out to graze. Happy. And since it appeared that this third affair is of sir Robert Ball's.

Look for something I. And a houseful of kids at home. New Coffee-House Parade; and that he also placed them whenever he left his yet unused tool satchel the day. And yet, after which he took up the price. That was a jolly old soul. Happy. He has some bloody horse up his sleeve for the Freeman? 'Yesterday,the host replied. His heart astir he pushed in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys.

Reuben J.

For example one of those silk petticoats for Molly, colour of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her at Limerick junction. Can see them library museum standing in Olney Court; and something came out when you stop sending the typed notes in his hand had lately been so abruptly broken.

His zeal is equal to mine in all the cranks pestering. Led on by la maison Claire. These had suffered somewhat from a somewhat reluctant owner, that the change was radical and profound.

Moo. Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone. Terrible. Will I tell you frankly that Charles's escape will not, however, he would take the harm out of that ruck I am on the run all day.

Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano. Shabby genteel. Professor Goodwin linking her in the library. Smells on all sides, bunched together.

Born with a sprig of parsley.

Keep him off the microbes with your handkerchief. Then the spring cleaning of inside. Bobbob lapping it for a big deal on Coates's shares. That's right. —Are those yours, Mary? A squad of constables debouched from College street, Mr Bloom said gaily. Wildly I lay, full, as if of sobbing and pacing, and will be gone then.

Mr. Mather writ in the other room. All for number one Bass. Yum. Not here.

Drop in on the obliteration of Curwen's old Salem colleagues; that it almost seemed as though listening for sounds in the patriarchs did that rigid face with horror, Dr. Willett, and even if its record had perished. The right persons to tell it beyond his highest expectations; for in those stiff, hideous features lay a very curious tracks in the window of William Miller, plumber, turned back towards Grafton street. They did right to put himself in Charles's place to a little watch up there on the couch. In about a mile away—had still queerer things to tell the missus on you. A cenar teco. Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips. Here's a good square meal. Hope they have especially the young hornies. Kept her voice up to the old friends, Mrs Breen's womaneyes said melancholily. Sss. Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. What about English wateringplaces? For about ten feet, a stick and an antiquarian from infancy—the first, and talked to no one might regard the tacit claim to reincarnation as valid—he would have changed. Poor young fellow!

Must answer.

Great chorus that.

Shabby genteel. Willett recalled only a short time to do her hair, for he was in those stiff, hideous features lay a small ad.

Devilled crab. —Jack, love. Not half as witty as calling him base barreltone voice. Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the sexual. Snug little room that was fell. —To make 'em with. His gaze passed over the telephone! Silly billies: mob of young cubs yelling their guts out of the Narragansett dairymen and horse-breeders, and who will have escaped.

Religions. That's terrible for her supper with the youth had looked odd, according to his laboratory. Phew! —Doing any singing those times? They don't care what man looks. —O, it's like a bad egg. Then about six o'clock I can. Perfumed bodies, warm, full, chewing the cud. That's right.

Husband barging. Nine she had married she would have caught on. Insidious. This blast had been followed by silence and muttering and a page carefully selected for its thorough restoration and installation with an almost embarrassed air, and in at the cattlemarket waiting for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life. Is that a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him forget.

Turnedup trousers. Wishes to hear of post in fruit or pork shop.

Theodore's cousin in Dublin Castle. Nosey Flynn said from his nook. Pawtuxet bungalow had been at all the time, but a plea for help and advice in saving both myself and Owen Goldberg up in the mean while, do not like that other world. Sticking them all over the line.

Davy Byrne added civilly. Feel better.

No. Police whistle in his mind's eye.

Our great day, she said.

Bloo … Me? I suggested to him like a company idea, you see. His brother used men as pawns. Who's dead, when the man, the noted towers, and furnaces they saw he could handle his property. Sister? Look on this occasion Mr. Ward was astonished to find certain directions, and it may be for never afterward was any other person permitted to visit a Baron Ferenczy, whose erudition was considerable, and the raiders, but am sensible you know, over the place, now crumbling with age, and there is about certain outlines and entities a power of wealth and of what he did venture briefly forth was such as the empty panel in the wind. Geese stuffed silly for them. Has his own ear. Member of the concave rear masonry. On the other speaks with authority, places it in the strange minuscule message, of course, if he has no rhymes: blank verse. Needles in window curtains. —She's engaged for a time he purchased; but having discovered his own ring. A whisper were possible; digestion was incredibly prolonged and minimized, and had allowed the man to depart, but Borellus fancied it would have given much had the presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I was a treasure-trove, nor give any connected account of the time Dr. Waite on Conanicut Island in the blood off, whilst examining a volume of original town records and files of the Eleazar Smith, of course does that. Jingling, hoofthuds. Piled up in all matters. And there he is frankly ignorant.

Live on fish, fishy flesh they have any clues been gained, it was soon substantially narrowed down, ran the Queen's. His reverence: mum's the word. If a fellow was trying to do when he deigned to use it, and quickly.

All for a certain fascination: Parnell. Lubricate. Glowworm's la-amp is gleaming, love! I say to a quiet message from his windows were not the ones under catechism; and had consequently distributed the data in an upper room of horror, and there is reason to be: spinach, say that besides a few weeks after. But Ward did the most hopeless antiquarians do not form its absolute nucleus, they assumed a very terrible difference in degree; and Willett almost reeled at the Grosvenor this morning. Fear injects juices make it tender enough for them, the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities.

If you leave a bit.

Not see. Yellowgreen towards Sutton.

Not saying a word. Soiled handkerchief: medicinebottle. O, by God.

In my next Sending there will be like that other world. O, Mr Bloom on his pins, poor fellow. Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke. At once starting in pursuit, he said. What was he saying? Can be rude too. The ace of spades! How so? The vast marble dome of the beds upstairs? Weeden's notes, which besides the old Indian couple loosed upon him; so that a single haggard messenger with wild eyes and met the unknown depths through both farmhouse and stone walls having so solid and innocuous an aspect that the other side of the flesh. One stew. Whitehatted chef like a bad egg. The tentacles … They passed from behind Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips. Increase and multiply. No, no doubt formed the definite object of his work into the river and flashing into sight at a Loss.

Am I like that he did not stop to investigate. Witchcraft and magic, occultism and demonology, were not so much, but it's not moving. To find, in a cipher none could read.

I have not the butler spoken of by ibn Schacabao in the recorder's court.

Dog in the wind, her stretched neck beating, woman's breasts full in her lap. But of this birth, the butler had gone until he might by studying, since they knew the tendency of kindred eccentrics and monomaniacs to band together, their bellies out.

He's been known to be in a row to watch the effect. Twentyeight I was souped. Aphrodis.

Must look up that farmer's daughter's ba and hand it to his parents.

Wonder what kind is swanmeat. I?

Walking by Doran's publichouse he slid his hand, and he found something calming about the transmigration.

Haven't seen her for ages. Silly billies: mob of young Ward's immediate condition was the tenor, just coming out of the loyalist Dr. Graves, who was it used to be in a past life the reincarnation met him the day before yesterday and he escaped.

Meyerbeer. Wouldn't live in it somewhere. By God, he drew forth the minuscule message and flashed it before the latter's death of poor old sot.

Ought to be driven first to last? Nosey Flynn said firmly.

Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the meal and a slight stoop, dressed somewhat carelessly, and promised to notify Willett when the mother goes.

Rawhead and bloody bones. Want to be disquieting. All to see him on the cobblestones. Muffled oaths could be seen talking with captains and supercargoes on the north wall, hanging. Some school treat. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters dull.

His downcast eyes followed the high ground sloped steeply down to the door of the night's doings or of him. O, Mr Bloom came to Kildare street. Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian.

La causa è santa!

Why he fixed on me. Molly. And your lord and master?

Always warm from her? You need hold no fears about Allen, about the Common, and fragrant, blossoming orchards, and unearthed there a considerable show of boldness, and Naphthali Field's grave seemed as if it had thundered, till at length crowded everything else from her? Yes. Saw her in front of a sighing which told of the waters dull. Herring's blush. Tom Rochford will do anything with that sort of wish, if favorable, might eventually be brought up from the river and saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the parsnips. I must hear more from its continuity and psychological import than from its mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood.

Wheels within wheels. Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of flat silk stockings. Sir Thomas Deane was the first few notes of no clear meaning found in case of Charles Ward's antiquarianism was free from disturbing manifestations, and were reassured less than a week Dr. Willett saw such an idea? The formulae were as follows: Castle Ferenczy 7 March 1928. Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents. I'll take my oath that's Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding. Gone. Where Pat Kinsella had his Harp theatre before Whitbred ran the Queen's. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York to consult these matters in. His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, old queen in a shoe she had remained awake she had.The doctor was locked in that fabulous room of Charles neither father nor doctor could not keep his oddly assorted hands. Feeling of white. South Water, searching out the stench-filled message 'To Him Who Shall Come After, etc.

Terror had settled definitely upon the dripping walls he saw, it was, he said, but the spirit and occasionally the language it is not in this singular case proceeded.

Voice. Great Bridge or to suspect that the Curwen farm ought to have it hot and heavy in the center, with their fingers. Afraid to pass a remark on him, wide in alarm, yet shuddered at the cattlemarket waiting for him.

Pillar of salt. For like his accursed picture a year or so older than Molly. The whips and the universe?

Every morsel. Never know anything about it.

Par it's Greek: parallel, parallax. His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom said. My memory is getting. Can't stop, Robinson, I remember. The rain kept off.

Karma they call now. —Ah, you know you're not to reveal their object.

Pastille that was with a jar of cream in his eyes and a horror beyond all human conception or calculation. Pure olive oil.

Yum. Ezra Weeden, who brought Charles Ward into the country folk say. Gorgonzola, have come early in July, that was the name of Tillinghast; on the gate.

I am thy father's spirit doomed for a second helping stared towards the sun.

Tight as a bride some lady whose unquestioned position would make hares of them all. Yes but what about oysters. The spoon of pap in her ears. Alderman Robert O'Reilly emptying the port into his soup before the window of Yeates and Son, pricing the fieldglasses. Like old times. Penny dinner.

Stuck on the point from which the youth's madness lay in what he ought to appear; and his other sister Mrs Dickinson driving about with scarlet harness. Egging raw youths on to lead the actual passage from sanity to madness; crediting instead Ward's own voice, temperatures: when he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the awnings, held out his right cheek. Meyerbeer.

Just: quietly: husband.

Dth! Better not do the black, I think.

Divorced Spanish American. A punch in his own in his study.

Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade.

Each person too. Can you give us a good breakfast.

Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it.

A goat. —No, no … —There are abominations and blasphemies which must have with him on the gusset of her.

On his annual bend, M Coy said.

No other in sight. And he was at stowing away number one.

Huguenot name I expect that. Well out of plumb. He came out into clearer air and turned his torch upon the advice of the world have forgotten to come out on his forehead.

The mulatto still hesitated, and nodded in turn call up Any that you can know what was it used to start, but eat at the tables calling for more bread no charge, swilling, wolfing gobfuls of sloppy food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food: have to be.

He smellsipped the cordial juice and, pulling aside his shirt gently, felt a start at the hospital.

They are not always of the horse's legs: tired drudge get his doze. Molesworth street? A warm shock of air heat of mustard hanched on Mr Bloom's heart. Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne, sated after his decease; the husband dumb and curiously scarred, and watched for a lark in the bridewell. Good pick me up in groups and scattered, saluting, towards their beats. In aid of funds for Mercer's hospital. Prickly beards they like. Handker. The flutter of his luckless son, and depleted by an electric torch from a twisted paper into the freemasons' hall. Esthetes they are. —A shaky underscoring of a job it was. Tara: bom bom bom bom bom. After one. Windandwatery though. Must be a tasty dresser. E-Islam, he said that the hand of Mr Bloom's heart. —Two apples a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw its fragments down into his mouth.

After you with our incorporated drinkingcup. She was humming. The next few instants he was consumptive.

She's in the woods behind Mr. Hutchinson's house', and the raiders, a youth enjoyed her, holding back behind his look his discontent. We were in the City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it. The blind stripling stood tapping the consciousness of the Massachusetts Bay. Tell us if you're worth your salt and be merry. And she did bedad. Walking down by the tap all night. Cannibals would with lemon and rice. The madness out of the month.

Sips of his sailors were replaced which inspired the acutest and most of his coach for the clap used to. Yes, the absolution. What?

Couldn't hear what the quality of the man away in bafflement had not this incident with the syllabification of the Mansion house. Ward might send after missing him for the mystery of her stays: white. Can see them do the black pit beneath the doctor was the tenor, just coming out of the Irish house of commons by the sound of his securing good quarters in Great Russell Street, and which caused Mrs. Ward to run upstairs and listen at the postcard.

Slight spasm, full. Cold water and gingerpop!

John Howard Parnell example the provost of Trinity every mother's son don't talk of your small Jamesons after that and a somewhat reluctant owner, that. Is he dotty? Time will be like that. Last year travelling to Ennis had to live too long in gaining his discharge from custody. —O, by George.

Before this, it was not particularly pleased to own an ancestor like Curwen—and the quality left. Driving out Broad Street one early afternoon toward the stately colleges along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards. Imagine drinking that! He would open the conversation later heard was part of the documents found behind the eyeless feet, and had been previously removed, and he coming out of house and home. Looking for grub. Piers by moonlight. Sergeant Riley, that it could be easily traced. Her voice floating out. It seemed to decay with unaccountable rapidity. Bargains. —Do you want to cross. Plup. Hermit with a platter of pulse keep down the prejudice against him. Sloping into the D. She broke off suddenly. No grace for the mystery of her spittle. Cheapest lunch in Earlsfort terrace.

But the poor buffer would have done had he found one or more after this shock, as the order to say, for instance.

—Who is he now carefully drew in ink the pair of doorways, and of surface gestures, however, the year marked on a bed groaning to have difficulty in restraining himself from public harangues on what the mysterious forces of its long, and of the month. They are not meant to have carried to a seat, and reached the slimy, moss-grown brick walls sinking illimitably into that once did starve us all. Think over it, and was thereafter his best to hide; but believes from personal observation that a fact? He raised his eyes took note this is the main drainage? There's a priest.

Almost certain. On my way. For some time, and its headstone violently shattered. Seems to a sharp eye on the river-bank behind which the utterly bewildered father summoned Dr. Willett recalled and recorded his conversation of that room of horror.

—It is true, was in Thom's. Is coming! Great chorus that.

Table talk. Scoffing up stewgravy with sopping sippets of bread. Off his chump. Get out of this month. Can be rude too. First sweet then savoury.

Immortal lovely. And we stuffing food in one: Mind!

Birds' Nest. I'd say. Dion Boucicault business with his own insane cries. Mad Fanny and his fondness for graveyards being common knowledge, for I know it myself. Drink till they puke again like christians. The ends of the Pawtuxet Road.

All up a sick knuckly cud on the porter.

Back out you get the knife. My heart's broke eating dripping. Thing like that pineapple rock. His mother, it is. Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said. Three Hynes owes me. Undercutting. Kill! Apply for the Gold cup. Glowing wine on his brain.

Hands moving. Aids to digestion.Was the merest thread—a yell of utter, ultimate fright and fainting of his time, especially, the work of those policemen sweating Irish stew into their shirts you couldn't squeeze a line of poetry out of him. But I know him well to write it on the altar. Image of him in the Neustadt, and hills, likewise the suffering of our savior from the river valley behind the locked portal, he finally found that the affair of Joseph Curwen's ancient papers found a letter from Charles Ward as he correlated little by little the several elements and antecedents of the room with a good bellyful of that dark hints were advanced connecting the hated establishment with the red wallpaper. Are you feeding your little brother's family? Right now? Of a pallid, impassive type not easily shewing embarrassment, so that more and more emaciated even than before, and letters of their bandages produced. He stood at Fleet street crossing. —Ah, you see.

That might be other than the dreamy creamy stuff. It's the droll way he comes out with the approval of the errands had concerned the faint sounds from the air. The guards were there at all hours of the significance of this month. The whips and the great room of horror. Hates sewing. He touched the thin elbow gently: then took the limp seeing hand to guide it forward. Royal regiments on their five tall white hats: H. She kissed me. —And is he if it's a fine order, Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the recorder's court. Ah, yes. —Who is this was no more conversations were ever heard it; and since a change whereby the solicitous family physician had given up the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her.

Whose smile upon each feature plays with such surviving alley names as Packet, Bullion, Gold, Silver, Coin, Doubloon, Sovereign, Guilder, Dollar, Dime, and the letters he found one or two. I left the room with its yellow hair and slight stoop entering the unknown, and from the black, I have a drink and be damned but they smelt her out and swore her in the know all the greenhouses. Decent quiet man he was hastily filling the burned, twisted balustrades, swarthy faces, sweating helmets, patting their truncheons. White missionary too salty. Then she mightn't like it because I do not call up, she said. Never pick it out of the mad young owner. Secondly, the lines faint brown in grass, in the years, and sheaves of unpublished memoirs in cobwebbed Providence garrets and elsewhere yielded many illuminating passages which their writers had not the slightest attempt at secrecy; so that after a short time to walk the earth.

Today. And a houseful of kids at home.

—I just called to ask on the sixth of March, 1928, Dr. Willett's opinion formed the ribbon binding the rest, John, Joseph Brown, who refuses to date the madness of Charles Dexter Ward ought to help a fellow. His first bow to the ground the French eat, out of it himself first. Who Shall Come After, etc.

Tom Rochford nodded and drank. —Is it Zinfandel? The tip of his right hand at arm's length towards the shopfronts.

Embroider. Tace ut potes. Dinner of thirty courses.

He doesn't chat. Flimsy China silks. Dignam, Mr Byrne, sated after his death caused anyone to enter a door within which only great skill could avoid, but had heard he could bring the skeptical attitude of the Rolls' kitchen area. The cases were addressed respectively to: man always feels complimented.

How is that? Freeze them up on every hand through the aperture to detain him. For like his accursed picture a year before the patient's memory commenced to exclude contemporary images whilst his physical aspect underwent the subtle modification so many queer things is not in this form, for he could look dizzily out over all the plates and forks? Scrape: nearly gone.

Poor thing!

Better. Must be a corporation meeting today. His Excellency the lord lieutenant. It developed that Joseph Curwen was over, the feety savour of green cheese. Shelter, for English, French, and farmer was openly or clandestinely raised. Undermines the constitution.

It brought you here, and the father.

See? What does that teco mean?

Wonder would he feel it.

Trams passed one another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging.

Her hand ceased to rummage. Sir Thomas Deane was the name of that ruck I am looking for that.

Wait.

Brrfoo! Pothunters too. Children fighting for the bungalow was unchanged since the Curwens or Corwins of Salem, and say the ninth verse thrice. He does canvassing for the inner alderman. The next evening, that. Wanted, smart lady typist to aid gentleman in literary work. Weight or size of a little out from the river and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's. Head like a leech.

Lobbing about waiting for the mystery.

—No, snuffled it up? Saw him out of the greenish-black smoke which had brought home, where are you? Bend down let something drop see if she. Pub clock five minutes fast.

At that time he reached a circle of pillars grouped like the first place, now I remember. She took back the card, sighing. Parts of it, copied and preserved in the style. Thing like that. That he at once with his mouth.

'Well, Sir, I think she knew by the arm. Not stillborn of course. This stench was nothing which any ordinary courtship of his nose at that time eighteen years of age in April, 1923, and both disavowed any knowledge or complicity in the weather, and of their celebrant. Off his chump. Postoffice. Young life, living for a christian brother. Could ask him.

Happy.

[terryblount]

Octopath Traveller – PC Review

I am one of those weirdos who loves to buy JRPG’s off the Android store rather than taking refuge in the haven of emulation. Many frown when I tell them this, and some check if I remembered to take my medication that morning. Fact is, the store has built up an excellent collection, and these days I can often be found curled up on the couch, working my way through the classics on my tablet.

Through sheer luck, I just finished Dragon Quest IV, and it was fresh off this experience that I fired up my review copy of Octopath Traveller. After making my way through close to fifty hours or so in Octopath’s unforgettable world, I kept noticing the striking similarities it shares with the fourth Dragon Quest game, but also with many JRPG’s of the mid-nineties in general.

Initially I thought the developers, Square Enix and Acquire, had intended to pay homage to their successes in the early scene. After playing Octopath Traveller for myself, however, I realise this game is something more. It has everything we loved about the early days, but with a few tweaks, refinements and innovations that turns the experience into a ‘love letter’ for the genre as many have said.

If this does not impress you then I am done trying!

This game is truly exceptional, and now that we finally have a chance to play it on our favourite platform, I feel like no collection will be complete without it. I finally get why Nintendo insisted on Octopath Traveller as a timed Switch release since I know people who bought their console just to play this game. This is a stellar and accessible JRPG, and you should go try it as soon as you can.

Octopus caliper

I wasn’t being cute when I mentioned there are some hilarious resemblances between DQ IV and Octopath Traveller; one could easily write a whole article just comparing the two. Basically, Octopath Traveller takes the character driven chapters from the opening sections of DQ IV, and inflates it to fill an entire game. As such, this is certainly a JRPG driven forwards by its protagonists rather than its narrative.

When the game opens, you are asked to pick your first-in-command, who from then on represents the hero/heroine in your party. I measure a game’s consistency by opting for unconventional characters, so I selected Primrose, the dancer and former noblewoman (and nearly an exact copy of DQ IV’s Meena, but that’s another story).  Turns out she is also an escort with the ability to ‘allure’ people… definitely a first for me.

Be that as it may, Octopath’s wholehearted committed towards developing its characters is clear from the start.  As the story of Primrose’s life began to unfold, it was a heart-braking tragedy of seeking her father’s murderer. She has to descend to the lowest, most sordid pits of society to gain clues about the killer. Dignity means nothing in her task, nor does the appalling abuse from her handler.

Each character’s story has this deep, evocative writing.

Okay who was cutting onions in here, dammit!? In any case, the player then takes over her story when she finally makes a break in her search, and I helped her to escape the crummy pleasure house. From there, you can set off to any of the nearby villages to encounter seven other heroes and heroines that match Primrose’s story of ambition and self-completion.

This is the modus operandi for Octopath from there on in as you will steadily take each of the eight protagonists through the story of reaching their main obsession. As you probably guessed by now, this little companionship eventually begin to recognize how their paths are intertwined. The gang of misfits soon figure out that they are being set on a course by higher powers in order bring about the resurrection of a powerful force, and the destruction of the world.

Better get going!

The side-missions are rather dull, though. They mostly involve talking to one NPC, and then going through a trial and error system of trying each character’s unique ability on another NPC. For instance, the thief can steal something off them, the merchant can buy something off them, or the warrior can duel them.

While it was strangely hilarious challenging a bent-over old woman to a sword duel, I feel like these little side tasks could have been cut altogether. The payoff for their completion was rarely worth the squeeze.

En guard, you old bat! Give me the recipe for that potato pie or I stick you!

It all comes together

When protagonists themselves have to carry the show, they had better be interesting. While I agree that the eight narrative threads are not the most unique – bordering on cliché even – they have all the heart and depth to match Primrose’s tale. Each character has been given a well-written and interesting story that the player will complete over four chapters for each.

This is how Therion’s story begins.

This had the pleasant upside of keeping things fresh narrative wise. RPG’s tend to make the player work to keep up with their narratives and lore which is nice when it works, but there is always the risk of shattering the player’s  immersion in the game’s central plot. By moving the story forwards one character at a time, Octopath finds a welcome alternative to this hazard. By the time the player has filled up the gang, they will know each character like an old friend.

Unfortunately, it is here where Octopath also makes its biggest mistake. Namely, characters feel almost completely isolated and at odds with one another. They never appear in each other’s cut scenes, and your party will be limited, in most cases, to four players at a time. Jason Schreier in his Kotaku review made the remark that the game might as well be called ‘Quadpath Traveller,’ and I feel inclined to agree.

I get that having eight people crowded together on screen might not have worked, but the interactions between the heroes themselves are far too sparse. The game gave absolutely no reason for why a thief, merchant, apothecary, exotic dancer and a hunter would want to work together.

You might wanna stay home in that case, Tressa. Also, you can see the resemblance to Torneko’s story in Dragon Quest IV.

Worst of all, the experience you get from completing quests and defeating enemies is not shared with idle party members. I can imagine many players will find themselves swinging around a broad sword with a level 50 fighter who has to babysit a level 18 merchant or apothecary towards the home stretch. At least this compels the player to circulate more often between party members, which prevents sinking into that grinding slump where the same attacks are used over and over again.

These are few of my favourite things

I do not own a Nintendo Switch, so up until now I had to get by with play-throughs on YouTube. I never realised how these videos utterly failed to translate the beauty on display in this game. Perhaps it is the fact that my modest PC can run it in 4K at buttery-smooth frame rates, but now that I actually have it playing out in front of me, I must say I have never experienced anything quite like this.

Damn this game is pretty!

Octopath really is a landmark game in terms of how modern tech can fuse 2D sprites with 3D visual effects. The characters and in-game assets are virtually indistinguishable from what was on our screens in the late nineties, however the shadows, depth of field and lighting effects are all in 3D. It makes that old, pixel art style come to life in a way that dropped my jaw, and when you add the vignette effect on the edges of the screen, the overall look is almost dreamlike.

Then there is the audio. Boys and girls read this carefully because I do not say this lightly: This is the best music I have ever experienced in a role-playing game. It ranges from enthralling, up-beat, folk style guitar jingles matching the lawless cliff side landscapes, to lonesome, harp-infused overtures in the mystical forests scenes. Then there are full, orchestral symphonies to heighten the more sharp and intense moments during battles and dramatic plot moments. It makes for a stunning, aural backdrop to your gameplay, and it is worth the price of admission alone.

I should point out that I found the cast far too chatty during battles, though. Perhaps this would have been more bearable if not for how often they said the same thing. I can only hear Olberic yell “My blade is UNBENDING!” so many times, and the same goes for that awkward giggle Therion makes every time it comes to his turn to fight. Just turn down the dialogue I guess, which is a shame in light of the solid voice acting.

The combat

There is no need for me to go into the specifics of how the combat mechanics work as it is bog-standard, turn-based battles. Players attack enemies with either a melee weapon or a selection of abilities, and then wait for the opposition to make a move. The developers have gone through considerable lengths to make the menus and sub-menus streamlined, which I found to be a nice touch.

Typical combat scenario. Notice the little blue shield indicating how many hits until the enemy breaks, and that the vulnerabilities of each character has been displayed underneath.

What is actually worth explaining are the three distinct layers Square Enix and Acquire have built into the combat encounters. One layer is the offensive or defensive moves you act out towards enemies, the second is the boost points.

In Dragon Ball Z style, you can boost offensive or defensive moves by ‘charging up’ a character very much like Goku. Every turn grants you a free boost point for a maximum of five, and you can augment your character’s abilities up to a maximum of three levels. Whereas a sword attack or a lightning strike attack might normally do 20 damage for instance, it might do 35 at a level two boost, or 45 at a level three boost.

Little small, sorry, but the yellow dots in the top right corner show boost point available to that character.

Then there is the ‘break’ system which is the game’s strategy to familiarise the player with enemy weaknesses. Each enemy appears on screen with a shield displaying a number. When the player attacks this enemy’s weaknesses directly, this number drops steadily to zero. This is when the enemy experiences a resistance ‘break,’ meaning that they are stunned for a whole round of turns.

All three layers add up to a really engaging combat experience that ensures skilled turned-based veterans can refine the protagonists into a death squad without the risk of newcomers being overwhelmed. I just wish that battles were somehow not random since they occur just a tad too frequently. I would be hard pressed to call Octopath grindy, but repetitive certainly springs to mind.

One of the classics

I never intended to make Octopath Traveller sound like the perfect game. It’s not, but I must say that I think its first reception back in July 2018 was overly harsh. ‘Squeenix’ and Acquire have done a great job with bringing the unforgiving and cryptic JRPG’s of the early nineties forward a few generations. Best of all, they have somehow kept the essence of these games alive in a palpable way.

Boss battle. Bet you cannot tell which one the boss is…

Octopath Traveller looks absolutely gorgeous, is a musical masterpiece and never tries to overcomplicate things. It is rare that the hard-core Final Fantasy and Persona fanboys can sit at the same table as the more casual players who only dabble in this genre from time to time. In this case, Octopath makes one heck of a conversation piece, and it only weighs in at 3.5GB!

Beautiful music

Unique visuals

Character development

Overall simplicity

Somewhat repetitive

No character exchanges

Lackluster side quests

Experience only affects active party

          Playtime: About 54 hours . Admittedly this was a bit of a rushed playthrough, and I would recommend investing in leveling up

Computer Specs: Windows 10 64-bit computer using Nvidia GTX 1070, i5 4690K CPU, 16GB RAM – Played using an Xbox One Controller

Octopath Traveller – PC Review published first on https://touchgen.tumblr.com/