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florrickandassociates · 3 years ago

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TGF Thoughts: 5x01- Previously on...

Welcome back!! I’m so excited to be writing one of these again. I think this hiatus has been the longest I’ve gone without new Diane Lockhart content in ten years, and it sure feels like it. A lot of important stuff has happened in the time since TGF season four ended (not concluded—ended). Most notably, CBS All Access became Paramount+ and suddenly started offering a lot of content I care about! I kid. 2020 was quite an eventful year, so I was curious how television’s most topical show was going to take it on. TGF is always forward-looking, but too much happened in 2020 to be ignored. And while I didn’t think TGF would have much to say about the pandemic, it seemed impossible to imagine a season five that pretended it never happened. Going into this premiere, I was expecting that they’d either skip COVID entirely or include very few references, but after seeing this episode, I feel like the writers took the only approach that made sense. And that is why they are the writers, and I'm just some girl on the internet who writes recaps.

Anyway, before I dive into the episode, I should also note that my pandemic boredom spurred me to actually pay $30 to watch this episode early as part of the virtual ATX Festival. Yes, I paid $30 on top of the money I spend every month on Paramount+ for this show. But I write tens of thousands of words about each TGF episode—are my priorities really that surprising? I note this not to brag or even to poke fun at myself, but because watching the episode before I knew a single thing about it (not even the title!) completely changed my viewing experience. I’ve never had an experience like this with TGW or TGF. I’m one to search for critics tweeting cryptically about screeners and refresh sites looking for background extras (haven’t done this in the TGF era, though) and read every single piece of press I can find. For any big episode, I usually know the outline of what to expect going in (I even knew about Will before the episode aired in the US!). Not this one! So, I got to be surprised, and I had to—gasp—formulate my own opinions before I knew what anyone else thought! It was really pleasant, actually. I think the structure of the episode worked extremely well for me because it caught me by surprise... and also because I’m the kind of person who somehow managed to write a college paper about Previously On sequences.

I see Tumblr has made it so that “keep reading” expands the post in your dash instead of opening a new tab. I absolutely hate this. Here is a link to the post you can click instead of the keep reading button!

The ATX stream started mid-sentence, meaning I missed the “Previously On... 2020...” title card and skipped right to Adrian saying “I’m retiring.” It was pretty easy to pick up on the device (the directness of the scenes at the start, their cadence, and their placement in the episode made it clear this was meant to mimic a Previously) but the second title card hit way harder because... well, I had no idea if this was meant to be 2020 or some moment outside of real time until a bit later in the episode.

Man, before I get any farther into this, two things that I don’t know where else to put. First, this episode had to cover so much ground. They had to write out both Adrian and Lucca—more on that later--, figure out how to deal with all of 2020, figure out how to either wrap up or continue all the truncated season 4 plotlines, and set the stage for a new season... in 50 minutes.

Second, just wanna shout out the Kings’ other Paramout+ show, Evil, which you should absolutely be watching even if you hate horror. Evil is a Kings show, so it is unsurprisingly topical (sometimes evil takes the form of racism or misogyny or Scott Rudin) and at times very, very funny. I would be recapping it if Paramount+ weren’t attacking me personally by airing it at the same time as TGF. Ever hear of too much of a good thing, people?! (On that note, I am VERY upset with myself for not having made a Good vs Evil joke about the Good shows and Evil. I didn’t even think about it until Robert King made the joke on Twitter, and it was right fucking there. How did I fail so miserably?!)

So STR Laurie, who wants a 20% downsizing, is still a thing. Noted.

This scene with Landau is the only one in this previously that is actually old footage, right?

Unexpected Margo Martindale! Yay! (Ruth Eastman is a character who is so much more effective on Fight than she was on Wife and I’m quite glad they’ve had her appear on Fight several times. It kind of redeems season seven. Kind of.)

I don’t think the writers intentionally chose for Adrian’s book deal to be with Simon & Schuster because it is the most politically fraught publisher (the number of stories about controversial memoirs they’ve picked up in 2021 alone...) but I kind of like that Adrian’s Road Not Taken involves S&S. My guess is they chose S&S because it is owned by ViacomCBS.

“Years ago, I wanted to create a law firm run entirely by women, but it never worked out. So, why not now?” Diane says to Liz. One of the advantages of having twelve (!!!) seasons of Diane Lockhart is that we’ve seen what she’s talking about. And we’ve seen her put this idea forward multiple times, too. I have my reservations about Diane’s brand of feminism, and I’ll say more about how fraught a Diane/Liz firm would be as the show explores the potential issues there, but on the surface I’m kind of excited about the prospect of a Diane/Liz led firm. Diane has wanted this for ages, Liz is a good partner, and this actually makes sense (unlike the nonsensical Diane/Alicia alliance of late season seven, where the only rationale was “well, Alicia needs to betray Diane in the finale, but they’re not on good terms. So maybe we make them business partners so then the betrayal stings more?”). Plus I fully love that Diane would end up running a firm with Alicia’s law school rival.

(Has TGF mentioned that Liz and Alicia were law school rivals? No. Am I still clinging on to that as a large part of Liz’s character? ABSOLUTELY.)

Julius is on trial for Memo 618 reasons; Diane is defending him. So this is still happening. (There’s more old footage here.)

Do they put these references to one/two party consent in these episodes as a wink at the fans? It has to be intentional. (Please do not ask me what the actual law is on this, this show has thoroughly confused me.)

I knew Cush was filming stuff for TGF, but I didn’t know it was for the premiere. She was just posting about it a few weeks ago, so either they shot a lot of it right before air or she posted a while after filming. Anyway, yay Lucca!

Bianca’s still around. And, TGF gets to shoot New York for New York, since Bianca is there. I do wish TGF could do more location shoots; there’s something about seeing an actual skyline that feels more real.

Bianca wants Lucca, who has never been outside of the country (except to St. Lucia, as Bianca reminds her) to go to London and buy her a resort. It’s supposed to be a three week stay and Bianca’s already arranged childcare. Speaking of children, because of COVID and filming constraints, that’s Cush’s real kid in this scene! You can’t really see him, but I recognized his curly hair from Cush’s Instagram, and the Kings confirmed in an interview.

Adrian wants to write a book about police brutality cases he’s worked on. Ruth very much does not want him to write that book. She wants him to write a book without substance about how white people and black people can work together. He, understandably, has no interest in writing this book. (Also, you can see in the background that Ruth doesn’t think Biden’s odds of winning the Democratic primary are good—there is a big down arrow next to his picture, which definitely dates this scene.)

Oh, David Lee is in this episode. He acts like an asshole towards Marissa when she’s trying to help him.

Marissa, not happy with the lack of respect, calls Lucca for advice “for a friend.” Lucca mentions she’s in London and Marissa does not believe her and keeps going on and on about her frustrations and her new desire to become a lawyer—quickly.

Marissa wanting to become a lawyer because she “hates being talked down to” is not a plot I would’ve expected but it’s also one that makes a lot of sense. I think Marissa’s used to being respected and praised even when she’s doing things that aren’t glamorous, so I see how she’d get very restless when she’s no longer outperforming expectations and is instead taken for granted.

Bells toll in the background on Lucca’s side and Marissa asks where she is. Lucca again notes she’s in London and Marissa still doesn’t believe her.

I’m going to miss Lucca so much, especially since we’ll also be losing a lot of the Millennial Friendship scenes with her. Cush is fantastic (even if she never really got enough to do here) and she plays so well off of the rest of the cast. I even sometimes liked the writing for Maia (who?) when she had scenes with Lucca, Lucca is that good.

Jay wakes up sweating and unable to breathe, so he deliriously calls his father-figure Adrian. This whole scene is shot like something out of Evil and (I’m getting ahead of myself here) this plot is the only thing about this episode I felt was a misstep.

“I think you’re my father,” Jay says to Adrian. Heh, I didn’t catch this line the first time around (maybe subliminally I did, since I just called Adrian his father figure lol) but I love that it is included here. Adrian and Jay’s relationship definitely deserves a goodbye.

Adrian calls an ambulance and also gets to Jay before the ambulance somehow. Adrian notes that Jay might have “this thing from China” and... we’re doing the pandemic, y’all. (Minor nitpick: on March 13th, 2020, when this scene is dated, COVID was not “this thing from China”-- we were all aware of it. March 11th was the day Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson announced they’d tested positive and the NBA shut down and travel was restricted and every single brand that had my email sent me a message about their plans and measures. March 12th was the last time I was in my office, and we’d been getting emails telling us to wash our hands and prepare to work remotely for weeks. I went to San Francisco in mid-late February and distinctly remember deciding to leave a burrito unattended on a table while I washed my hands because I was paranoid about COVID... and then I remember making a specific trip to Walgreens to buy hand sanitizer so that didn’t happen again. My point is, Adrian lives in the same world I do. On March 13th 2020, he would not be treating COVID like it was some new thing he’d vaguely heard of.)

(I am going to nitpick this timeline, but please know that I’m only doing it because I can, not because I think it’s necessarily a bad choice. Lines like this do feel a little forced, but I see the reason for introducing COVID as something new rather than going for the line that’s exactly historically accurate. I also am pretty sure there are references to dates in March/April in s4 of TGF that are now going to be contradicted by this episode, but I truly do not care. The writers get a pass on this one.)

We skip slightly back in time to the beginning of March after the MARCH 13TH title card, or maybe this is supposed to be after March 13th and my own memories are preventing me from believing these face-to-face interactions were happening. Who knows.

Michael Bloomberg is... here, again, I guess? He asks Diane to assist with a Supreme Court case about gun control. I guess it does add some weight to the plot and make the stakes feel higher.

Oh hey, this case is the 7x17 case!!!! Love that continuity.

Diane and Adrian are both at the office late, working, and there is an unnecessary split screen that feels even more unnecessary when you consider that the editing alone was enough to create the parallel.

Diane and Adrian have a nice convo (which I’ll really miss, their dynamic is great and this really feels like a successful partnership) as they wait for the elevator. When the elevator dings, they nearly tumble down into nothingness because... the elevator never came. Apparently this is a reference to an law old show I’ve never seen that killed off a character this way, and it’s meant to be a wink at how they are not going to kill off Adrian.

I do not know why I remember this, but I do: after they killed off Will, a critic (Noel Murray; I just googled to confirm my memory) who didn’t want to spoil things tweeted, “Exactly 23 years and 2 days ago, Rosalind Shays fell down an elevator shaft.” Please tell me why I remember this reference that I didn’t even understand well enough to have tracked down the original tweet in under a minute. (https://twitter.com/NoelMu/status/447942456827326464)

Back on this show, Diane and Adrian share a drink and talk about their wishes. Diane wants to argue in front of the Supreme Court, and Adrian encourages her to speak up. His own near-death experience motivates him to trash the book Ruth has him writing, and Diane trashes the (bad) legal strategy someone else prepared for the Supreme Court.

DIANE IS WEARING JEANS!!!!!! Tbh, I think my favorite part of this episode is how many slice-of-life scenes and settings we get. These are always my favorite moments. I love the satirical and political stuff too, but the character moments are what get me invested enough to write these. (Yes, Diane in jeans constitutes a character moment.)

Diane tells Bloomberg she wants to be involved and advocates for herself. Kurt gets a call on their landline (hahaha) from Adrian.

God, I love Diane and Kurt. Not only is their banter fun, you can just see a different, more relaxed side of Diane in these scenes. Diane tells Kurt she has good news for herself, but bad news for him since she’s arguing for gun control. She asks him to help her prep for court, too.

So this is before Jay is rushed to the hospital, because now we are back at the hospital with Julius, Diane, and Marissa. I do not believe any of these people would be setting foot in a hospital like it’s any other day on March 13th, 2020. But I'm trying not to nitpick.

I get why they chose to give Jay a rather severe case of COVID. I just don’t get literally anything else that follows from the initial shock of Jay having COVID.

I see why the writers chose March 20th (the actual Illinois stay at home order) as the next date for this timeline. I still do not believe that people were in this particular office on that date.

You know what else I don’t believe? That RBL just shut down for two weeks and was like, no work is being done. Did law firms really do this? I can believe it if it’s an excuse to cost-cut, and I know there were massive layoffs, but this seems... really weird???

Why are they setting up a teleconferencing infrastructure (didn’t they have one at LG? In season five?) if they are not planning to do work?

Lol Diane explains what Zoom is, very slowly. She asks everyone to “download a program called Zoom.com” which is one of the first Zoom jokes I’ve chuckled at in a while.

Marissa is not happy to hear that there’s no work for her in a work-remote world (this I believe 100%), so she calls Lucca again with more questions about law school.

Love these NYC and London location shots. Wish they could do that for Chicago.

Lucca asks Bianca to help get Marissa into a law school, fast, and Bianca tells Lucca to use her name... then offers her a job.

Marissa is at the office, alone, boxing up her things, when one of the office phones rings with some dude offering her a spot in a law school class. I guess we are really all-in on this! (Why would Lucca have given a firm phone number not specific to Marissa, though?)

Adrian and his corrupt girlfriend decide to shelter in place together. I still do not understand why he is okay with her being corrupt. I also don’t really understand why they’re going from talking about sheltering-in-place to George Floyd. How did we just skip from late March to late May? Are Adrian and corrupt gf having a conversation about sheltering-in-place two months into sheltering in place?

Okay, I am not doing so good at this no-nitpicking thing. Again, I understand why they need to merge several scenes into one to keep things moving. And I guess they could just be getting around to this conversation.

I’m going to nitpick again, I can’t help myself. How did we just go from a scene of Adrian specifically talking about sheltering in place to a scene of Adrian bursting into a bustling and maskless DNC headquarters room? How!? The only masks in this scene are on TV!! There are like ten people in this scene!

Anyway, more importantly, Adrian tells Ruth off and screams at her that she needs to listen to him instead of acting like she knows the way forward. He is completely right.

Why is travel from London closing down in May 2020? Is it because this scene is supposed to be at a different place in the episode? Liz is asking Lucca to come back home from her three week stay in London (which has now lasted three months but travel is just now closing down), and Lucca’s hesitant to come home.

This is all happening via Zoom, btw. Lucca’s in her hotel, Diane and Adrian are at their respective homes, and Liz is in the office. All of this feels right. There is a chat off to the side of the screen where you can see Adrian and the others discussing how to unmute on Zoom. Very real. Though probably not very real in late May 2020. Feels more like April. I am convinced this scene got spliced in later to help the episode flow because everything in this scene (except the TV footage that definitely was added later) feels like it should be happening in the March section.

Lucca mentions that Bianca offered her a job, and at this point we as viewers know how things are going to go—Lucca's going to end up taking it. Liz types in the Zoom chat that they don’t want to lose Lucca. When Lucca tells them how much Bianca’s offering ($500k/year, go Lucca!), Diane types “Shit.” into the chat. “Shit’s right,” Liz replies. “Yes... What should our counter be?” Diane replies. Lucca is kind enough to point out the messages are not private (again, this feels like March not May) but I think knowing that their reaction to topping $500k is “shit” tells her all she needs to know.

Diane’s background still says that RBL is a division of STR Laurie. Weird how little we are hearing about the overlords except the 20% staff cut.

Liz and Adrian chat and decide the only way to keep Lucca is to make her a partner. Which, yeah, if you’d just made her a partner years ago when you told her she was in the running for partner and then offered it to fucking MAIA, maybe she wouldn’t be considering Bianca’s offer. Lucca is definitely one of RBL’s stars, and I don’t think she’s wrong to feel like they don’t value her enough. They treat her well enough to be upset about losing her, but not well enough to have already made her partner and not well enough to actually give her authority (even though she runs a whole department). I’d be pretty unhappy too. It kind of feels sometimes like they take her for granted, and I don’t know that Lucca is one to feel like she owes a company anything. She’s more of an “I’m out for myself” type.

Madeline and the other partner we’ve seen a few times who isn’t Liz/Diane/Adrian, walk into the office (wearing masks! Which they take off as soon as they enter a room with Liz! Without asking her if she is okay with this! TV logic!) and ask who is replacing Adrian. They think this is a good time to reevaluate having a white name partner of an African American firm, and they are spot on. Liz tries to deflect, noting that Diane is already a name partner and was before Liz even joined, but Madeline and other partner (whose name I really wish they would say so I can stop calling him “other partner”) won’t let up. Their position is that Diane shouldn’t have been made a name partner then—all she did was bring in ChumHum, an account that quickly left the firm. Good point.

“What is this firm if it’s not African American? It’s just another midsized all-service Midwestern law firm, one of 50,” Madeline argues. The other partner says Liz needs to remove Diane and promote two African Americans to name partner. Liz laughs and asks if they mean themselves. Madeline does not—she's concerned about the number of black associates they’re letting go. Liz heads out, but this conversation is very much ongoing.

And I think it’s a very interesting dilemma! There’s a lot of mileage the writers can get out of this, because I don’t think there’s a right answer or a wrong one. It’s all about what Liz decides she wants the future of the firm to be. If Liz chooses Diane, she might be choosing something that works for her personally or that she thinks is a safer financial bet—but she’ll be choosing to work at a firm that can no longer be thought of as a black firm, and she’ll be choosing to move away from her father’s vision for the firm. And since the plot hinges on what Liz will decide rather than what’s objectively the right path forward, there’s a lot of interesting tension there I can’t wait to see.

(My favorite thing about Adrian leaving is that Liz will likely get more to do, especially when it comes to managing the firm. Adrian tends to speak up first, but Liz is more than capable of managing without him and I’m so excited to see what she does when her ex-husband isn’t constantly talking over her.)

Marissa and Lucca video chat with Jay. He’s still in the hospital. One thing that bugs me about how this episode handles COVID is that I never really get the sense that any of the characters are particularly afraid of the virus. Maybe none of them were. But you’d think you’d see a little of that fear, the weird dance of trying to assess others’ comfort levels with masking, etc., in an ep specifically about living through this time. ESPECIALLY since someone they all know and are close to has been hospitalized for MONTHS with this thing! It’s just so weird to go from a scene where people wear masks until they come in contact with other people (when masks matter the most) to a scene of someone in the hospital with COVID.

And now Jay’s weird hallucinations start as his battery dies on the video chat. I really, truly, hated these hallucinations. I was ready to be done with these from the second they started. They’re weirdly shot, they go on for too long, and they feel like the clunkiest parts of Mind’s Eye when Alicia starts having a debate in her mind about atheism mixed with the (far superior) hospital episode of Evil.

I don’t have much to say about these hallucinations except that I hated them a lot. When there’s the reveal that Jay is hallucinating a commerical, I almost came around on the hallucinations because that’s kind of funny and inspired. And then several more hallucinations popped up and they had a round table and Jesus got added to the mix and I was like, nope, this is bad in a very uninteresting way. I reject this.

I feel like the Kings didn’t have much to say about COVID, the actual virus. This episode is definitely more about what the characters’ lives were like during COVID and not the pandemic itself. I think they likely got a lot of their COVID commentary out of their system with their zombie COVID show The Bite (I have not seen The Bite due to it airing on Spectrum On Demand, which I have no way of accessing. Like, I would have to move and then decide to pay for cable in order to watch it.) I also suspect a lot of their commentary on COVID isn’t going to be specific to the virus and is instead going to be about things like mask-wearing and vaccinations becoming political. And, really, that’s just a new variation on talking about polarization... and they’ve been talking about polarization for years.

In fact, they even wrote a whole series about an outbreak of a (space-bug-spread) virus that caused political polarization before Trump was even elected. BrainDead is basically commentary on the pandemic before the pandemic even happened. Soooooo I get why they are more interested in recapping 2020 than in doing a Very Special Episode about themes they’ve been talking about for years. (I still think they would’ve benefitted from at least one character being afraid of getting sick or getting their family sick.)

There is likely some interesting content in these Jay hallucinations. I hate them so much I cannot find it. You know when you’re just on a completely different wavelength than the writers? This is an example of that.

Also I’m not a fan of the shadowy directing. I think this is meant to look cooler than it does.

Have I mentioned yet that I absolutely love the “Previously On” device for this episode? It’s such a fun, propulsive way to get through the slog of 2020. Scenes can be short and to the point, and each scene has to do a lot of lifting to fill in the gaps. I think that leads to scenes that are better constructed and telling on lots of levels—where are people when they’re quarantined? Who’s wearing casual clothes and when? What about this scene defines this character’s life at that moment in time?

Bizarrely, even though this episode is pretty much all plot (this happens! Then that!), I actually found this to be one of the most character-driven episodes TGF has ever done. There’s a lot of story, but most of that story is about how the characters reacted to 2020 rather than overarching plots that will weigh on the rest of the season. This episode covers a lot of ground, but it does it with character moments that resonate.

Now it’s July and Diane’s prepping to argue in front of the Supreme Court. Kurt’s helping her witness prep and it gets a little personal... and that ends up turning Diane on. Good to see McHart hasn’t lost its spark. (Remember how Kurt cheated on Diane in season 7 of Wife? No, me neither, because that never happened.)

Corrupt judge is back. Adrian playfully tries to distract her from work. Then he takes a video call from Liz, who updates him on the conversation she had with John (so that’s his name) and Madeline. I guess that part of May was close to July? Anyway, Adrian isn’t surprised to hear that people are upset at the prospect of Diane being one of two name partners.

Liz is at the office in workout clothes and I love it!

They’re losing 15 black associates (and Adrian and Lucca) and 4 white ones, Liz says. This sounds like a very big problem. (I’d be curious to know what that is as a percentage of the firm and how the racial composition shifts.)

Liz knows it’s not exactly up to her if Diane stays on as name partner (the other partners get a vote, but I think Liz knows she has a lot of sway here). She’s also wondering if Biden could win, and if so, would it be to the firm’s advantage to be black-owned? Interesting.

“Well. If you’re thinking it, then Diane’s thinking it, too,” Adrian says. He’s right. “White guilt. It runs verrrrry deep on that one, huh?” Ha. He is right about that, too. I actually can’t decide which of these interpretations is correct, because it could be either even though they seem contradictory. (1) Is Adrian saying it with a hint of mockery because he knows Diane will fight for her partnership even as she would say she’s a huge supporter of black businesses? (2) Is he saying it because he knows Diane would have enough white guilt to realize what her presence as a partner means and think through the implications? I think it is, somehow, a combination. I’m interested in this line because this whole dilemma (from Diane’s POV) is something that’s very familiar. Diane’s always been an idealist who will betray her ideals for personal gain. That sounds like an attack, but I mean that as neutrally as I possibly can. There are so many examples of this that this is kind of just a character trait of hers at this point. Usually those ideals are about feminism, but this situation seems closely related.

Adrian overhears Corrupt GF talking about Julius, Diane, and Memo 618. You would think she would wait to have this conversation until there is no chance of Adrian overhearing, because if Adrian overhears, he might...

... do exactly what he proceeds to do and hop into a car with Diane to give her a heads up. (I think I’m just going to have to accept that the mask usage rule on this episode is “we use masks to show that the characters would wear them, but we don’t want to have scenes where characters are fully masked because that’s annoying.” If that’s not the rule, then why else would Adrian be masked outside... and then take off his mask as soon as he gets into a confined indoor space with Diane?

Baranski looks ESPECIALLY like Taylor Swift in this scene.

Adrian tells Diane what he knows. He dug deeper after overhearing Charlotte, so he has even more info. “If you tell me, I will use it,” Diane warns. Adrian knows that, so he takes a moment to decide. And he decides that he cares more about Diane and Julius than about his relationship with a corrupt judge.

Diane and Julius are masked in court. Visitor and the judge are not. They use masking in a clever way in this scene: Diane uses being masked to her advantage because it means no one can possibly read her lips, so she can use the info Adrian fed her against Charlotte without any fear of spies. Charlotte, who is unmasked, guards her lips with a folder, as the Visitor watches interestedly.

Diane convinces Charlotte to recuse herself. Charlotte says she’s making a mistake; Diane does not care.

The new judge is, unfortunately, the idiot who doesn’t know anything about the law. Uh oh.

Charlotte decides she’s done sheltering in place with Adrian. He tries to talk through the conflict, but Charlotte says “You made your choice, Adrian. Julius Cain over me.”

“The choice was about right and wrong, Charlotte,” Adrian tries to explain. I mean, yeah, but if you’re dating a judge who has admitted she’s totally corrupt, didn’t right and wrong go out the window a while ago?

Adrian seems to think the other people involved in the events are bad and Charlotte is good. I am not convinced. I don’t think she’s the big bad, but I don’t think she’s good.

Charlotte points out that he invaded her privacy. She is right about that. “You said the choice was between right and wrong. Turning over my emails was the choice,” she said. I get her POV. But also, she is corrupt.

I do not like the way the part of the scene where Adrian physically restrains Charlotte to keep her from leaving is shot. I don’t think this is an abusive scene but I think it should’ve been shot from a little farther back so we could see it’s more like Adrian reaching out in desperation than trying to choke Charlotte. Because it very much looks like he is trying to choke Charlotte.

He tells Charlotte he loves her. She says it’s too late and leaves. “Maybe you won’t be with me. But you keep down this path... you’ll be done, I’m telling you, you’ll be done.”

I think something that I’ve been missing in these interactions is that I didn’t quite realize until this scene that the Adrian/Charlotte dynamic is more interesting than Adrian liking a corrupt judge. I think he truly believes Charlotte is a good person who got caught up in some bad stuff, and that she can bounce back from it. I’ve always seen Charlotte as someone who is corrupt for herself and then ended up going along with the corruption of others, too, so I’ve dismissed her and the relationship. This is the first scene that has felt real to me, and the first scene where she’s felt like more than a caricature. Kind of sad it’s the last she’ll get with Adrian—now I’m actually starting to find her interesting. Notice how in these last few sentences I’ve used her name instead of “Corrupt GF”!

Charlotte says she loved Adrian too, but that’s not enough. Awww.

He can’t really be surprised though, can he?

Now it is August and we get to see Diane and Liz react to the announcement of Kamala Harris as Biden’s VP pick, and I would like to thank the writers for giving me the opportunity to see Diane and Liz react to this. It’s kind of fan-service, but it’s also a nice tie-in to the girl-power theme of the Diane/Liz alliance.

Diane and Liz realize that Adrian’s probably not a good candidate for 2024 if the DNC only wants one black candidate and Harris is the clear front-runner. Liz suggests keeping him on as partner instead, in a way that very much implies this would be her ideal solution. Diane, being Diane, says she was liking the idea of an all-female firm. Liz hesitantly says she was too, and Diane senses the hesitation.

“Let’s look again at which associates to fire. I’m worried we’re losing too many African Americans,” Diane switches the subject. How have they still not made this decision? If any employees know downsizing is coming, and they’ve had months to act on it, assuming there are jobs elsewhere, people would’ve been jumping ship by now.

But that’s not the point of this scene. The point of this scene is that Liz corrects Diane: “Black. You can just say Black people.” Very nice moment underlining the tension. Diane means well, but she’s still acting like a white lady who doesn’t know how to act around black people... and she wants to (and, I guess, already does) run a black firm. Major yikes.

Marissa and Lucca are talking again. Marissa does not want to be in law school—she just wants to be a lawyer. Lucca won’t accept Marissa’s refusal to memorize meaningless rules: “Marissa. I know that you know how to play the game, but you have to pass the bar to get into a position to play the game.” Why does this line make me love Lucca? This line isn’t even anything amazing. It’s just a line that cuts through the bullshit and makes a good point.

Marissa keeps going, insulting all of her peers and teachers, and Lucca figures out how to cut through that, too: she tells Marissa that she’d hire her as a lawyer if she killed someone, but only if Marissa passes the bar. Marissa is instantly intrigued.

“Why are you leaving here? I’ll miss you,” Marissa says.

“Because they won’t pay me what I deserve,” Lucca says in a matter-of-fact tone. “Anyway, I thought they fired you.”

“But they didn’t mean it. It’s like the smoothie place—they kept trying to fire me and I just kept showing up,” Marissa replies. That checks out. (Love the callback!)

Lucca tries to get Marissa to come over to England. Marissa shuts that down as Lucca gets a news alert—and it’s not good news.

Our next date is September 18th, 2020 and I will get my nitpicks out of the way up front! I don’t really know why it is daytime for Lucca when she reads the news, considering it was already the evening in the States when the RBG news broke. And, also, it was Rosh Hashanah, so Marissa probably would not have been sitting in her bedroom studying... she most likely would’ve been with family or friends. OK I’M DONE. FOR NOW.

Diane is getting ready for her arguments in front of the Supreme Court. It’s almost time! She’s in casual clothes but has on a wonderful mask. She’s standing in front of Kurt’s guns to make a point (love that she’s using her video call background to her advantage) and there are several people in her bedroom getting the tech all set up. I have noted before that they only built one set for Diane’s apartment, and it’s just a massive bedroom. Diane choosing to be in front of the guns does a nice job of cutting off my question about why she’d be arguing in front of the Supreme Court from her bedroom rather than the home office she absolutely would have.

Kurt walks in and tries to shake hands... he’s clearly not very COVID paranoid, and Diane seems to be, and... that’s something I might have wanted to see? How was Diane okay with Kurt taking risks that also affected her?

Diane confirms she intentionally chose to stand in front of the guns. That’s when Kurt gets the push notification. He pulls Diane into the bathroom to show her the news. He hands her his phone and Diane’s face falls. She starts tearing up. “2020 just won’t let go,” she says, speaking for us all.

Normally I hate things that are like, we’re going to contrive this so the news hits at the worst possible moment! This works for me, because the Supreme Court plot for Diane feels more like something that exists to be a through line for the episode. It would also be a little hard to work in RBG’s death as a main plot point—and it is definitely important enough to be a main plotpoint—if it didn’t also affect something in the world of the show.

Also, another reason I like this contrivance is that it makes it all the more powerful when Diane says, “It’s over. He gets to nominate someone. Another Kavanaugh! We’ll have a conservative court for the next 20 years. My whole fucking life!” She’s not thinking about how this affects her case (and that case is basically a life-long dream for her). She is thinking about way bigger things, and knowing that her mind goes to the bigger things before the personal with news like this really underlines how big of a deal RBG’s death was.

Diane tells Kurt, “I don’t deserve you. You don’t agree with me.” “I can still feel bad for you,” he responds. He holds her while she cries.

Jay’s hallucination thing is back. Now Karl Marx is here. So is Jesus. I’m so done with this. It’s nice to get a break from writing.

Malcolm X is also on the roundtable and now they’re talking over each other in that way that everyone on this show always does. (RK gave an interview about Evil where he said he likes having the children on that show talk over each other because he grew up in a household like that. I did not need to read that interview to understand that RK likes scenes where people talk over each other.)

If anything happened in those hallucinations, I missed it, because I didn’t pause the episode. Because I do not care about the hallucinations. Because I hate them.

Now it’s November 2020... Diane’s watching election results and rocking back and forth. She tells Kurt he can go watch Fox News in the other room (so they do have more than one room!). He says he’s fine—he thinks Diane needs it more.

“Yes, but Kurt, if you stay, I know this isn’t sensible, but... Trump seems to get more votes whenever you’re sitting on this couch,” Diane tells him. Ha, I relate to this kind of superstition so hard. “Are you serious?” Kurt says. “I am so deathly serious,” Diane responds. “Whenever you’re sitting here, Arizona goes for Trump. Humor me, please. Just go in the other room.”

When Kurt tries to kiss her, she pulls away: “No, no, no. No kiss. If you kiss me, we’ll lose Georgia.” This scene feels so, so real and perfectly captures what it was like (at least for me, though I don’t have a Republican husband or anything) watching election results come in.

“Uh, if you lose, we’ll be fine, right?” Kurt asks. “Kurt, let me just say this. I’m only saying that we won’t be fine so that the universe will grant me a win,” Diane responds. This scene is so fun and so good! It simultaneously captures a relatable mood, adds some levity, gives us a window into Diane’s life, and shows some of the tensions in her marriage?! I want this all the time!

Kurt leaves the room. Diane pours more wine.

Later, with Diane still rocking back and forth with anxiety (just you wait for the several more days this will drag on!), Kurt brings in the champagne. “That was for when Hillary won. I can only drink it if Biden wins,” Diane protests. Did I also refuse to drink any celebratory alcohol until things were absolutely certain? No comment.

“It’s odd you progressives resisted religion. You seem to have a hundred religions to take its place,” Kurt says, speaking on behalf of the writers’ room. (This joke doesn’t get written if the writers don’t believe this and probably even see it in themselves.)

“Go away, Trump. I mean Kurt,” she shoos him away. Have I mentioned yet I love this scene?

“Love me even if you lose?” he jokes (though I do wonder if this isn’t that joking? I think it is, but he keeps saying it!) as Diane gestures at him to get out.

I could do without the joke about Diane’s heart on the TV for a couple reasons. One, it goes on too long. Two, I was very worried something would actually happen to Diane. You’d think that would make the scene feel more tense, but it does not, because it takes me out of the moment.

“Ok, God. You know I don’t believe in you. But I will believe in you if Joe Biden wins. I’m sorry. I know that that’s not what Jesus taught. There’s nothing in the New Testament that says, ‘Believe in me, and I’ll make sure your candidate wins,’ but I need Joe Biden to win. I’m sorry, God, but I just do. I need some faith.” This is a little much but... yeah. Also, is this the first time Diane’s flat out said she’s an atheist? I think it is, though I’ve assumed as much for quite a while.

The next day in court, masks are no longer required if you’re a series regular and votes are still being counted. I remember those days. Marissa thought Diane was checking in on Jay... Diane was not. She was checking on vote counts.

Apparently Jay’s finally being released from the hospital!

Bad news for Julius—the idiot judge finds him guilty of some nonsense charge and sentences him to seven years in prison.

Diane says not to worry, and Julius asks “Why not?” Good point.

Then we have election results! We skip, specifically, to December 14th and the electoral college vote. I’m a little sad we skipped over the huge party that was November 7th, but I get why they’d rather keep things moving along. I think showing November 7th in an uncomplicated way would’ve just been too close to fanservice. But, man, what a day.

Diane, in a red hoodie with leopard print that she somehow manages to still look classy in, is ready to pop champagne. Then she hears that on January 6th, a joint session of Congress will count the electoral votes and there might be a debate. “Nope. If I open it now, something bad will happen,” she reasons. “I’ve waited four years. I can wait another few weeks.”

It’s been almost a year and they’re still somehow negotiating with Lucca, but I understand why they’d space this out across the episode. Otherwise we’d have to say goodbye to Lucca in the first like, 15 mins of the episode and all those scenes would be in a row. I can forgive (and still nitpick) choices like this when the reasoning behind them seems sound.

Adrian says they don’t want to lose Lucca. He, Liz, and Diane are all in the conference room, and they ask Lucca for a yes or no on their latest offer by the end of the call. Diane offers Lucca partner—she'll be the youngest partner in the firm’s history—and she’ll get a $500,000/year salary. Adrian tries to sell her on being part of American history by being part of the firm.

“We are a black firm, Lucca, and we need you,” Liz says with a lot of passion for someone who knows she might very well partner with Diane. Diane looks at Liz with a bit of suspicion at this, wondering if Liz is showing her cards.

Lucca manages to make the wifi malfunction (or she gets very lucky) and uses the disconnection to call Bianca for a counteroffer, even though they said they needed a yes or no on the spot.

“They used George Floyd because they want you for less. They have never appreciated you as much as I do. All those scars, all that time being taken for granted and undervalued has made you a fighter. It’s made you someone I now want,” Bianca tells Lucca. She gives Lucca a counter offer of $1.3 million and the title of CFO. Lucca takes it. Is there really another choice? (If she were concerned about loyalty to the firm and the partnership was what she wanted, she probably would've just taken it.)

(Also, the partners can’t really act like Lucca is making history by being the youngest partner ever when they passed her over for partner two years earlier and offered it to Maia! To MAIA! Who had like three years of work experience! And yes I was fine with Alicia and Cary getting partnership offers with four years but, one, that was a scam, and two, Alicia and Cary actually worked. Oh, I see I still hate Maia with a passion. Back to THIS season...)

Lucca apologetically informs Marissa she’s leaving and the offer was just too good to turn down. I believe it. I also believe Lucca wants that job more. What has loyalty to RBL gotten her? She's someone so talented and good at her job that she just gets job offers from acquaintances all the time (starting with Alicia!). RBL appreciates her, but just enough to appease her while still undervaluing her. I don’t know that I would’ve believed a plot where Lucca actively job hunts, but I definitely believe this.

“Marissa, we don’t have to work together to be friends,” Lucca tells Marissa. I’m going to miss this so much. Why is this the best material Lucca’s gotten in ages?! I think one of the things that makes Lucca such a great character is that you can see why everyone instantly wants her on their team. She’s a fantastic friend (without giving too much of herself), she’s not a pushover, and she is incredibly sharp and able to get to the heart of any situation. I love her and I’m sad we won’t get to see more of her.

(On that bit about friendship—I can’t write about Lucca’s departure without writing about the moment I realized just how great of a character Lucca was. It was in 7x13, when Alicia has her breakdown that’s seven seasons in the making... and Lucca supports her. But the writing, and Cush’s performance, never make it feel like Lucca exists to be a part of Alicia’s story. Lucca seems like her own fully formed person who happens to be supporting Alicia at this moment. I don’t think I can overstate how tough of a task it is to get me to care about the other person in a pivotal Alicia scene, especially when that other person was added to the cast in the final season and many suspected she’d just be a replacement for a different beloved character! Anyway, Lucca’s been great for years, and I’ll miss her.)

Just when I thought I couldn’t hate the hallucinations more, we get a hint that they are going to continue: Jay sees one right after he learns that Marissa’s used her quarantine to start law school and he’s done nothing.

Jay says he carries a gun now and it’s “performative.” I have no idea what that means and Marissa and Lucca don’t seem to, either.

Another thing I like about Lucca’s final scene is that it isn’t rushed. We have time for all that, and also for Lucca to tell Marissa about the time she stole her breakfast sandwich, and for Marissa to react to it, and for Marissa to find Lucca’s Birkin bag, and for Lucca to tell Marissa to keep it, and for Marissa to react to that, and for Lucca to sappily say “think of me when you use it,” and for Marissa to nonsensically reply, “you think of me when I use it,” and there’s still a little bit more of the scene after that!

Marissa’s silly line makes Lucca tear up. “God, I’m gonna miss you guys,” she says. “I’m gonna miss this. You make me smile. I didn’t smile much before you guys.” Awwwwwww. This is also so true to character! Her friendship with Alicia aside, Lucca’s definitely said before she’s not one to have friends (which is hilarious because she is, as I've said like 100 times, a fantastic friend and also just like, the coolest person??? Who wouldn’t want to be HER friend?!).

She says she has to go because she’s getting too emotional and says goodbye. She’s also super sappy and when Marissa says, “you were the best,” she responds that they were the best TOGETHER! Awwwwwww.

What a nice, fitting goodbye for Lucca. There’s no bad blood or fireworks—she just makes a change like a lot of people do. I’d like to think she’ll still be friends with Marissa and Jay after this. I don’t want too many Lucca references in future episodes, but I would really like it if we see Marissa and Jay update each other on the latest from Lucca, or if a scene begins with Marissa closing out an Instagram post from Lucca of her kid, or something. I wouldn’t want clues about what Lucca’s up to, but I’d love to see that she’s still a part of Marissa and Jay’s lives.

Now it is January 6th. Liz, Adrian, and Diane sit on the floor of the mostly empty office, watching TV coverage and drinking. It’s so relaxed it’s almost surreal, and it, like many other moments in this episode, feels like a slice of life. Everyone’s dressed casually and no one is worried about appearances or looking like the boss.

“God, have you ever seen anything like it. It’s so fucked,” Diane says. Adrian’s more optimistic—the courts rejected most of the challenges to election results! “System worked,” he says. “Yay.” Liz says in response. She’s not as optimistic as he is.

“Liz. Liz. Sometimes when things work out, there is no parade. There’s no congratulations, but I’ll tell you this: We live to fight another day,” he explains to her even though she makes a good point that a system just barely hanging on doesn’t bode well for the future. (She doesn’t say all this, but that’s a very loaded, “Yay.”)

“Yeah? Then why are you leaving the law?” Liz asks. Diane seconds to the question.

Adrian announces he’s still retiring—and he’s moving to Atlanta. He wants to go to the south to help “create and consolidate political power.” He’s excited to start over and inspired by Georgia going blue. This is a very nice exit for Adrian. I fully believe that he’s interested in political organizing, that he’d be good at it, and that he’s ready for a change. I don’t think he’s always the most progressive person (of the three in this scene, Liz is absolutely the most progressive one, though Diane probably thinks she is!), but I absolutely think he thinks of himself as an activist and I believe that if he’s going to step away from the law, he’d do so to make a move like this.

Adrian—and Lucca, but especially Adrian—probably both got better exits thanks to the events of 2020. If Adrian had just left to be groomed by the DNC, that would’ve been a predictable and boring ending for him. His candidacy would, obviously, go nowhere, and the whole thing felt weird from the minute it was introduced. But this? Adrian being energized—like so many others were—by the ways the world changed in 2020 and using his already announced departure from the firm and recent breakup as a chance to start over and make change? This is great!

Adrian asks Liz and Diane what’s next for them. Liz says that she thinks the Biden admin will be better for black businesses. Adrian asks if they’re replacing him, and Diane says, “I think the big question is, are you replacing me?” She’s smart. I like how this scene goes from friendly to tense very fast, with everyone kind of testing the waters. Adrian tries to force the conversation, Liz opens with something vague yet pointed, and Diane speaks what’s previously been unspoken.

Liz says it’s not her intention to push Diane out. “I can’t change the color of my skin,” Diane replies. “I know,” Liz laughs. Audra’s delivery is fantastic on that line.

“Hey, I’m gonna fight for my partnership,” Diane says. “I know,” Liz says. The tone of this scene is so different from previous partnership drama on these shows and I’m excited about it. This is just a bunch of adults talking about business decisions with each other and treating each other as equals?? It's not backstabbing?? Or drama?? No one is hiding things?? It’s refreshing and I hope this plot stays like this. We’ve done so much partnership drama that I think drama that stems from a real, pressing question that has no easy answers and isn’t anyone’s fault is going to be much more fruitful for the show.

Adrian heads out—ah, I see now this scene is set in his empty office and this is why they are on the floor—and gets a nice last moment with Diane. And then they give him a last moment with Liz, which I knew they would but was still glad to see.

Liz asks if he knows what he’s doing—he says he’s not sure.

Adrian asks if Liz knows where she stands regarding Diane. “It’s going to be interesting,” Liz says. I don’t think she’s decided what she’s going to do yet.

It wouldn’t be an Adrian and Liz scene if Adrian didn’t have some unsolicited advice. “Diane’s a terrific lawyer, but this firm belongs to you. Your dad built it. He did, Liz. Despite all his faults. You got to run this place the way you want. This is a black firm. And after today, the world needs black firms. You got me?” He tells Liz. He makes it seem like Liz gets the choice and then tells her what to do. She says, “I got it,” signaling she understood him but not that she necessarily agrees.

I cannot wait to see what Liz does next!!!!!!! About this but just in general!!!!! Without Adrian there giving her constant advice I feel like she can grow so much and the show will have to give her more to do!!! I think Adrian, for all his many wonderful qualities and all he brought to the show, can suck all the air out of a room with his charisma, and Liz usually ends up suffering as a result. She’s such a capable lawyer in her own right, but Adrian has a way of making it always seem like he’s right—even in arguments she wins. I’m excited to see Liz lead (or stumble at leadership; she is fairly new to management) without Adrian’s direct influence.

Liz walks Adrian out and it’s cute. They run into Marissa and Jay. “Everybody fun is leaving,” Marissa notes. Liz is minorly offended, but playfully. Heh.

Adrian asks Jay how he’s doing; Jay says he’s a long-hauler but he’s doing okay. I like that they included that moment in Adrian’s goodbye sequence. It’s a very little thing, but it underlines that Adrian cares about Jay.

Then Liz interrupts to note that Trump pardoned a lot of convicted and corrupt Republican officials....... including Julius.

Everyone celebrates, but especially Diane and Marissa. Diane lets out her wonderful laugh and then we, finally, get to the credits. Because now that the previouslies are over, it’s time for the real show.

The credits are absolutely delightful, btw. I was a little worried some of the kittens would blow up, though! Once I relaxed and realized what they were up to—literal puppies and kittens because Biden won—I couldn’t get enough of these credits. They work so well because they accurately capture the way I (and all of these characters, except maybe Julius and Kurt) feel about the election results, but it’s so exaggerated that you know the kittens and puppies aren’t a realistic representation of our new reality. They’re just too good to be true, but you may as well enjoy them for a minute. I’m sure we’ll be back to exploding vases next week.

What a great episode! My timeline nitpicks and whatever they’re trying to do with Jay aside, I was blown away by how well the writers managed to move on from season 4, tie up loose ends, and write out two main characters. And they did it all while making me revisit the events of 2020, a year I don’t think many of us want to spend much time thinking about! This episode was enjoyable, fun, emotional, and clever. I don’t know what to expect from the rest of the season, but I’m definitely excited about the show in a way I haven’t really been in quite some time.

This season’s naming convention seems to be titles that end with ... and only have the first word capitalized. I want to see more.

Season FIVE? There have already been as many TGF seasons as there were TGW seasons prior to Hitting the Fan?! Time flies.

Please writers: No topical episodes this year-- no pee tape, no Melania divorce, no Epstein. None of that business.

Sorry if I repeated myself here. I never proofread these things, and I wrote half of this on Saturday and half of it today (Wednesday) and the days in between were an absolute blur so I cannot remember if I said the same things about this episode twice.

#the good fight #tgfthoughts

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years ago

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Treat Your S(h)elf: A German Officer in Occupied Paris: The War Journals, 1941-1945 by Ernst Jünger (2019)

Keeping a journal: The short entries are often as dry as instant tea. Writing them down is like pouring hot water over them to release their aroma.

- Ernst Jünger, A German Officer in Occupied Paris: The War Journals, 1941-1945 (2019)

Paris is very much my home these days and so I enjoy reading about the history of this beautiful city. It is difficult to live in Paris today and conjure up much sense of the city in the early 1940s. It is indeed, as it is called throughout the world, the City of Light. But back in 1940 when France fell and Paris occupied until its liberation on 24 August 1944, it was a city in darkness. Like so much else that happened in France during World War II, the Nazi occupation of Paris was something entirely more complex and ambiguous than has generally been understood.

We tend to think of those four years as difficult but minimally destructive by comparison with the hell the Nazis wreaked elsewhere in the country. But as recent historians have shown the Nazi occupation was a terrible time for Paris, not just because the Nazis were there but because Paris itself was complicit in its own humiliation. As the historian Ronald Risbottom has shown in his compelling book, ‘When Paris went Dark’, “Even today, the French endeavour both to remember and to find ways to forget their country’s trials during World War II; their ambivalence stems from the cunning and original arrangement they devised with the Nazis, which was approved by Hitler and assented to by Philipe Petain, the recently appointed head of the Third Republic, that had ended the Battle of France in June of 1940. This treaty - known by all as the Armistice - had entangled France and the French in a web of cooperation, resistance, accommodation, and, later, of defensiveness, forgetfulness, and guilt from which they are still trying to escape.”

It is almost certainly a unique event in human history, one in which a ruthless and unscrupulous invader occupied a city known for its sophistication and liberality, declining to destroy it or even to exact physical damage on more than a minority of its citizens yet leaving it in a state of “embarrassment, self-abasement, guilt and a felt loss of masculine superiority that would mark the years of the Occupation. To this day, more than one visitor or foreigners living in Paris are struck by how sensitive Paris and Parisians remain about the role of the city and its citizens in its most humiliating moment of the twentieth century.

Indeed bringing up the subject with French friends, my French partner’s family, or even relatives (by marriage - such as a French aunt married to my Norwegian uncle or the French partners of my cousins here in France) is like walking on egg shells. It brings up too many distant ghosts for many families. Nearly every household has a story. It can be one of resistance or one of collaboration or (more likely) one of passive indifference and acceptance.

And yet I remain fascinated and intrigued partly because of historical interest and partly out of curiosity about the human condition under stress. In Britain - despite the trauma of daily bombardment from German bombers - the country was never invaded. And so whilst war brings out the best and worst in people, it was altogether a different experience to the one experienced by mainland European countries. I don’t think we British truly have understood of life was really like under occupation and the choices people are willingly or not made just to survive the war.

The history of Paris from 1940 to 1944 gives the lie to the old childhood taunt: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me. The Germans for the most part spared Parisians sticks and stones (except, of course, Parisians who were Jewish), but the “names” they inflicted in the form of truncated freedoms, greatly reduced food and supplies, an unceasing fear of the unexpected and calamitous, and the simple fact of their inescapable, looming presence did deep damage of a different kind. It traumatised the city and its inhabitants in ways very little understood by others, especially Britain.

The carefully curated image of French resistance against the Nazis has been asked to serve critical functions in that nation’s collective memory. The manufactured myth served to postpone for a quarter of a century deeper analyses of how easily France had been beaten and how feckless had been the nation’s reaction to German authority, especially between 1940 and 1943. And yet the myth of a universal resistance was important to France’s idea of itself as a beacon for human liberty. It was also badly needed as an example of the courage one needed in the face of monstrous political ideologies.

There remained the ethical questions that would haunt France for decades: Which actions, exactly, constitute collaboration and which constitute resistance? It is still asking these questions over 70 years later. But behind such question lies a deeper and more haunting question of moral culpability that many are quick to throw responsibility - along with their own shame of inaction - onto others but not look inwards at their own guilt and passivity.

But what about the occupiers? What did they feel? Were the German Wehrmacht during the day simply tourists sitting in cafes, dining on gourmand food, buying silk stockings and the latest fashions for their wives back home and by night drinking and debauching on the cultural and seedy delights of Paris?

Moral culpability is a question that Ernst Jünger, the celebrated German author, never asks himself of his time as a German officer in Paris. But culpability is a question that looms large after reading the war journals of Ernst Jünger from 1941-1945, now published by Columbia University Press as A German Officer in Occupied Paris: The War Journals, 1941-1945. It should have been re-titled as a ‘A German writer pre-occupied by Parisian night life and his navel’.

Ernst Jünger (1895-1998) was what is sometimes called a “controversial” figure. A First World War hero who was wounded seven times, he was undoubtedly uncommonly brave. He also insisted that those who were less brave should play their part, forcing retreating soldiers to join his unit at gunpoint. His 1920 book Storm of Steel (In Stahlgewittern), recounting his war experiences and portraying war in a heroic light, made him famous. In the 1920s he became involved in anti-democratic right-wing groups like the paramilitary Freikorps and wrote for a number of nationalist journals. He remained aloof from the Nazis, however, and, while he boasted that he “hated democracy like the plague”, was more of a nationalist than a racist.

Jünger spent much of the Second as an officer stationed in Paris, where these war journals are an almost daily record of the views and impressions of a well-read literary figure, entomologist, and cultural critic, now available for the first time in English translation in A German Officer in Occupied Paris. Posted in white-collar positions in Paris with the German military during the 1940-1944 occupation.

Nazi Germany produced two wartime diaries of equal literary and historical significance but written from the most different perspectives conceivable: Victor Klemperer and Ernst Jünger. Victor Klemperer wrote furtively, in daily dread of transport to an extermination camp, a fate he was spared by the firebombing of Dresden. Ernst Jünger, by contrast, had what was once called a “good war.” As a bestselling German author, he drew cushy occupation duty in Paris, where he could hobnob with famous artists and writers, prowl antiquarian bookstores, and forage for the rare beetles he collected. Yet Klemperer and Jünger both found themselves anxiously sifting propaganda and hearsay to learn the truth about distant events on which their lives hung.

For English-speaking readers who do not know his work, A German Officer in Occupied Paris shows the many sides of this complex, elusive writer.

In the judicious and helpful foreword by San Francisco-based historian Elliot Neaman, who says. “Like a God in France, Jünger operated on the edge of politics in Paris, rather like a butterfly fluttering among the resistors and collaborators. He didn’t trust the generals, who had taken a personal oath to Hitler, to be able to carry out a coup.”

Jünger had visited the city prior to the war, was fluent in French, and now had the contacts and the time to become even more familiar with the French capital. During his stay in Paris he met painters such as Georges Braque and Pablo Picasso as well as literary figures including Louis-Ferdinand Céline and Jean Cocteau, all of whom figure in his Journals, which reflect a view of Paris that had become a tourism mecca during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

To Jünger, Paris was “a capital, symbol and fortress of an ancient tradition of heightened life and unifying ideas, which nations especially lack nowadays” (30 May 1941). After wandering around the Place du Tertre, near the Sacré Cœur Cathedral in the Montmartre section of Paris, he wrote: “The city has become my second spiritual home and represents more and more strongly the essence of what I love and cherish about ancient culture” (18 September 1942). At the same time, Jünger was aware of the “shafts of glaring looks” with which he was sometimes viewed by locals as he wandered in uniform through the city’s streets and byways (18 August 1942, 89, and 29 September 1943).

A German Officer in Occupied Paris is divided into four parts: the “First Paris Journal,” his writings from 1941 through October 1942; “Notes from the Caucasus,” continuing his account through February 1943; the “Second Paris Journal,” covering the period from his return to Paris through the liberation of France in the late summer of 1944; and finally the “Kirchhorst Diaries,” his account of having been placed in charge of the local militia [Volkssturm] and his reflections on the bombings and imminent defeat of Germany.

The “First Paris Journal” reflects the comings and goings of a German officer and writer happy to rediscover Paris at a time when it seemed clear that Germany had won the war and would dominate France and perhaps Europe indefinitely. Closer physically to the fighting following his transfer to the East in October 1942, Jünger devoted greater attention to the fighting and the raw nature of the German-Soviet struggle in “Notes from the Caucasus.”

By the time he returned to Paris and began his “Second Paris Journal�� in February 1943, the Germans had been defeated at Stalingrad and it had become increasingly evident that a titanic struggle loomed and that the Germans might well lose the war.

The final section, the “Kirchhorst Diaries,” is set against the backdrop of the Allied invasion of Germany, accompanied by intense bombing and the destruction of German cities and homes including Jünger’s own, and the seemingly countless numbers of civilian refugees seeking shelter and food. Through it all, Jünger continues his reading, including that of the Bible, his book collecting, and visits to antiquarian booksellers when possible, and his chats with various literary figures in Paris and, at times, in Germany.

Much of the material in the Journals is introspective, with Jünger addressing his innermost thoughts and dreams. Snakes also appear with some frequency in the Journals, for example, in the entry of 13 July 1943, where during a restless night because of air raid sirens in Paris, he recalls having dreamt of dark black snakes devouring more brightly colored ones. In the Journal entry, he linked snakes back to primal forces incarnating life and death, and good and evil. This connection, he noted, was the reason people fear the sight of a snake, “almost stronger than the sight of sexual organs, with which there is also a connection” (13 July 1943). Following a conversation with the “Doctoresse,” the name that Jünger used for Sophie Ravoux, with whom he was intimate and had an affair in Paris, he described his own manner of thinking as “atomistically by osmosis and filtration of the smallest particles of thoughts.” His thought process, he explained, ran not according to principles of cause and effect but rather at the “level” of the vowels of a sentence, on the molecular level; “This explains why I know people who couldn’t help becoming my friends, even through dreams” (22 January 1944). Addressing Eros and sexual organs, Jünger added that he wished to study the connections between language and physique. Colours also had spiritual values, “Just as green and red are part of white, higher entities are polarised in intellectual couples—as is the universe into blue and red”.

Jünger’s position as an army captain gave him a panorama of the war that left no room for heroes. Violence became a grim leveller that made ideologies interchangeable. Germans on the eastern front were reading On the Marble Cliffs as a condemnation of Soviet Russia rather than of Nazi Germany. Hitler had unleashed a dehumanising force on the world, one that made Russians, Germans, the French Resistance and Allied pilots all look the same, locked in an escalating cycle of cruelty. Jünger witnessed Allied planes strafing screaming children in the streets, releasing bombs timed to explode while presents were handed out on Christmas Eve. Accounts drifted in of Parisian friends, who had once tried to transcend national boundaries with him through measured discussion in the salons, being harassed as collaborators. His summary of this second war could have been a reverse of the first: ‘Inactivity brings men together, whereas battle separates them.’

The picture of Jünger’s political views that emerges in his Journals, however, is a highly chivalric and military elitist one in which a small number of bold idealists, for lack of a better term, struggle against demos and technocracy, democracy and technicians, who are destroying the soul of an older European society. Writing while back home in Kirchhorst on 6 November 1944, following the expulsion of the Germans from France and walking around viewing the destruction wrought by the Allied bombs in Germany, he observed: “As I walked, I thought about the cursory style of contemporary thinkers, the way they pronounce judgment on ideas and symbols that people have been working on and creating for millennia. In so doing they are unaware of their own place in the universe, and of that little bit of destructive work allocated to them by the world spirit.”

He went on to criticise “the old liberals, Dadaists, and free-thinkers, as they begin to moralise at the end of a life devoted to the destruction of the old guard and the undermining of order.” Jünger then referred to Dostoevsky’s novel The Demons, in which the sons of Stepan Trofimovich “are encouraged to scorn anything that had formerly been considered fundamental.” Having destroyed their father, these “young conservatives,” now sensing “the new elemental power” of “the demos,” are then dragged to their deaths. In the ensuing chaos, “only the nihilist retains his fearsome power.” Jünger mentions Hindenburg, and the destruction of the conservatives by the Nazis is clearly implied (6 November 1944).

In August 1943, he described his political views as a combination of Guelph (relating to the medieval supporters of the Pope against the Holy Roman Emperor), Prussian, Gross-Deutscher (in support of a Greater Germany including Austria), European, and citizen of the world “all at once.” As he put it, “My political core is like a clock with cog wheels that work against each other.” However, he added: “Yet, when I look at the face of the clock, I could imagine a noon when all these identities coincide” (1 August 1943).

While violence raged all around, Jünger continued his secret diary, for publication after the war. This ended for him when American tanks rumbled through his village in April 1945, Jünger proclaiming that the deeper the fall, the greater the ensuing rise. Jünger survived investigation in the immediate postwar period and went on to become a grand old man of German literature, with a considerable following at home and abroad. A year before his death he was – as the phrase goes – received into the Catholic church. Having lived through a violent century he expired in his bed in his 103rd year.

The war journals is a highly nuanced, albeit self-made, picture of a human being in the middle of World War II, who is a flirtatious fascist, yet who apparently seems to care for other human beings, regardless of their so-called social strata or race. Take for example this entry dated Paris, 28 July 1942, “The unfortunate pharmacist on the corner: his wife has been deported. Such benign individuals would not think of defending themselves, except with reasons. Even when they kill themselves, they are not choosing the lot of the free who have retreated into their last bastions, rather they seek the night as frightened children seek their mothers. It is appalling how blind even young people have become to the sufferings of the vulnerable; they have simply lost any feeling for it. They have become too weak for the chivalrous life. They have even lost the simple decency that prevents us from injuring the weak. The opposite is true: they take pride in it.”

Having said that, I found some of the contents repugnant as Jünger, a devout entomologist, easily writes about finding a new insect while fires are burning all around Paris in 1943. Indeed Jünger paints himself as the detached botanist-scholar, determined to survive and help the world recover in peacetime. For him, the best way to avoid being sucked into the vortex of violence was to disconnect from emotion and group mentalities: to feel nothing and be on no one’s side, only bearing witness. A detached eye in the storm.

His journal is a hedonistic carousel, as he frequented theatres, literary salons and Left bank bookstalls along the Seine, as well as having a meeting of artistic minds with Picasso, Braque and Cocteau. It’s possible to make your way through this collection and have a grand ole time, enjoying the moments when Jünger encounters celebrities like Picasso, or when Monet’s daughter-in-law gives him the key to the gardens at Giverny for his own private tour, or when he describes another gourmet meal with the well-heeled of Parisian society: “The salad was served on silver, the ice cream on a heavy gold service that had belonged to Sarah Bernhardt.” Jünger relishes his name-dropping and his contacts with the upper crust. He sees himself as one of the Übermenschen: “In this country the superior man lives like Odysseus, taunted by worthless usurpers in his own palace.”

The author himself gets lost in the fog of mystic self regard as all artistic writers are prone to do and confesses that in an entry labeled 26 Aug 1942: “At times I have difficulty distinguishing between my conscious and unconscious existence. I mean between that part of my life that has been knit together by dreams and the other.”

To read the diary in chronological order is to realise that Jünger’s submersion in art and literature was his way of preserving his humanity while serving the machinery of a lethally violent state. One way of doing this was through a voracious program of reading, chiefly literature and history, often reading two or three books at once. One is not surprised at the German and French reading but at the abundance of English writers, whom he read in the original—Melville, Joyce, Poe, Conrad, Kipling, Thomas Wolfe, Thornton Wilder, the Brontës, ad infinitum. The range is also remarkable. Jünger pivots from the 1772 fantasy Diable amoureux to a biography of the painter Turner to Crime and Punishment. And throughout the entire diary, one finds him reading the Bible, cover to cover, which he began shortly after his posting to Paris.

Over and over again I had to remind myself this is a diary. Diaries by definition have one eye on self serving posterity.

So it’s not surprising that Jünger would tweak reality to create this image of poetic detachment. With his constant stories of indulgence in Paris, the reader might assume he had no job while he was there. In fact he was censoring letters and newspapers, a cog in the Nazi machine he so despised. He omits anything that would make him appear a villain. An ongoing extramarital affair in Paris is barely hinted at. But neither does he try to look a hero, omitting how he passed on to Jews information of upcoming deportations, buying them time to escape.

Should he have continued to enjoy his life as a flâneur for so long? He had solid proof of what was going on, debriefed as he was on the mass shootings and death camps on the eastern front. Throughout his career he had railed against inertia, lauding men of action who sacrificed themselves for a just cause. And then such a cause presented itself. Jünger’s colleagues in Paris were involved in the Stauffenberg plot of 1944, and asked for his help. He was one of the most influential conservative voices in Germany at the time, one of the few that Hitler’s followers might have taken seriously. Yet he refused to commit himself during the chaos. Instead, Jünger waited for evil to destroy itself: a fireman who fought the blaze by waiting for the building to burn down. As usual, he inhabited a grey area.

Jünger remains a problematic figure of controversy, perhaps even emblematic of the aged old question how does one respond to brutish evil? There are no easy answers. Addressing the French who collaborated with Germany during the war Robert Paxton, a well regarded historian of Vichy France wrote, “Even Frenchmen of the best intentions, faced with the harsh alternative of doing one’s job, whose risks were moral and abstract, or practicing civil disobedience, whose risks were material and immediate, went on doing the job. The same may be said of the German occupiers. Many of them were “good Germans,” men of cultivation, confident that their country’s success outweighed a few moral blemishes, dutifully fulfilling some minor blameless function in a regime whose cumulative effect was brutish.”

Was Jünger one of those they called a ‘good German’? Eating sole and duck at the famous Tour d’Argent restaurant, while gazing down at the hungry civilians in the buildings below was the choice Jünger made. In his 4 Just 1942 diary entry he wrote, “upon the grey sea of roofs at their feet, beneath which the starving eke out their living. In times like this - eating well and much - brings a feeling of power”.

We are always told to speak truth to power. Before we can speak one must think. But thinking truth to power is never enough in itself unless one acts out truth to power. Words without action is nothing. So the question one has to ask even as one reads from the detached safety of distance and time: how would one act in his shoes or indeed a Frenchman’s shoes?

More than anything, the diary raises, for me at least, the question of moral culpability. It’s impossible to tell what Jünger was really thinking, and so perhaps one tantalising aspect of these war journals is psychological more than anything else. All this stuff is swirling around his life but we hear about the harmless social fluff for the most part. For example, he notes “In Charleville, I was a witness at a military tribunal. I used the opportunity to buy books, like novels by Gide and various works by Rimbaud.” I wanted to hear about the tribunal, but alas, it vanished into Jünger’s damn book buying.

And yet if you judge Jünger by his diary entries alone then it would be very easy to find him guilty. But diaries conceal as much as they reveal. For all the criticism that Jünger has served up a self-serving exculpatory diary, the truth is that he leaves his most selfless acts unmentioned. It is known that he gave advance warning to Jews facing deportation: The writer Joseph Breitbach was one, as he subsequently confirmed, and Walter Benjamin was possibly another.

None of this, for obvious reason, could be committed to paper, nor could the names of Adolf Hitler or any of his henchmen. Instead, their appearances are marked by Jünger’s felicitous code names. Joseph Goebbels, the Nazi chief propagandist, is “Grandgoschier,” a character from Rabelais’s Gargantua and Pantagruel meaning “Big Throat.” SS Chief Heinrich Himmler is “Schinderhannes,” the name of a notorious German highwayman but also a pun on horse knacker. And Hermann Goering is simply “Head Forester,” citing the most fatuous of his many official titles.

Jünger thought a great deal about the mystic and symbolic power of sounds, and he reserved his most apposite pseudonym for Hitler, “Kniébolo,” a name that is at once menacing and absurd. It suggests a kneeling demon (Diabolos), a leitmotif of the diary as Jünger became ever more convinced of Hitler’s essentially Satanic character- in the literal biblical sense.

So grey areas get more grey when we either try to step back and be detached to render a verdict on Jünger or if we step into his shoes to get inside his head. This is the limitation of a secret and coded diary, no matter how scrupulously written and how fascinating they are to read. Diaries are written for oneself or an imagined other; they play on the satisfactions of monologue. Letters are shaped by the contingencies of distance and time between writer and recipient; they become over time scattered in various places and must be "collected" to form a single body of writing.

Diaries are shaped by moments of inspiration but also by habit; they are woven together by a single voice and usually are contained between covers. Diarists play with the tension between concealing and revealing, between "telling all" and speaking obliquely or keeping silent. Like letter writing, diarists inscribe the risks and pleasures of expression and trust. The diary is an uncertain genre uneasily balanced between literary and historic writing. The diary belongs to the woman where history and literature overlap. So it’s easy to conclude that we will always have ambiguity and tension between these two polar opposites.

After 1945, Jünger again withdrew into private life, but continued to publish. Seclusion encouraged attention. His reputation grew. Scholarly editions appeared. In three last decades, doubters aside, he enjoyed growing recognition, travelled the world, deepened his knowledge of nature and voiced concern about human damage to the planet. Jünger poured out books late into his nineties. By then he had swept Germany’s top literary prizes and been visited in his Swabian retreat by the statesmen of Europe, including Helmut Kohl and François Mitterrand.

Jünger’s experience of life did little to dent his loathing of liberalism and democracy. On a country walk along a bomb-pitted road near his home late in 1944, Jünger indulges a moment of conservative relish, telling himself that it is liberals who are to blame for all that has befallen. How wonderful it is, he writes sarcastically, “to watch the drama of the old liberals, Dadaists and freethinkers, as they begin to moralise at the end of a life devoted completely to the destruction of the old guard and the undermining of order”. “Blame the liberals!” was the reactionary’s charge at birth (there is a profound difference between true conservatism and the extreme reactionary). It hobbled the Weimar Republic and bedevils politics today. Politically, he had learnt nothing. Today Western Europe society is eating itself inwards through the corrosive influence of the woke-ness of cultural Marxism and the conservative now finds himself/herself in the sweetly ironic position of defending the tenets of true liberalism.

For English-speaking readers who do not know his work, A German Officer in Occupied Paris shows the many sides of this complex, elusive writer. These diaries are invaluable about the man and his times. Jünger is nowadays probably less read than read about. So these war journals are to be welcomed and to be read with great interest.

For some these journal entries alone will still provide material to debate the moral choices made - and evaded - by Jünger. To critics, Jünger participated too much and judged too little. To defenders, he was indeed on the hard right, but no fascist and, besides, his prose was what mattered, not his politics. Not to pity Jünger’s personal travails would be defective. Not to respond to his prose would be deaf. But all of us can ponder Jean Cocteau’s final verdict, who liked Jünger and considered him a friend but whose aloofness troubled him: “Some people had dirty hands, some had clean hands, but Jünger had no hands.” Jünger may have washed his hands of his time in Paris but the hand of history forever tapping on his shoulder is less forgiving.

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veebs-hates-video-games · 3 years ago

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I guess let's start with what I was grumbling about that inspired this in the first place. I've been catching up on some older games and am finally playing the Theatrhythm games. I played through all the songs in the original and messed around in the other modes a bit, but now I've moved onto Curtain Call because it has almost everything from the original plus a whole lot more.

On the plus side there's a whole bunch of good music in it, lots of fun characters from the main games and spinoffs, and the round little versions of the characters are surprisingly cute, especially when they're running around on the title screen excitedly and suddenly faceplant. I'm a big fan of them adding button controls and not just the stylus ones, which my hands and wrists are very thankful for.

That said, the more I play the more disillusioned I get with the higher difficulty note charts. They get to be kind of annoying and feel like I'm fighting the controls instead of a fun challenge. I just don't like the directional arrow notes with buttons or the stylus because they're always the least reliable inputs and keep ruining my streaks when they don't register.

I still think my favorite note charts in a music/rhythm game are the Neversoft Guitar Hero ones. Harmonix made slightly better charts that were slightly more accurate to the actual music (which isn't surprising because there are a bunch of musicians working there), but the timing on them was way more unforgiving and felt bad to me. As a musician the looser and more forgiving timing in the Neversoft games felt a little more like actually playing music with other people instead of it requiring me to be a robot.

Theatrhythm definitely takes the more Japanese approach Konami used (back when they still made games), like the Bemani games like DDR and Beatmania, which is fine and a lot of people like it, but it always slightly annoys me. I had a roommate who worked at Harmonix who also liked stuff like that, so I got to play some of the older and less well known stuff like Beatmania, which was kinda neat, even if it's less my thing.

Anyway, I'm also really sick of rank inflation...it's worse than grade inflation at Harvard. An A in Theatrhythm is mediocre at best, S is decent, and actually good is SS or SSS. Score inflation is also a serious problem too. It's basically impossible to successfully finish a song and not end up in the high seven digits, which is just too big a number to meaningfully convey much information. You don't need the kind of granularity that gives you when every button press gives you tens of thousands of points. It's just big numbers for the sake of big numbers, and since they don't use round numbers for scores you end up with like 9274572 points and it's much more annoying at a glance to compare that to your other scores than if it were just like 9274 or something.

In conclusion, drop the ranks by like 2-3 letter grades, truncate the last three digits off the scores, and throw out the actual input mechanics entirely and replace them with something that feels more consistent and reliable.

This has been today's episode of veebs hates video games, expanded from a rant on Discord this morning. I would grumble about how much I don't like Melody of Memory or Cadence of Hyrule, but this has gone on long enough already...

#theatrhythm final fantasy #theatrhythm final fantasy: curtain call #theatrhythm series #final fantasy series #mentioned:#guitar hero series #bemani series

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eponymous-rose · 5 years ago

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E71 (SDCC Edition!)

Tonight’s guests? EVERYONE. This is a recording of the SDCC panel from this past weekend!

There’s a table read of the first three pages of Vox Machina: Origins Volume 2, to be released August 14!

Ashley gets asked about the fate of an NPC from the first campaign. Ashley: “Uh. They all died.” Matt: “That’s your fault now.”

Lessons learned through the journey of CR? Liam: “It’s all about the people you travel with.” Matt: “If you can stick to making friendship a priority in your life, good things will come.” Their friendship has been the most important thing to maintain and check in with. Sam highlights how amazing it’s been to watch the community grow year after year.

Favorite RP moment that didn’t involve their own characters? Sam: “Well, that takes me out.” Travis: “I was such a fan of Vex popping out of the water in the bathtub.” Sam: “Anything Matt Mercer does is a pretty fantastic roleplaying moment.” Liam: “I think a certain pirate woman reaching the end of her line.” Laura: “I think Scanlan’s whole... (gestures) as much as I hated it personally.” Marisha: “There were some Percy-Vax standoffs that were pretty great.” Matt: “Percival and Grog having the fight underneath the Keep shortly after the Chroma fall.” Liam: “I really liked Percy and Vex in Syngorn.” Taliesin to Marisha: “I liked you at the Pirate King, busting out all that Cobalt Soul stuff. I wasn’t prepared.” Marisha: “Neither was I!”

Matt talks about how adapting the show to the animated series involves some creative truncation, but also involves holding his ground about what’s too important to change even if it doesn’t tie a perfect narrative bow. “This isn’t mainstream media, this is Critical Role! Some things should be messy. Some things are their own threads.” He’s enjoyed watching new people come up with new takes, and he’s excited to cast some of the NPCs.

The idea is floated of a full-day Sam Riegel DnD Beyond telethon. Sam: “Marisha, can we--” Marisha, glaring: “Uh-huh.”

What has Marisha taken away from Keyleth’s and Beau’s different experiences with leadership, in her leadership role IRL in the company? "I feel like Beau helps me be more assertive in my opinions.” Travis: “We don’t argue with Marisha very much, because she punches people in the face more now.”

Liam’s spell choices are a balancing act between trying to accomplish his own goals and trying to optimize the group’s performance. He’s taken Seeming for the party, but the opportunity to use it hasn’t arisen yet.

Taliesin gets asked “Is there X number of character deaths that would keep you from playing in this campaign?” Taliesin: “There’s really only one way to find out.” Matt: “Is it double digits?” Taliesin: “I at least have two more undeveloped ideas that hopefully will be used in the next campaign.” Liam: “Let’s get to that fourth character!” Taliesin: “I hate you all.”

Missed opportunities and plot threads? Matt can’t go much into it, because for both campaigns 1 and 2, there’s a chance they’ll wind up going back there. There’s a facet of campaign one’s story they got to continue with a one-shot that will be airing soon. He’d hoped there would be more delving into Thordak’s history, and there is another Horn of Orcus out there. Also the Clasp’s relationship with Emon. Ashley is still haunted by “that gosh-dang box”. Matt: “I answered that already.” Ashley: “I DON’T BELIEVE YOU. I DON’T BELIEVE YOUR ANSWER.”

Was Nott seriously considering leaving with her family? Sam, as Laura slowly reaches for his throat: “Yes, absolutely.” He’d been going back and forth with that for a while now. “Nott loves traveling with this gang, but she really wants to be home.” He called Matt about it to warn him that Nott might not be in the campaign anymore. “But I think what happened on Thursday was right for the moment, and we’ll see how it plays out.”

Matt gets asked about how to avoid min-maxing as an experienced DM when he gets the chance to play in someone else’s game. Matt notes that there’s nothing wrong with min-maxing if everyone’s on board with it, but that, the more that you play, the more you might enjoy trying something off-the-wall. There’s also the importance of respect when playing at the tables of less-experienced DMs, where you remind yourself that it is their table. Taliesin: “Part of the fun of the meta-game of D&D is that it’s changing all the time.” He points out that the Magnificent Mansion used to be considered a dump spell until Sam really showed what it could do. Taliesin highlights the challenge of experimenting in these less explored areas.

Sam gave Nott a kid in her backstory because he loves his own kids so much and wanted some of that feeling in the game.

Matt’s favorite Sorrowsworn? The Lonely, which is why he wanted to use them in the game the first chance he got.

Taliesin and Matt are asked if they might release Molly’s whole backstory at the end of the campaign. Matt: “When this campaign’s over, we’ll definitely do that.”

Caduceus is hoping some of his family’s at the Kiln, and potentially some of the other families. “He’s built of expectations. We’ll see how it plays out if those expectations aren’t met.”

“I feel that Yasha is obviously in the best hands with Matt. I, personally, I love the storyline. It’s so much to play with, and it goes with a lot of the backstory that I wrote, and a lot of what Matt prepared, and stuff that I don’t even know, and stuff I do know. I love it! I feel really good about it, but I can’t wait to come home and see what’s going to happen if Yasha comes back.” Matt: “Depending on when you come back, there’s a good chance you’ll have to make a new character.” (The general tone here is that it would be an in-the-meantime thing.)

Matt gets asked how he makes sure everyone in the party gets their time in the spotlight. “It doesn’t always work out, but trying to consider what aspects of the story can play to their individual strengths. You can offer opportunities for each of them to shine, hopefully.” He also highlights that a lot of it is the players respecting each other at the table and being comfortable with the expectation of equal time to shine. “Communication is the key to a good, healthy game group.” Laura also highlights that you as a player can engage other players’ characters if you notice they’re fading into the background a bit.

There’s a brief foray into Evanescence. As you do.

What advice would Matt give himself if he could go back to the first campaign? “Don’t stress so much about what people on the internet think about you. Guard this wonderful little lightning-in-a-bottle family and you’ll be fine.”

If Beau were a druid, what would her go-to wildshape be? Marisha: “I shouldn’t curse. A DAMN OWL. Take that, Thaddeus.”

Marisha: “I feel like the Mighty Nein has turned into fighting for the everyman.” Laura: “I feel like Vox Machina, though, we felt we knew who the good guys were. As the Mighty Nein, I feel like everything’s so gray, and it’s harder to make that choice, and therefore what steps up is everything around us and needing to protect the people who are victims of the bigger picture.”

Matt gets asked how to manage his DM-life balance in terms of parceling out prep time. “It can vary. Whenever I’m driving somewhere, if I have more than 20 minutes of a drive, that’s usually my brainstorming period.” He also tries to keep weekends free with no prep and instead reserves a couple evenings a week to prep, although it sometimes bleeds through to early Thursday morning. “I prepare more than I used to,” largely because of the Internet’s watchful eye in terms of continuity.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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damienthepious · 5 years ago

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okay so this went up at 11:51pm on ao3 but tumblr formatting is a nightmare so uh. happy LKT to timezones that are are still in Tuesday Time? whatever, I made it, somehow. it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine.

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 15)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [ao3] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol), Mutual Pining, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: The humans take a very truncated tour.

Chapter Notes: BOY I'M CUTTIN IT CLOSE THIS WEEK. WORLD GOT ME DOWN, SORRY FAM. I'm RUSHING through to post please forgive any formatting weirdness or typos and also forgive the fact that this chapter is a bit shorter than the last few have been. haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

The Keep releases the humans, and it settles Arum back on his feet as well, warbling a song that blends confusion and warmth and a number of other feelings that bleed through their link, almost overwhelming after Arum has spent so long with only his own emotions to process.

Damien rubs his wrists with a strange, unreadable look on his face, but Amaryllis is still holding one of the vines, gently pulling it close enough to examine, her eyes wide. Neither reaction sets Arum at ease, but he supposes that this was not the warmest of welcomes for them, all things considered.

He-

Arum does not know what to do, now that he is home, and they are here with him.

“So,” Amaryllis says, releasing the vine as he draws closer to them. “This is your… Keep?”

“I… it… yes, yes, this is the Keep,” he says, and the moss is soft and familiar between his clawed toes. “My Keep is… I told you we are meant to protect each other. It thought- it did not know you were not a threat, and it has not seen- it has been without-”

“You’ve been away for a long time,” she says gently, and Arum hates the way his heart lurches for her easy words. “Must be nice to be home.”

“I imagine that is quite the understatement,” Damien says softly, though he is not looking at either of them, and Arum laughs, very lightly.

“Indeed. Keep, I-”

He feels the Keep observing, feels the way it is parsing his own emotions and the way it is observing the humans as well, and it is somewhat like seeing the pair of them again, for the first time. It is distracting, though not unpleasant.

The Keep sings, and Arum watches the way that Amaryllis’ eyes light up with curiosity.

“So, I get that it’s alive, but- you can talk to it?”

It hums around them, answering for itself, and Arum can’t help his smile.

“We speak, yes.”

Amaryllis opens her mouth, clearly to ask another question, to continue to chase this new mystery, but she pauses. Her eyes narrow, and then she tilts her head.

“You- huh. You’re standing more easily. Are you- hang on.” She reaches a hand towards him and Arum tilts his head, and when her fingers brush the edge of his frill he clenches his teeth together to keep from making some noise at the contact. “That looks- the tissue is- is the Keep healing you?” she asks, sounding both impressed and a little- irritated, perhaps?

“What?” Damien says, finally looking towards them again, and Arum stiffens at their combined scrutiny, standing a little straighter. “What do you- oh.”

“Oh?” Arum echoes.

“You look- Rilla, have his scales taken on- more color?”

“I think so, actually. Arum-”

“I told you,” he growls. “Our connection is difficult to explain.”

“But it’s healing you. You’re already better than you were a few minutes ago.”

“Of course I am. We- we help each other. We protect each other.”

Rilla, strangely, looks furious now. “If you told me it could make you better in minutes , we would have tried to bring you home a hell of a lot faster, Arum!”

“It- it is not instantaneous, and it did not seem like something you would believe, Amaryllis.”

“Maybe not at first, Arum, but you’ve been healing like a damned glacier and you could have been better so much faster if you just told me-”

Arum finds that he is smiling. He is reminded with a pang that he will miss this, miss her arguments and her fire, miss the soft tension of passing time with Sir Damien as well, and the smile abruptly flickers off. He swallows, looking away.

“I apologize, then,” he says, and Rilla’s argument comes to a halt. “Believe that if there was any way I thought I could have come back to my Keep any faster, I certainly would have.”

She opens her mouth, then sighs and smiles wryly.

“I suppose this accounts for the escape attempts, then,” Damien murmurs, and Arum chokes on a laugh.

“Quite. Not, I now admit, that I could possibly have gotten here on my own in that state.”

“Stubborn,” Rilla mutters, and when Damien raises a pointed eyebrow at her she scowls harder.

Damien tilts his head away, burying his smile before he laughs at her irritation, and then he meets Arum’s eyes. He looks- wary, still.

“So… we have delivered you back to where you belong,” he says, tone deceptively light. He pauses for a moment, but neither Arum nor Amaryllis interrupt him. It is too clear that his thought is unfinished. “What… what happens now, Lord Arum?”

Arum’s body tenses, his stance going entirely stiff. He glances towards Amaryllis, who appears precisely as unsure about the question as Arum feels. What happens now, as if Arum had ever truly expected to return home, as if he had planned for this. He had not expected, in his heart, to ever return to the Keep, let alone to do so with these strange, strange humans in tow. Or- with them towing him.

"I…" Arum swallows, feels his tail curling anxiously, and the Keep drifts vines out to touch his shoulders, to steady him. "I suppose… I am- certain that the both of you must be… eager to return home, as well," he murmurs, turning his face away. "But- but it is… late in the day, now. It would make little sense for you to set out again without rest, only to make camp in an hour or so." He pauses for a moment, still not looking at them as he flicks his tongue, and he can practically taste tension hanging in the air, theirs and his own. "I would… it would be wisest for the both of you to stay the night. If you will."

"You… you wouldn't mind letting us stay?" Amaryllis asks quietly, and Arum scoffs.

"I have been imposing on your hospitality for so long a time now that I've entirely lost track, Amaryllis," he growls. "One night at the very least will not make the slightest impact on my own." He pauses. "If you can stand to sleep within a monster structure, of course."

"Your… your Keep will not mind our presence, either?"

This next question from Damien, and Arum glances their way again, raising an eyebrow as the Keep sings its answer, decisively closing the portal behind them at last. Arum notes with no small measure of surprise that neither of the humans appear unsettled, that their escape route has vanished.

"Its sense of hospitality is far more developed than my own," he mutters. "I doubt very much it could be convinced to allow you to leave without at least providing you a meal."

Amaryllis smiles. "Does the Keep cook, then, or do I finally get to see your theoretical culinary skills?"

Arum shoots the doctor a glare, puffing up his chest as he growls. "I assure you, Amaryllis, that you will see that my culinary skills are completely and entirely," he pauses, "adequate."

Amaryllis blinks, and then bursts into laughter, her entire body jolting with it as she leans against Damien, who is pursing his lips together tight, his eyes sparkling with his own barely suppressed mirth.

Arum is glad that they are too caught in the amusement to look at him, for only a few moments. He does not like to think what they will see on his face, if they look at him right now. Their joy, bubbling bright within his home-

It is overwhelming.

"Keep," he says before they've entirely recovered, looking away. "Open the way, if you would."

Amaryllis stops laughing as the doorway opens again, the noises of chiming and insects and life drifting lazily through the passage, and her eyes light with curiosity, as Arum had hoped they would.

"It seems… appropriate, that I should show you my home, as you showed me yours, does it not?"

"A tour?" she says, raising an eyebrow, and Arum snorts. "Sure, sounds fun, actually."

"What… what is through there?" Sir Damien asks, his own curiosity mitigated rather obviously by his nerves.

"The room I believe Amaryllis will take the greatest interest in," he says with a shrug. "I did not think the impatient creature should like to wait."

"Okay, fair," Rilla says with a grin. "But now you have to tell me."

Arum barely manages to suppress another laugh. "Come, then, you ridiculous creature. Let me show you my greenhouse."

There's just so much, is the thing. So much life, so many plants and fungi that Rilla has either needed to pay out the nose for, scrabble tooth and nail to find on her own, has only seen in sketches, or didn't even believe existed at all, before. It's like a dream, honestly. If Arum hadn't already told her about the Hermit (a bittersweet sting, that memory- she can't help but be disappointed that the flower was destroyed, but the fact that he trusted her enough to tell her is- interesting evidence), she would have it in the back of her mind anyway, half expecting it to be hidden here, among so many other impossible specimens.

The space is enormous- the Keep itself must be huge, the size of a town, maybe, and it would probably take her weeks to see everything that Arum has in his collection.

Longer, actually, because his collection is exactly as organized as the swamp outside. She's beginning to see where he was coming from, exactly, with his complaints about her own organizational systems.

"So that's the pond you were talking about, for keeping the Jungle Flame from causing trouble?"

Arum and Damien have been drifting behind her, Arum tapping a surprising degree of patience as she bolts from wonder to wonder, and now he nods, his lip turning wryly.

"I may still, despite the strategy you shared. One cannot be too cautious with fire, within a structure such as this."

"No, that makes sense," she says, tilting her head at the pond, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "And the Keep can just- grow an island, there?"

"The Keep is the entirety of this place. It shifts and changes as it is needed."

"That… sounds really cool, actually. Huh."

There is so much, so much to see, to investigate. She could get lost in here, metaphorically speaking. She could just keep finding more and more fascinating things to ask Arum about, more answers to questions she's had penned into the margins of countless journals.

And it's good, she thinks, to have something here to focus on, besides Arum himself. He's so vibrant, now. She didn't realize, all this time, how washed out his injuries had made him, how much he had been muted by pain and recovery. Here, with the Keep performing whatever magic it needs to help him stand easy again, he gleams as glossy as the plants he keeps, he practically thrums with relief and joy, and Rilla-

Rilla's throat hurts, just a bit, because she knows that she won't have any excuse not to leave, when morning comes.

She sinks to kneel, feeling the soft dirt and moss beneath her knees, cool and real and distracting, and she pulls out her recorder.

One more little mystery. Just one more little problem to solve, before she admits to herself that she still doesn't have an answer to the problems that really matter.

Amaryllis is deeply, deeply engrossed with her recorder beside a pair of symbiotically growing plants when Arum realizes that Sir Damien is staring at him, now, instead of at the doctor.

"I apologize, honeysuckle," he says, raising his eyebrow.

Damien blinks. "Apologize? For- for what, precisely?"

"This has been a rather single-minded tour, as Amaryllis put it. We have indulged her curiosities, but I cannot imagine that you share the depth of her interest in my collection of flora."

"Ah," he says, his lip pulling into a surprised smile. "Perhaps not, but- you need not apologize." He turns his gaze towards Amaryllis, then, his smile going gentle. "Her delight is precisely as my own. And besides, it is not as if I expected that we should arrive to your home and you would entertain me, Lord Arum. I did not expect serenades."

Arum chokes a laugh, his tail curling behind him, and-

A thought.

"Not… not serenades, of course," Arum murmurs, and Damien's attention flicks back towards him, curious. "But- perhaps there is something that may interest you." He pauses, and after a moment Damien gestures for him to continue. "I do have a small library. Nothing particularly impressive, and the majority of my volumes will be unreadable to you, but- would you like- rather, I could show you. If you would like."

Damien stares at him for a moment, lips parted, and then he smiles and Arum bites down the rattle that wants to shake in his chest.

"That- yes, that would be- I would be delighted."

"Excellent," Arum says, and then he looks away, his eyes returning helplessly towards Amaryllis for a moment. "Though- she does not seem keen to be pulled away, just yet."

Damien's smile goes soft again, and he shakes his head. "Perhaps not. Just a moment, Arum."

Damien steps closer to his- to Amaryllis, leaning down to murmur something by her ear as she kneels by the flora, and she does not look up from the plant, though Arum sees her mouth move in response, and the focus on her face softens for only a moment when Damien leans the last inch closer to place a kiss at her temple before he straightens and returns to join Arum.

"I told her we would not be long," he explains, and then he makes a rather unnecessarily elegant gesture with his hand.

Rather trusting, Arum thinks, to be so willing to leave Amaryllis alone and unprotected in Arum's Keep. If they meant her harm-

"Right. Right, then." Arum clears his throat. "Keep, the scroll room, if you would?"

Damien watches the vines grow to create the portal with that same mixed trepidation and fascination, but he does not hesitate to step through after Arum, and his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the room.

Amaryllis would call it disorganized, certainly, but such chaos does not trouble Arum. As he said, his library is not impressive by any standards. Literature is not among his more passionate interests, but former Keep-Lords have certainly gathered enough over the Keep's long, long life to amass a decent collection.

"There- oh, so many of these look- positively ancient, Arum," Damien murmurs, lifting a hand but not daring to touch the case of one of the more rare scrolls.

"They are ancient," Arum drawls. "Most of them, anyway. I have added very little to the proceedings, so most of the texts predate my own lifespan. Hence the age. The Keep maintains the air in this space in such a way that it preserves the more delicate parchment. You may examine whatever you like on the shelf on the far wall, however. Those volumes are newer, more sturdy, and if I remember correctly there should be one or two that are written in the human script."

Damien looks bemused for a moment. "You have texts written by humans?"

"Information is information, honeysuckle," Arum says with a shrug, and Damien purses his lips in consideration before he nods, stepping towards the indicated shelf to peruse.

While he is so engrossed, Arum need not force himself to avert his gaze. Damien's focus is… intense. Distracting. It is difficult for Arum, to pull his eyes away. For the moment he does not bother.

"Ah-" Damien laughs very lightly. "It seems you already had a primer in human poetry before we met, Lord Arum," Damien says, running his fingers lightly across the spine of a book and slipping it from the shelf. "I know this poet. She wrote of the Saints, primarily."

Arum clenches his teeth, feeling his frill flutter. "There is little coherency to the collection, little songbird. I could not possibly say how such a work made its way into my hands." He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at the book as Damien opens it and flips through. "I remember that one, yes." He sneers. "I should apologize, I think, that I cannot provide you more stimulating material to peruse."

"What?" Damien lifts his head. "What do you- mean?"

Arum shrugs, a little aggressively. "I am aware that my collection is limited, honeysuckle. I may have a collection of poetry or two, but I do not possess any volumes of the quality that our doctor shared with me."

"The- the quality?"

"The tome you are holding is rather dry by comparison, I should say," he inhales, hisses a breath, looks away, mutters, "it does not compare. It will not stick in your mind like … like…" he trails off, and- well. The words come almost too easily. "The paper of the lantern will not rise without the flame," he breathes, pretending not to feel his frill rising higher at his neck, "And so ascended I, alight and burning when you came." Arum pauses a long moment, then, feeling the odd way those words curl on his tongue, the way they make him feel, the sympathetic heat they kindle behind the cage of his ribs, and then he exhales again. "Yes. I do not think I shall forget those words, as I have forgotten so many of the dusty poems I have been storing here."

He pauses again, and Sir Damien does not speak. Arum notices, then, that the knight's heart is beating rather quickly, and when he looks to Damien again he presses the book tight against his chest, his lips parting in clear surprise.

"What?" Arum grumbles, thrown by the sudden intensity in Damien's expression, by the heavy tension he can taste on the air. "What, honeysuckle? I have already admitted that your species is… somewhat skilled, in such arts. I will not say so again."

"N-no, I- it is simply that- I- well, you- you read- you read-" he stammers off, losing words entirely for a long moment.

"I read nearly everything Amaryllis provided me in that little basket of hers. Why? What does it matter?" He projects a sneer. "Again, I already told you. Human poetry is not- it is not entirely disagreeable."

"But you read- you read my poe-"

Arum blinks, and stares down at Damien as the poet swallows his words, and Arum's stomach drops in something like panic.

"Those- that- those were… your words?"

"I, ah- yes, I-"

"She stuck them in the basket with the rest," Arum barks, tail thrashing. "She did not mention that- that they were- that they were private-"

"Not-" Damien bursts into a breath of uncomfortable laughter, and Arum barely resists an urge to either bolt from the room or- or to sway closer to the human, instead. "They are not private, not precisely, but- that was from a… a collection, verses written for my- for Rilla. Poetry that my flower inspired, with her brilliance and beauty."

Damien's dark cheeks are darker, now, flushed, and he is looking at the shelf of volumes, away from Arum, and Arum-

More words drift back to him. More phrases, warm and fond, enraptured- sensual, at times, and-

It is no wonder, then, that every line of verse on those pages reminded Arum of her. Of the pair of them. It is no wonder at all, that he had not even noticed Amaryllis enter the room as he read, because her presence was in the room before her, in the words themselves.

Unconsumed, enlightened, and by your heat unfurled

Together, hand in hand, we rose, and made more gold the world.

Arum clenches his own hands, his palms tingling. He should have known, that those words were meant for the love between these two humans. He thinks of their hands, intertwined with such ease. He things of the invitation of Amaryllis' palm, and her gentle invocation of we . He thinks of his little songbird, grasping unseeing in the night, how he settled when Arum took his hand in claws.

He feels what Damien penned. He feels himself a paper lantern. Fragile, and untethered, and close to burning.

"I… I should have… I should have known," He murmurs, and Damien glances towards him again. "Should have recognized your voice upon the page, I think."

"They- many were not-" he pauses, bites his lip, and smiles very cautiously. "You… you enjoyed them? Truly?"

Arum breathes a helpless laugh. "You are a beautiful poet, honeysuckle," he says, and when Damien flushes darker he- winces, glancing away. "Rather- I meant, of course, that your poetry is- not that-"

"It is… it is quite alright, Lord Arum," Damien says. "I thank you for the compliment."

Damien tucks the book of less relevant poetry back onto the shelf, his cheeks still dark as he scans his eyes across the various monster scripts, and Arum clenches his hands.

Beautiful, he thinks again, and there is something almost vicious about it.

"If there is nothing else here that interests you, honeysuckle, we should return to the greenhouse," he mutters.

Damien looks towards him, his eyes flicking oddly across Arum's face for a moment before he looks aside. "Yes," he says softly. "I suppose we should do our best to draw Rilla back to us from her newest puzzle."

Back to us.

He did not mean that.

Arum clenches his hands again, pushes the desire down inside of himself, and summons the way back to the greenhouse.

Arum leaves them briefly, before dinner, so they can finally change out of their travel clothes and scrub off the dust of the road in the Keep's large, strange washroom, and after Damien lowers a hand to help Rilla lift herself out from the large tub (or, perhaps, small indoor pond) made from one enormous waxy leaf, she keeps hold of his hand, pulling him in close so she can throw her arms around his shoulders.

"R-Rilla-"

"Just-" she squeezes him, pressing her face into his neck and sighing there. "One sec. Need- need something that feels normal and real just for- one second."

"Oh… oh Rilla," he strokes a hand down her braid, holding her in return, feeling her breathe softly against his skin. "You know I will always, always hold you, if you ask." He smiles very gently, a laugh in his tone as he continues, "If we were not required to bother ourselves with such mundanities as food and work and rest, I would never let you go."

"That too," she mumbles. "The talking, I mean."

"I suppose I speak at such length that my voice must be as familiar and ordinary as-"

"I love you, Damien," she murmurs, clinging more tightly. "Th-thank you."

Damien's breath catches, his center burning with the sweet shock of it, the way he is never quite used to hearing her say those words. He presses his lips to her hair, to her temple, and he rocks gently on his heels, swaying them together.

"I love you, Amaryllis. I am grateful that I could be at your side along this journey, as I wish to be for the rest of our lives."

"We got him home," she says, her tone a worrying waver.

"So we did," he answers gently. "You've done so much, my love. You saved him. Now all you need do is rest."

"No-" she shakes her head, pulling back slightly so she can meet his eye with a grimace. "No, I can't because I still- Damien, I thought we would get here and I would know what I should do, but- but he's home, we brought him home and he's safe and he's going to really, really heal and I still don't know what to-"

"Rilla…"

"And he thinks we're just desperate to get away from him, doesn't he? He'll let us stay the night and then- and then what, Damien? We just- leave and go back home and pretend like- like none of this happened? Pretend like I can go back to thinking about monsters the way I used to? Pretend I never- pretend that I'm not going to- to miss him, that I don't-"

She cuts off, inhales sharply, closes her eyes and clenches her teeth.

"Rilla," Damien murmurs, and he cups her cheek as she shudders out another breath. "It's alright."

"It's not-"

"It is, my love." Damien manages a smile when she opens her eyes again, scowling at him, and it feels bittersweet on his lips. "You said our feelings could not be part of this discussion until Arum was safe again. He is. He is safe, now, and I think you need to speak your own heart, my Rilla. I think you need to say it."

She stares at him, and fear looks so very strange on his beloved. He brushes his thumb across her cheek, his other hand resting at her waist, and he waits. He is more patient than his love; she may take however long she needs.

"I… Damien, I love him," she says. "I do, I love the way he always seems surprised when he laughs, I love his stupid sense of pride and the way he always gestures with his hands even if it hurts his wrist, I love how clever he is and how he cares so much even if he pretends not to, and I love the way he- he mutters in his sleep and- and when he actually smiles I just want to- to-"

"To take him in your arms," Damien murmurs, and Rilla laughs.

"Yeah. Yeah. Exactly. And- and I don't know how I … I don't know how it happened, Damien, and I didn't- I didn't mean to, but- but I do." She looks down, looks away, wincing again. "I love him."

Damien cannot tear his eyes away from her. He would not be capable of the feat if this place collapsed around him entirely. She is-

Fear does not suit his beloved. Love, however, she wears with such beauty and ease that Damien can hardly breathe for the sight of it.

He lifts his other hand, cupping her face, rising to brush his lips over hers, as delicately as he is able.

"I know," he says. "I know, and I know how, as well. It is … rather obvious, in retrospect. You spent every day with him for months, my love. I am unsurprised that you would see the beauty in each other, that you would learn each other, know each other. You are… the both of you are so entirely brilliant, so clever and stubborn and lovely and fierce…"

Rilla exhales half a laugh. "Damien."

"You fell for him slowly, my darling flower. I told you- I believe you grew together. And I … well. I was not beside the both of you for all of that time. I was distant, in the beginning, both in truth and in feeling, and it took time for me to understand that when I looked at him, I saw… someone, rather than some thing. I imagined so much evil in him, and- I could laugh, now, at my stubbornness, the way I twisted him in my mind, to suit my expectations…" he trails off, shakes his head. "What I mean to say, Rilla, is that I was slower to join you, yes. I was slower to follow you, but-" he thinks his smile has gone sheepish, now. Not quite embarrassment, but the awareness of his own nature making him feel wry. "I think we both know that when I fall, it is a rather quick plunge, my love."

Her eyes flick between his own, not quite disbelieving. "You… you said, before, you said feelings, Damien, but- really?"

"Rilla… my darling, my forever-flower, I know that I told you I would- defer to your choices, that I would allow you to set the pace, allow you to choose what would remain said and what would remain unsaid, between the three of us." He swallows, drops his hands from her cheeks to her shoulders. "But- but I am not built to keep feelings within, my Rilla. Every time he looks at me- every time he smiles I feel the waves crashing within me- the damn has nearly broken so many times already- so many moments I looked at him and longed to say…"

He closes his eyes, feeling helpless and awash, but he inhales slowly and the emotion settles, still swelling large within him, but easier, now. Softer.

"He makes me feel… he makes me feel like you do, Rilla. I look at him… his eyes, so sharp and clever, his strong tail, his claws- his hands, so shockingly gentle …" he breathes something like a laugh. "Loving you, my Rilla, is always so overwhelming. Merely being in your presence is enough to make my heart swell, and race, and beg, and your absence causes me such aching that I feel I could die from it. Already I felt so deeply- so powerfully-" He pauses, laughs again. "I felt so full of love … how could I possibly have anticipated that I was capable of further depth of feeling? My heart, full to bursting already- I did not realize that my heart is not a cup, is not some fragile thing wherein I hold my love for you, that jitters and sloshes when I am overwhelmed, when I falter in my tranquility and take, again, to thrashing. Rilla, my heart is not a cup, it does not merely hold. My heart is a spring, is a source, is ever-flowing, without limit. I love you, my Amaryllis, my flower. I love you forever."

Rilla stares, her cheeks flushed dark, her eyes shining. "And you love him, too."

"I do," he says, gentle and certain.

"And he…" she inhales, exhales, and her brow furrows. "I know he feels something for us, too," she says quietly. "I can't say for sure that it's- it's that, but I know he feels something. I didn't want to think about it, I didn't want to make it all even more complicated, but- but I'm not stupid and- and honestly he's not exactly subtle."

Damien laughs, in surprise more than humor. "That, he is not," he says, and then he pulls his lip into a wry smile. "Rilla… I will still hold my tongue, if you truly think it is best, but … I think- I think, my love, that we could find a way, if we tried. That we could all, perhaps, be happy. That we could have what we wanted." He pauses, bites his lip. "What… what, exactly, do you want, my Rilla? I know how you feel, but what do you want?"

"I…" she laughs, presses a hand over her mouth. "I want- I don't want him out of our lives, at least. I don't want- I can't stand the thought that we'll leave tomorrow and never see him again, I just can't-"

"Rilla, my heart… I did not ask what you are afraid of." He strokes a hand across her hair, soft, soothing. "Please. Tell me what you want."

"I want… I want to know," she admits, leaning into his arms. "I do. I want to know if he feels the same. If- if he loves us too. And-" she laughs, "and I want to kiss him, if he'll let me."

"Yes," Damien says through his own laughter. "Quite." He tightens his embrace for a moment, crowding close against Rilla until she laughs again. "I suppose it is good to know that we feel the same in that, as well."

[->]

#elle's fanfic #scattered on my shore #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #lizard kissin' tuesday #rad bouquet #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #sir damien #the keep #i'm SWEATIN #ARGHHHHHH

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g-w-3-d-damn · 6 years ago

Text

Truncated for Reblogging Tricky Treats and Torture Candy (Loki’s Naughty Candy Shop) Part 6

(Click here for Part 1) (Click here for Part 2) (Click here for Part 3) (Click here for Part 4) (Click here for Part 5) (YOU ARE HERE) (Click here for Part 7) AUTHOR HAS ELECTED NOT TO USE WARNINGS. NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I felt compelled to truncate this part specifically because of what’s happening in the world right now. This part of the story was written as a direct rage-out against the apathetic permeation of rape culture. That shit don’t fly here. I want my mutuals to be able to share this part of the story without the extra baggage of a long-ass post, if so inclined. Enjoy!

The rest of Miss’ night shift passed smoothly. A variety of customers patronized the shop. To Miss, Loki’s salesmanship seemed deeply rooted in fun and laughter. By the end of the night, Miss felt confident that she could run the register; ultimately she worked at a toy shop, and a candy shop, and the product they sold was fun, not items. Through the night, Miss discovered several new problems with her black slacks. The belt line pinched her waist. Her skin hung over the top of the belt like a muffin. A cameltoe appeared and rode into her where the seam had been comfortable a moment before. The fabric squeezed her ass when she squatted to retrieve something from under the counter. Her hips knocked over products. Loki looked at Miss and wondered if she’d made a mistake in hiring her. And that’s when Loki noticed Miss’ face. Loki stopped everything and grabbed Miss by the cheeks unexpectedly.

“What are you doing?” Miss asked.

“Hold still,” Loki demanded.

Loki rolled Miss’s face around in her hands. She pinched the flesh beneath Miss’s chin. She pulled Miss into a hug and squeezed. Her hands wondered to Miss’s ass.

“Okay, unpleasant and uncool,” Miss said, emphasizing the ‘and’.

“I’m sorry,” Loki said.

Loki grabbed Miss’s love handles and gave them a giggle.

“Okay stop, for real, what are you doing,” Miss said.

“These weren’t here before,” Loki said.

Loki flapped the love handles again. Miss felt them. She startled. She looked in the small mirror by the register. Her face grew a hint of a double chin.

“We’re closed,” Loki said.

The open lights switched off, the signs changed, the bell jingled, the door bolted itself. Loki took Miss to the fitting room.

“Get naked,” Loki said.

“No,” Miss said.

“You don’t have to do it in front of me, just do it, look at yourself,” Loki said.

Loki left the fitting room and drew the mirrored door closed. An infinite number of reflections of Miss’s now plump form stared back toward her. She felt fear as she unbuckled her black belt. She stepped out of her sneakers, dropped her pants. The polo shirt dangled down around her hips. She swallowed and brought the shirt up over her head. She held the shirt in her hand and looked at her own body; a red indention marked the area around her waist where the belt pinched. Her once flat belly hung over itself. Her arms jiggled, plump and cute. Mounds of fatty flesh clung to her hips and thighs. The elastics of her bra and panties dug bends into her flesh.

“Loki, what’s going on?” Miss said.

“Can I come in?” Loki asked.

Miss opened the door. Loki held a glass bathroom scale. She put it on the ground.

“On,” Loki demanded.

Miss’ eyes watered as she stepped onto the scale and discovered herself thirty pounds heavier than expected. Loki wrote down the weight with a grease pen directly on the mirror. Loki did some calculations on the mirror, then ticked the pen against the glass.

“Don’t worry, it’s manageable,” Loki said, “hold still.”

Loki left and returned with an ankle-length adjustable black skirt.

“Here, get dressed,” Loki said.

“I hate skirts,” Miss said.

“I’ll add an allowance to go buy some uniform pants to your check, but for right now this is all I’ve got,” Loki said.

“This sucks,” Miss said.

“I know,” Loki said.

Loki hugged Miss. Miss hugged back and cried.

“Am I gonna die or am I just gonna be fat my whole life?” Miss asked.

“Well,” Loki said, “I’m not gonna let you die.”

“I don’t wanna be fat,” Miss said.

“Then you should consider not working in a candy shop,” Loki said.

“I’m not quitting,” Miss said.

“I know,” Loki said.

They held each other for a long time while Miss cried. Loki petted Miss’ hair and kissed her on the temple while she cried into Loki’s red polo.

“Ugh, I need to stop for groceries before I get back, and this makes me not even want to think about eating,” Miss said after a long moment.

“You are not allowed to starve yourself,” Loki asserted, “go get what you need and head home.”

Loki noted Miss’ avoidance at the word “home.”

“Or, get what you need and come back and we’ll set you up a private place in the shop where you can recover from whatever this is in a bit more secrecy,” Loki offered.

“Can I see what that place would look like?” Miss asked.

“Sure, come on,” Loki asked.

Miss didn’t bother to get dressed. They walked up the stairs. Loki watched the cellulite on Miss’ thighs rub together where a slight thigh gap once had been. Loki licked her red lips and wanted to praise Miss on her current figure, but would not risk a mistrusted compliment. She opened the emergency panel and pressed the red button for Security. The steel doors slid open to reveal the security closet full of monitors. Loki walked into the cramped space and opened a locker with a combination. She took a kit from the box. Loki shut the emergency panel in the elevator. She drew a steel plate from the kit. She pulled a white paper backing strip from the back of the steel plate, which revealed the back of the plate covered in glue. Loki stuck the steel plate to the elevator control panel just below another steel plate which contained a button and a label. Loki drew a steel ring from the box, tore the white paper backing from it, and stuck it to the plate. She wrote “Guest Suite” onto a label and stuck the label to the plate beside the ring. The last thing she withdrew from the box was a plastic button. She set the button into the steel ring. The glue smoked, the button glowed, the edges sealed themselves into the panel with a flash of pink light. Loki gestured to Miss to press the button. Miss pressed the button and the steel doors opened to reveal a tight foyer with a white door and black letters that read “D20.” Loki gave Miss a brass key, which she then used to unlock the deadbolt and enter the suite.

The suite was long. It contained a kitchenette, apartment sized washer dryer stack, a full bath, and a small balcony. The foyer door opened into a walk in closet to close off the magic elevator from the rest of the apartment. A second exterior door lead to a top floor landing in a small apartment complex. Miss looked over the balcony and saw that it overlooked the river.

“Wait, that’s the river. We’re in an apartment on Riverside?” Miss asked.

“Oh, yes, this is your new address, if you want it. 6900 Riverside Drive apartment D20,” Loki said.

“Beats living at the home,” Miss mumbled.

“What was that?” Loki asked.

“Yes, I love it, I’ll take it, where do I sign?” Miss said.

Loki snorted and pinched Miss’ fattening cheek.

“I think you’ve signed enough paperwork for one lifetime, Miss,” Loki said.

“Fair enough, any extra terms and conditions?” Miss asked.

“No terms, no conditions… but I do expect you to never be late for work considering I installed a goddamned portal from your apartment to your jobsite,” Loki said.

“I think I can manage that,” Miss said.

“You better,” Loki said.

They left through the walk-in closet. Miss dressed herself in the black skirt and the Tricky Treats polo. She caught the bus to her “home,” and snuck in past the shelter gate, bypassed the sign-in. She threw everything she owned there into several black trash bags. She lugged everything out like a burglar, right past the security guard, asleep in his glass shack. She snuck silently to the back receiving area of the grocery store, swiped a cart, filled it with the trash bags, hid the cart in the brush behind the dumpsters. The streetlamps in the back lot did not work, leaving the cart and the lot in darkness. She went into the store and returned with two more sacks of groceries in a cart that rolled better than the one in the brush. She rolled the cart toward the brush, and in the darkness, noticed just how noisy the wheels were.

“Oh well,” she thought to herself, “I only have to do this once. It’s just three miles.”

Miss stopped in her tracks. The cherry colored double dong sat in the street between her and her belongings.

“What are you doing here?” Miss asked the unassuming sex toy.

“Damn it, she caught us, she’s not coming, let’s go” a voice from the brush said.

Two men walked into the dim lot from the darkened shrubbery where she’d hidden her entire life’s belongings. Miss rolled her eyes and huffed, reached into her skirt pocket, withdrew her keys. She felt for her weapon of choice, and discovered it missing.

“Oh shit, that’s right, damn it, Loki,” Miss hissed.

Miss abandoned her carts and backed away from the two men with her arms stretched out to her side.

“Look, guys, I know this sucks,” she roared at the top of her lungs, “But I had to use my pepperspray earlier today, so that means I just have to kick your asses the old-fashioned way unless you get the hell out of my way.”

The two men laughed. Their belt buckles and zippers hung open. They stepped over the double-dong and continued toward Miss. Miss committed herself to wound these men if they touched her. She marched backward and shouted at them with pessimistic purpose until a flood of light suddenly cascaded around her and illuminated her imminent attackers. She cast a long shadow into the darkness as the sound of a large truck rumbled to life behind her. Miss studied their faces and hoped that whoever started the truck was no friend of theirs. The two men slid into each other, side by side, to hide their faces in Miss’ shadow. They pushed the sides of their hips together, fighting for her shade. Behind them, the double dong buzzed to life. Miss watched as it wobbled and bounced to life, and suddenly hopped up and hooked itself in the back of their belts. This locked the pair together, and one could not run without the other. In their clumsiness, each protrusion of the dong claimed a crack and their pants slid down their asses. Both men stood up straight with a gasp, both faces clear and identifiable in the headlights of the grumbling truck. The truck drove forward, and Miss hyperventilated, keeping her eyes on the faces of her pursuers.

“Hey, you two!” Thor’s voice called from the truck, “look, there’s nothing wrong with being gay, but get a room you guys.”

“We’re not fuckin’ gay! Ah!” the bigger man cried out as the vibration in his ass took control of him.

“Oh, bisexual then, sorry for the erasure,” Thor hollered from the truck.

“You got the wrong idea, pal!” the smaller man said before the vibe straightened him out.

Thor drove his truck between Miss and the two men with one hand on the wheel and one his hand in his lap.

“Oh, I’ve got the right idea. The right idea is that you’re here to harass and hurt my friend. I’m inviting you to let me have the wrong idea. Please let me have the wrong idea. Because if you say I have the right idea, if you imply that it’s better to hurt others than to engage in some consensual homosexuality, well then frankly I’ll drag you both to prison, bloodied. So! You’re either here to have fun with each other, and I can let you go, or you’re here to cause agony to others, and I can’t,” Thor continued with a flourish of his hand, “So, if you feel gay, walk away.”

The double dong kicked into them, locking their hips together facing forward. It took control of their bodies, forced them to march away.

“We’re not gay! This fucking thing can’t make me gay!”

“Conversion therapy doesn’t work, so you’re right, it can’t make you gay,” Thor chuckled.

“Dude, shut up and get this outta me!”

“Need a ride?” Thor asked Miss.

Miss jerked her thumb towards the assholes.

“First off, I was gonna handle that, I need you to know that I was gonna handle that,” Miss said.

“Of course you were,” Thor said.

“Secondly, What did you do to those asshats?” she asked.

A moment of surprised confusion passed his face.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Thor said.

In the distance, the pair of hooligans argued. Thor popped open the passenger side door.

“Free ride to wherever you want to go,” Thor said.

She put her foot on the floorboard with the intent to board. She saw a handgun in Thor’s lap and hesitated. He looked at her, slid the gun off his lap and into the seat between them. He put both hands on the steering wheel. She hopped in the passenger seat, took the firearm, and closed and locked the door for safety. The scents of leather and spicy sweat, musty laundry and pepper filled the cabin. The spicy pepper scent reminded Miss that this encounter might have been avoided if she had her weapon of choice.

“Do you know how to use that?” Thor asked.

“The safety’s stuck on, but yeah,” she said.

“Do you want to call the police, press charges?” he asked.

“You know for the sake of all the other women in the universe I really should, but no, I don’t have the energy for all that,” she said.

“Fair. Should we leave your stuff, come back for it in a bit?” he asked.

“Can we stop somewhere that sells pepper spray?” she asked.

Thor squinted at her.

“Only if it doesn’t wind up in my ass again,” Thor said.

Miss sighed.

“I can’t make any promises,” she said.

He put the truck in gear. The engine thundered as they pulled away from the dark lot. Miss clutched the firearm in her lap in silence.

“Are you going to hold onto that all night,” Thor asked.

Miss snapped out of her stillness with a shudder.

“Yeah, sorry,” she said.

“It’s alright,” he said, “you can hold it the whole ride if you like.”

“Where should I put it?” she asked.

“Once you feel safe? Then you can leave it in the glovebox,” he said, “if you feel safe.”

She laughed at herself.

“God, yeah, what do I have to be afraid of, Jesus it’s not like you can rape the willing,” she said.

He snorted and rolled his eyes with a faint smile as he lightly shook his head. She put the firearm in the glovebox and closed it.

“So where are we going,” she asked.

“Just around the block, there’s a truck stop that sells the kind of keyring you want, we’ll come back and pick up your stuff and take you home,” he said.

“I have a lot of stuff,” she admitted, “there was another cartful I hid.”

Thor looked in the rearview at the black trashbags of junk in his truckbed.

“I’m sure there’s room for it in the truck,” he said.

They pulled up to the truck stop. Miss ran in, used the restroom. Her panties hung on her now thick thighs. She struggled to get them back on, and when she managed it, they did not cover her ass crack. She huffed, tore away the useless things, and chunked them in the bathroom trash. She unhooked her bra under her shirt and gasped at the relief. She washed her hands. She smoothed her skirt. She felt the air against her privates as she walked. She tensed, bought the keyring, and left.

Miss felt inhibited throughout the ride to her new home. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, she blushed, stood to the side to let Thor take the lead. Thor lugged most of the trash bags up the stairs. Miss carried the two bags of groceries, peeked over her shoulder in an attempt to ensure no one could peek up her skirt from below. She unlocked the door to apartment D20 and stepped inside. At some point while she was gone, Loki’s mannequins added a couch, television, and bed.

“Wow, this is a nice place,” Thor said, “you know I kinda thought you were homeless, what with the cart full of trash bags.”

“I was homeless,” Miss said, “this is my first night in the new place.”

“Care for some company?” he asked.

Miss blinked at him.

“I suppose if your fiance wouldn’t mind, I’d let you stay all damn night,” she said.

Thor smirked. He pointed to the washer and dryer.

“Glad you’re in a good mood. If you’re serious, I could stand to wash a load of laundry,” he said.

“I, uh, the washer-” Miss stuttered.

“Trade you a nice neck rub for a wash,” he offered.

“Sounds amazing, just I haven’t bought detergent, it’s kinda been a day,” she said.

“Well I’ve brought detergent, so is that a yes?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Great, I’ll get my things,” he said, “Oh, uh, where do you want these?”

“Just in the floor is fine for now,” Miss said.

Thor dropped the trash bags carefully in the floor. Miss tossed both grocery sacks in the empty fridge in their entirety without checking their contents. Thor walked past on his way to the landing with a smile.

“Be right back,” Thor said.

Miss’ heart skipped a beat. She wanted to hop through the portal, pull Loki into her living room. She tore through each garbage bag and took a mental inventory of everything she’d snuck away with. And then she opened a trash bag that she did not pack.

“What the hell,” she said.

Sex toys, many of which were still in the original packaging, and candy wrappers spilled from the bag. Thor entered the open door to the apartment with two more trash bags and a jug of laundry detergent. Miss looked up at him, and he blushed. She quickly closed the trash bag of toys.

“I, I don’t know what this is, those aren’t mine, I think Loki’s pulling a prank-” Miss said.

“They’re mine,” Thor said, “I was just looking for it. Not, not to bring upstairs, I meant to leave that bag in the truck and when I couldn’t find it, well, I figured…”

Miss sat in the floor and blinked up at him. He stood, dumbfounded, and stared down at her. She pointed at the trash bags in his hand.

“So, are those,” she asked.

“One’s yours, one’s mine,” he said.

“Is the one that’s yours full of sex toys, too?” she asked.

“Nah, it’s just my clothes,” he said.

He emptied the sack into the washer with a cup of detergent. Miss’ newfound double chin poked out as she drew her chin into her neck in a display of dumbfounded doubt. Realization struck her as the wash cycle began.

“Oh my god, you don’t have a fiance,” she said.

Thor laughed nervously.

“What I don’t have is a washer and dryer,” he said.

“Or a home,” she said.

Thor’s face dropped.

“What?” he asked.

“You live in your truck, that’s why the cabin smells like you live in it and it’s also why everything you need to live fits in a few trash bags,” she said.

Thor dropped his ear to his shoulder and let his broad shoulders drop as he stared at her. He huffed in defeat and set her bag down with the rest of them. He knelt beside her without making eye contact, collected the spilled toys and gathered them into the bag.

“If I didn’t have a habit of sleeping in my truck in dark parking lots, I wouldn’t have heard you scream at those assholes tonight,” he said.

“Sorry I woke you up,” she said.

“Don’t be,” he said.

He pulled a neck massager from the trash bag, still in the package. He looked at her, held it up, and pressed the circle that read ‘Try Me!’ The package buzzed.

“You still want me staying all night?” Thor asked.

“Yes,” Miss said.

“Here, pick one,” he said.

He handed her a rainbow package labeled Nik-l-Nips Naughty Mini Massage Oils while he opened the massager package with a pocket knife. Miss remembered the Nik-L-Nips packages as candy wax bottles with flavored syrup, yet here they were as a colorful variety pack of scented and flavored massage oils. Their packaging labeled them as “warming,” “cooling” “tingling” “tasty” and “plain.” Miss’ Finger and thumb lingered on “Tasty.” Thor smirked and took the tasty bottle from her without asking if that was her final choice.

“Thank you,” he said.

He rubbed his hands together rapidly to build the heat in them, shuffled and crouched behind her where she sat. He brushed her hair away from the nape of her neck. She heard the slurp of the oil bottle behind her. Firm, gritty oiled hands pressed their heat into the flesh behind her ears and squeezed the muscles that lay at the sides of her neckbones. She froze. She breathed deep.

“Why didn’t you ask anyone for help?” Thor asked.

She shrugged. Her neckbones cracked.

“Oof,” she said.

“Relax your shoulders. Roll your head. Here,” Thor commanded.

She rolled her head back and around, guided by his hands. Tension snapped from her neck with a pop. She heard him suck the oil off his thumb.

“Mmm,” he said, “it is actually pretty tasty!”

He offered her his finger.

“Care for a taste?” he asked.

She swallowed. She sucked the tip of his finger just long enough to discover the candy apple flavor. He kissed her cheek in equal measure.

“Let me try that again,” she said.

She sucked the tip of his finger a beat longer than the last. He kissed her cheek again a beat longer than the last. Warm, strong hands explored her shoulders. She sank back into him as her breath deepened.

“Oh god, Loki’s gonna kill me,” Miss said.

“Which one?”

“All of them,” Miss said.

“Why?” he asked.

“Jealousy,” she said.

“It’s true, they’ll be jealous of you,” Thor said.

“They’ll be jealous of you, too,” she said, “I’m kinda sleeping with my boss.”

“Well, Loki will just have to learn to share,” Thor said.

“You’re okay with sharing?”

“Sharing? Or being shared?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Both,” she said.

“Yes, I enjoy a bit of both from time to time,” he said.

“Then Loki should really be here,” she said.

Thor leaned towards her until his lips met her ear.

“Are you afraid of what they’ll sneak into your candies in a jealous fit if we don’t invite them?” he whispered.

“Wouldn’t you be?” she asked.

“Nope, I’m usually highly entertained with what the little shit comes up with,” Thor said.

“You know, this is Loki’s place, they technically wouldn’t even need an invitation… they could be here any minute, actually,” she said.

“Mmm, that sounds fun,” Thor said.

He paused as if a thought struck him.

“Are you trading sex for rent?” Thor asked.

“Maybe? Ha ha, I haven’t thought of it like that,” she said.

“Did Loki mention any rules against subletting this place?”

Miss heard the electric buzz of the neck massager.

“You are absolutely not trading sex for rent,” she said.

She felt him lick the tasty flavor from the back of her neck. The sound of his deep-voiced next words paired with the electric tactile rush of his lapping tongue to set erogenous fire to her belly.

“Yes I am,” he said.

The feel of stubble against her bare neck as Thor nibbled the flavoring from under her jaw persuaded her to backpedal on her resolute statement.

“Yes you are,” she agreed. ——- Leave a heart and a share to help others enjoy my writing! Too embarrassed to reblog? I have a ko-fi! Comment your favorite moment/favorite image. Most favorited visuals get art later. **Bookmark me & re-read me later!** twitter | ko-fi | patreon | commissions | facebook | index | tumblr I now have a discord set up just for the candy shop work. https://discord.gg/hE5S5En

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princess-stabbity · 7 years ago

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a rant abt romance (repurposed from my chatlogs) under the cut

the more i think abt it, i would say finn’s storyline in this film is arguably a retread of tfa?

finn meets girl

girl thinks finn is a hero and goes a little googly-eyed and finn doesn't have the heart to tell her the truth bc he wants to be the hero she sees him as

he and girl go on adventure to thwart the first order, which involves going to a cantina and relying on finn's insider knowledge, specifically cited as being from his time on sanitation duty

finn is reluctantly and hopeless, but girl inspires him to be brave and hopeful

smooch in the wake of big battle where one of them gets hurt

roll credits

and i’ve been thinking abt finn and rose and why their subplot didn’t work for me despite loving them individually and going in expecting them to have at least some romantic chemistry. setting aside for a moment the whole retreading-his-story-with-rey problem, i’ve come up with a few small changes i think could’ve made a huge difference for that plot:

1) have him actually stop to comfort her before he tries to escape. besides feeling more in-character for finn (to me), it would bump up the number of emotional bonding scenes between them up to...uh, two? arguably three if you count the scene where she kisses him? they could still keep the 'clay feet' moment where she discovers he planned to leave--arguably it would be better this way bc now she would feel even more betrayed bc it isn't just her hero not living up to her expectations--it's feeling betrayed by somebody she just had a very human moment with, somebody she'd just been vulnerable with. betrayed not just by her hero but by her new friend and confidant--who still decided to leave to save somebody he loved even after he'd learned her story. who knew about her sister's sacrifice and still planned to abandon it all. to not fight to make her sister’s death worth it.

(also, now that i'm thinking abt it, putting off his plans to help rey, even for a few minutes, just to comfort this girl would also be a way of setting up rose as somebody he could come to care about even more than rey)

2) just....have him look tenderly at her when she tells him about her childhood? my memory is that he looked thoughtful--which, side note, we've established many times that this character knows the excesses and evils of the first order, so this whole concept of him being surprised the first order extorts and executes civilians rings a bit hollow. but my point is that (my recollection is) he looks thoughtful, like she'd opened his mind and he was reconsidering things based on her perspective. we know from tfa that john boyega can definitely pull off tender, romantic, longing looks, and i just didn't see that there, when it was the perfect opportunity for it. if they slowed down the cantina scene just a bit, they could've easily turned it incredibly romantic. i mean, how many non-romantic balcony scenes can you even think of? yet they managed it, and between two characters who are supposed to be in a romantic sideplot, at that.

like...slow it down by 25%, maybe have finn play aladdin ("i can show you the world") trying to convince her to enjoy herself for just a moment on this breathtaking balcony by the sea. shoot it in such a way that we can actually fucking appreciate that view. then have her talk about her childhood and have him look at her tenderly, sympathetically. maybe stop to touch her hand only to be interrupted by security.

3) speaking of touching...i actually think that "fight for the things we love" scene would have been 100% more romantic if they hadn't kissed. for example: maybe she says her line and reaches out to gently cup his face. he brings his own hand up to hold hers there, as if willing her to hold on. panic dawning in his eyes as her hand starts to fall and he begins desperately trying to drag her back to the base before she loses consciousness.

as it stands, i feel like the reasons finnrose fell flat for me are

a) it doesn't feel like they have as much romantic chemistry as john boyega and daisy ridley or john boyega and oscar isaac (or, as i suspect, johnson was either abjectly miserable at showing it or directed them to play most of the film platonic), b) it's roughly the same storyline as finn and rey had in tfa but with most of the bonding moments truncated and the whole thing squashed into about 40% of the running time, c) it doesn't feel like you're even supposed to read it as romantic until she kisses him and he puts his jacket over her. until that point, their vibe didn't feel romantic at all to me

which makes the whole thing feel more like it was supposed to be A Twist, something to shock rather than satisfy. a way to further encourage speculation that r*ylo was endgame, bc hey, finn has a new love interest now!

which is frustrating on a basic storytelling level, let alone the fact that i'm very fond of both of these characters and feel they deserve better

hell, the way the actual film goes, i don't even know why rose would fall for finn

for rey, it makes sense. they have much more time to bond, they have established romantic chemistry, and she gets to see him at his best

fuck, how could she not love him after he overcomes his fears to save her? to come back for her when no one else in her life ever had? when that was all she'd ever wanted?

but rose...there's not really a great moment like that for them? he steps up to the plate first bc she fucking tazes and ties him up, then bc she presents a workable plan (side note: i didn't rlly care for the whole...interrupting and stepping in front of her thing. it felt kind of out of character and unnecessary. like, what were they trying to accomplish there? to establish that he's completely disinterested in her and a little disrespectful? why? it's not like that's ever been a trait finn has demonstrated at any other point in time, nor does it really make sense in the context of "this woman just came up with a potentially galaxy-saving plan." if anything should gain your attention and respect, that should)

then he...listens to her when she explains why she hates canto bight, and uh...fights phasma, ultimately cementing his allegiances both in that fight and the one on crait? and that's...kind of it?

maybe there WAS a momentous romantic scene like that, left on the cutting room floor to make more time for shirtless kylo and lactating space walruses

#tlj spoilers #sw spoilers #sw:tlj spoilers

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thetravellingvagrant · 7 years ago

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Day 1: Glasgow to London to Chisinau – A taxi-ing experience

After spending all morning, and indeed the preceding three days getting thoroughly dicked around by plumbers, instead of actually preparing for my three week trek into the (mostly) unknown, I found myself, by some miracle, dressed, packed and fairly confident that I was ready to leave, in surprisingly good time. At least I thought I was. Somehow, in the intermittent time between thinking “yes, I am ready to go” and actually hoisting my bag onto my shoulders, fifteen entire minutes had cleanly vanished from my life. Be it through distraction, laziness or (most likely) a highly localised time vortex, “surprisingly good” time had all of a sudden become “...Maybe I'd better walk fairly quickly, indeed, to the bus stop” time. So I bade my cat a truncated farewell

She may look entirely disinterested, but inside, her heart is breaking.

Stopped only briefly for the customary “pre-three weeks of soul crushing exertion” selfie

Way haaaay!

and hobbled off with some haste to the airport link bus stop. Unsurprisingly, during the course of my ten minute walk, “I'd better walk fairly quickly” time, transformed again into “...Can I actually run with this bag on my back if I need to” time, followed shortly, as I watched the sea of grey, unhappy faces that populated the number 77 to Glasgow airport sail past me a mere twenty meters away from my arrival at the stop, by “...Ideally I need to go back in time” time.

“No matter”, thought past me, a renowned idiot and dawdler of the highest order, “I'll just get the next one. Good thing I planned to catch the bus BEFORE the one I absolutely needed to get or miss my flight entirely.”

Smugly, I sat down and waited, before noticing that I had rested my feet on a puddle of frozen puke, standing up and moving upwind. Quickly, and with no real concern, I checked the 77's timetable on my phone (which, incidentally, a few days prior, had given up with my dawdling on updating its operating system and decided to automatically do it, meaning that, while it has a nice new UI, it also eats through battery like a hot nickel ball through butter. Obviously perfect for anyone who, in the immediate future, has to entire several half day bus rides, and who will certainly get very lost or very dead, if he doesn't have use of his phone at the end of them).

Literally 2% of my battery later, I had my arrival time in hand. Fifteen minutes before the gate closes. That...isn't great. I considered a taxi, though wondered if it was strictly necessary- it's three times the cost of the bus, after all, and it was only fifteen minutes I had to spare before the gate closed, which, as a phrase, seems to actually signify nothing. I can't remember a single time in which I've been boarded or even begun boarding at the time when the gate had supposedly closed. Usually I find myself still boarding long past the flight departure time, so who the fuck knows what any of it even means. Maybe they tell you if you buy a priority pass.

I found myself walking as I thought this. My subconscious mind had apparently decided to walk my usually fairly conscious body to the Partick train station taxi rank.

“Alright, fuck it. Taxi it is” I decided, reasoning that spending £10 extra was probably worth not having to worry about missing my flight. That's what taxis are supposed to be, right? Worry eliminators? You get one if you're worried you won't make it somewhere on time, or if you're worried the bus will be full of smack-heads. Lovely worry-free taxis.

I arrived at Partick station, full of pith and vinegar, ready to talk to a stranger and everything, reasoning that it'll put me in good stead for my trip. I knocked on the window of the taxi and it was briskly rolled down.

“Yeah, how much to Glasgow Airport, mate?” I asked in my best 'dealing with taxi driver' voice.

“Twenty pounds”

“...What? Really?” Shit. My faux taxi driver confidence was cracking. I knew I had fifteen pounds exactly in my pocket, which I had, apparently foolishly, considered to be an ample amount for any route I had chosen to take to the airport.

“...Yes?” he replied, as if I was the one somehow being unreasonable.

“...Couldn't do it for fifteen, could you?” I asked, boldly, using up my remaining little pool of confidence.

“No.”

Of course. I wasn't in eastern Europe yet. I was still very much in Glasgow. You can't haggle in Glasgow. What a stupid idiot I obviously am.

“...I'll go and get some money out and be right back” I sheepishly informed him, before turning around and stumbling on the curb on my way into the train station. Looks like the curse of the first day was back in full effect.

My bank account £10 lighter and my pocket £10 heavier, I returned to the taxi rank, finally ready to actually, for the first time that day, move physically closer to my initial destination. As it turns out, I could have been as ready as I liked, it wouldn't have done me any good. In the three minutes it took me to get the cash, the taxi driver, whom I had told I was returning had apparently gleefully taken another fare and fucked entirely off. Super.

I looked at my phone. Another 1%. I had just missed the next, and final possible bus to the airport, during this debacle. Double super.

I glanced down the rank, entirely devoid of any other taxis. Triple super. And also duper. I had no choice; the only option left was to phone a private hire.

Grimacing and trying to ignore my crippling disdain for talking with people on the phone, I dialled the number I usually use for taxis (read: that my nice girlfriend usually uses for taxis for me). They had apparently implemented an automated service. I have a hard time believing a taxi will show up when I talk directly to a human operator, and honestly, introducing a robotic middleman to this process didn't do much for my confidence. Regardless, I persevered.

“If you need a pick up from...Tribecca cafe in Glasgow, West End...press 1 now.” the robot voice drawled into my ear.

“...Weirdly specific.” I thought, waiting for the next options to be read to me, losing more faith in this entire process with every passing second.

“If you need a pick up from... Glasgow Airport pick up and drop off...press 2”

“Ooh, that's handy!” I thought, jabbing at two with perhaps a shade too much enthusiasm.

“Thank you! A taxi is currently en route to Glasgow Airport and will be with you shortly.”

“Wait, no!” I actually blurted out loud, thinking this would stop anything, followed by a tentative “...cancel?”

“thank you for calling Hampden cabs. Goodbye!”

the conversation abruptly ends.

“Shit. Uh. I uh...Do not know how to fix that.” I decided ultimately to deal with it in the manner I deal with most problems I don't know how to fix and just ignore it. It's worked for me so far. Probably.

Already in the process of repressing the previous two taxi encounters, I phone a third one. This time a human woman answers. Human women are far less terrifying than robots. They've already had their uprising, after all. I deftly ordered a taxi to my exact location and going to the right place and everything and waited, noting that if he arrived soon, time wouldn't even be that short once I arrived at check-in.

Mercifully, he did arrive quickly and was actually a thoroughly pleasant chap. We shared a very friendly, sane and even borderline interesting conversation (a rarity, I find, when talking to taxi drivers, you usually get one of those three at best), which was marred only slightly by being interrupted by an angry phone call from the second driver, who had now arrived at Glasgow Airport and couldn't find me. Obviously.

We arrived at the airport promptly, and for only £13. I tipped him the extra two anyway, because a) It was nice to have at least one of my three (soon to be four) experiences with taxi drivers end well today and b) I'm just a bloody good bloke.

I speeded through security in well under fifteen minutes, because of course I fucking did and was summarily spat out into the gaudy discomfort of duty free shopping. Ignoring literally everything and everyone around me, I sat down and waited for about three and a half seconds before my gate was announced.

My first flight of the day, to London Luton was entirely palatable, despite being full of Londony business wankers, all dressed in what looked like the same exact suit and tie, all loudly having phone conversations with their colleagues seemingly consisting entirely of the word “Yah”. Not that I was actually sat near any of them, anyway. I was sat in the middle seat of my row, which, because I hate both leg-room and breathtaking aerial vistas, I found very pleasing, sandwiched in between a fat Glaswegian man with a poorly applied, badly faded rangers tattoo, who continuously complained about it being too hot and sweated visibly for the duration of the flight, and an equally fat, bug eyed little squirrel man who sucked down hard candies like they were saving his life, rather than prematurely ending it, and who would glance awkwardly at me, literally once every ten or so seconds. Sitting in front of me was a nervous flyer, who found it necessary to peer over his shoulder about three times a minute, presumably to make sure no one on the flight had noticed that an engine had burst into flames, or that there was a gremlin, outside, tearing holes in the chassis. What this meant, for me, was that I had two people staring directly into my face, multiple times a minute, and often at exactly the same time. Consequently, in an effort to stop myself developing a complex, I shut my eyes and listened to music until we landed.

I had several hours to kill, while in Luton and ended up, as I am wont to do in airports, in the Burger King, more out of boredom and a desire to sit down, rather than hunger. After finishing my sub-par meal which, due to my being unknowingly upsold to a large, or super, or morbid size or whatever it was, cost me an additional thee pounds on top of what I was expecting to spend, I effortlessly breezed through airport security and found myself in the familiarly depressing fluorescence of the duty free.

After a couple of hours reading a surprisingly good E-book, which I absolutely bought with real money and definitely didn't steal off of the internet and I joined the queue a full fifteen minutes before the gate closed, whatever that means. Simple.

A full hour and five minutes later, we were still waiting to board. We had missed our departure time for a clear half hour at this point. The queue was hot, sweaty, disgruntled and full of Moldovan people, who appear to be shockingly unfamiliar with concepts like “waiting your turn” and “personal space”. It was fucking horrible, though I had ended up with the good fortune to have been right near the service desk when the queue had ground to a wearying halt, meaning I got to overhear all the gossip as to why the flight was delayed.

A portly female baggage handler, with a speech impediment, who the more inept of the two ...check-in technicians (for lack of a better word) kept referring to as “that 'special' girl”, despite her mental shortcomings seemingly beginning and ending with an inability to confidently pronounce the letter S and the fact that she almost certainly actually had a name, waddled up to the desk to let the two simpletons know what was going on. Apparently, for some reason, catering had taken their sweet ass time to get the plane loaded with sickly, tasteless, overpriced sandwiches and god knows they couldn't take off without them. Why, that would be lunacy.

Eventually though, after an additional ten to fifteen minutes, the plane had apparently been adequately filled with what hilariously apparently passes for 'food' and we could board.

I was sat in the very back row, which would have been a delight, had they opted to use the rear doors for entry, however, for some unknowable reason, they did not. I had to grind the sides of my bag against the faces of literally every aisle seat passenger on my way to my seat, and once I had made it there, found there were no spaces available in the overhead storage. To Wizz's credit, a flight attendant spotted the bind I was in and kindly shifted a few things around for me to give me space. The Moldovan man behind me, however, decided this act of kindness was directed entirely towards him, despite there being literally no evidence to support that fact, and slotted his bag, quickly into the newly available space. Again, to Wizz's credit, the stewardess saved me an entire flight worth of silently seething, inwardly, and told the guy to move his bag elsewhere, because she had cleared the space for me. Not him. That's right, fuck off, mate.

As it turns out, the space-stealer, was seated directly in front of me and is the sort of person who violently pushes back into airplane seats, thinking they might recline, despite there being nothing in their design or construction that hints that they would, so I guess he got me in the end.

This flight was, to put it as kindly as I can, total dogshit. It was hot and uncomfortable and I was tired. My aisle seat meant that one of my legs, at least, had some space to move around, though obviously had to be tucked in every four seconds in order to make room for the stewardesses to wheel the same stale sandwiches past our face about fifty times an hour, in an almost pointed attempt to remind me what stupid shit had made us late in the first place. There was also a toddler, whom, the Moldovan mother of, allowed to wander up and down the aisle alone and with impunity. The toddler, naturally, became utterly transfixed upon me, despite, initially, my thorough disinterest and latterly my thorough disdain for, even at one point, slapping my phone, taking me out of the media player and losing my place in what I was watching. I did not enjoy this flight. Also, when the plane landed, the passengers applauded the pilot, which is irritating and stupid.

Mercifully, however, it did eventually end and I unfurled my body from the seat, almost every joint in my body popping as I did, and, owing to my positioning on the aisle seat at the very back of the plane, sped off of the plane, first, out of everyone. Result, right? Not result. Chisinau airport is apparently one of those ones that don't trust passengers to walk eight feet towards the terminal building without getting lost or falling under a moving baggage cart, and as such, we were instead ferried onto some shuttle busses. Of course, being first off the plane, means you're positioned right at the back of the bus, and as such, get off dead last. Finally though, after quite some time and an awful lot of shitty Moldovan people not understanding those two important concepts I mentioned earlier, again, I was through passport control, and had very, very nearly finished the airport portion of today's journey. Now, though, the scary part began.

My plan was as follows; first, I needed some Moldovan currency, which, I wasn't sure I'd be able to get from the ATMs there, due to tripadvisor's...trip...advice. Second, I needed to get a taxi, ideally without being ripped off. This was the only option to get into the city, other than walking, due to the frankly ludicrous arrival time of 3:00am, local time, then, after being hopefully dropped off in the right place, I needed to locate the AirBnB I was due to stay at, in the dark and finally, somehow get the attention of Maria, the owner's daughter, who would be staying inside, to wait for me (the owner- Serghei- apparently feeling that leaving his daughter alone at night to wait for a complete stranger was probably safer than just leaving a key out for me, somewhere...), by, and I quote “knocking on the door or window”.

First up, money. I strode manfully up to the first ATM I found, put my card in and...oh, ok. That just works, does it. Cool. Well, that was easy.

Money in hand and tentatively optimistic, I moved onto step two; my fourth taxi of the day. I was told by Serghei that if I just walked into a taxi, I'd probably be ripped off to the tune of three times the actual price for the journey. My best bet instead was to find a “table” as he put it, labelled “airport taxi”, where I would get a fair price. Obviously this table didn't exist, so I ended up just having to walk into a taxi.

“I knew it was too good to be true” I mused as I approached the taxi rank. A withered little man approached me

“...Texi?”

“Uh, yeah?” I replied. I gave him the address.

“Ah, ok! You come!”

“How much will it be?” I asked

“100 lei”

Hmm. That was the 'fair' price I was quoted. It seemed a little too good to be true, but having no genuine reason other than my own innate suspicion to doubt him, I decided to chance it.

As it turned out, I was actually sharing the taxi with a young Moldovan chap, who, as it also turned out, used to work in both Edinburgh and Avimore. We had a brief, but enjoyable conversation about living in Scotland and, before I knew it, had arrived on the right street.

“What number?” the taxi driver asked, through his erstwhile translator.

“12” I replied.

The driver seemed to apparently take pride in dropping people off directly at the door of their destination, no matter how dimly lit or difficult to find, which was lovely of him, though a little overconfident, as it turns out, as the door to my apartment was actually quite difficult to find. He asked if I had a phone number for the place. I told him I did. He took it off of me and called Maria, himself for directions. Jesus Christ. Even if I did get ripped off, I was beginning to feel like I'd be okay with it.

With Maria's help, we found the apartment with ease and I was quickly dropped off, 100 lei the poorer. Which, for those of you with keen little eagle eyes, will note is the price I was quoted when I first got in the taxi. I couldn't really tip the driver, as the smallest note I had was the exact cost of the entire fare, but he really did deserve one. He put two thirds of the Scottish taxi drivers I had dealt with, that day, to shame, and honestly, even the one who's company I enjoyed would have had to carry my bags through security for me to have caught up.

As he sped off into the night, the hero that Moldova deserves, Maria shepherded me inside. She told me that she hadn't slept, yet. I had assumed that she would just sleep in the apartment and so obviously felt terrible. She explained the workings of the flat in, frankly laborious and over elaborate detail. I wanted to tell her that this was all unnecessary and that she should just go to bed, but I let her continue explaining how radiators work (turns out they make things hot) for fear that my reassurance would come off as rudeness. Soon, though, she limped off home and left me alone in the, honestly very nice, very spacious flat.

With only mildly tasteless and inappropriate decoration

After the customary amount of phone bibblery and so on, clambered into bed (kingsize, by the way) and fell asleep before I really knew what had happened. My vagrancy had begun.

#glasgow #travelling #vagrant #moldova #scotland #chisinau #taxi #airport #easyjet #wizz air #lei #terrifying airport experience #night #hot #crowded #flight #flying #airplane

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kbaldwin0609 · 7 years ago

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'The Bachelorette: The Men Tell All' Recap: Keeping it 100

‘The Bachelorette: The Men Tell All’ (Photo: ABC)

Warning: This recap for the ‘Men Tell All’ episode of The Bachelorette contains spoilers.

Welcome to the penultimate week of Rachel’s “journey,” rose lovers!

Yep, it’s time to revisit all the “drama” and “controversy” and “heartbreak” from the past 9 weeks — which will be far more tolerable if you play the “take a shot every time some dude you don’t recognize speaks” drinking game. We’re lookin’ at you, pal.

But first, filler!

Did any of us really need to relive those moments featuring Kasey, Kalon, Clint, Chad, some random dudes from Andi’s season, Kaitlyn’s hate tweets — and the highly awkward gender reveal of Ashley and JP’s baby? Of course not. That time would have been better spent grilling Dean about his weird tsunami hairdo.

Still, the crowd LOVES him.

At last, it’s time for the awkward reunions.

Lucas says he still doesn’t understand why Blake was “obsessing” over him in the house, but before Blake can really respond, Adam jumps in with the joke he must have been practicing in front of the mirror for weeks: “There was so much Whaboom, where it should just kind of been like, ‘Whabye.’” Nailed it, bro!

Chris Harrison then turns the conversation to DeMario — who, it should be noted, will only make one very oblique reference to the Bachelor in Paradise s**tshow tonight, because Team Bachelorette is apparently saving that for a separate DeMario-Corinne interview special. Instead, DeMario is here tonight to defend himself against Girlfriendgate.

Sure, says DeMario, I had sexual relations with that woman — but she was nothing more than a “side chick.”

“You can boo me, but I’m keepin’ it real,” DeMario tells the crowd.

Harrison counters that DeMario told him on tape that he and Lexi had dated, but DeMario just continues to deny it, while also dropping some kind of expletive-laded reference to President Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. Dean, bless his heart, puts an end to the discussion by declaring that while DeMario made “some stupid decisions,” at least he’s not a piece of human garbage like Whaboom or Lee. Solid point, sir. Let’s move on.

Oh God, now it’s Iggy’s turn to defend himself.

We feel you, Josiah.

“Look, I have no problem being opinionated,” says Iggy. “My responsibility at the time was to be honest with this woman that I was really, really attracted to… I would do it again.” I wonder if he would say the same thing about choosing to wear that Mr. T chain to the taping.

If you went to refill your wine glass during Iggy’s brief moment in the spotlight, hustle on back to the couch now, because it’s time for Kenny vs. Lee. Or more accurately, it’s time for the other guys to talk s**t about Lee and his less-than-inclusive attitudes. “Kenny might have been the most well-liked guy in the house, and it’s hard to say the same about Lee,” says Dean, who was apparently nominated by Team Bachelorette to be their Spokesperson Against Racism. “And when you have literally 30 people on your side versus one person, it’s clear who the person in the right is and who is wrong.”

While Adam jumps in to say that Lee’s claim that Kenny tried to pull him out of a van in Hilton Head was simply “not true,” DeMario comes to the tiny white Southerner’s defense: “When all my s**t was going on, Lee reached out to me first,” he says. “The Lee I know was a very genuine guy.” Will agrees, saying that he had a decent relationship with Lee for most of the show, and that he was surprised and “disappointed” to learn about Lee’s racist tweets. Even Kenny notes that his conflict with Lee “didn’t feel like racism… It really just felt like, this dude’s out of his league.”

This goes on and on, with the Kenny asserting that he did his best to take the high road so as not to disgrace himself in the eyes of his daughter, McKenzie, and the guys insisting that they never once witnessed Kenny being “aggressive.” Lee, meanwhile, hasn’t said anything — and when he finally does start talking, it’s clear he’s in Redemption Tour mode. First, Lee admits that Kenny didn’t actually try to pull him out of a van (“Yeah, no s**t,” notes Kenny drily), and then he apologizes for not being a “better friend.”

Okay thanks, Captain Understatement. And then, in an effort to wash away all the bitterness of the Lee-Kenny feud, Harrison surprises Kenny with the news that McKenzie is actually backstage. And you guys, she’s carrying a rose for her Dad.

Dammit, I hate when this stupid show makes me cry! “I’m proud of you,” McKenzie tells her Dad. “You were, like, number eight.” And her little face, when Chris Harrison announces that the show is sending them to Disneyland to celebrate Kenny’s birthday?

My stone-cold heart just can’t handle this much sweetness. Good thing it’s time to talk to Lee.

“I should have been a better friend,” Lee repeats, after noting that sometimes his “facetious” sense of humor does not come across well. Yeah, the guys aren’t buying it. “While the episodes were airing, you did not take to social media once to denounce anything that you were saying or doing,” snaps Dean. “In fact, you were promoting your actions every single time on Instagram… Now that you’re in the hot seat, now that 18 people are calling you on your s**t, this is the moment when you’re saying sorry.” Dean’s got an excellent point, but I almost missed it because I was so busy puzzling over his bizarre hair.

Anyhow, all the guys want Lee to truly apologize — not just for “ruffling feathers” in the house, but also for things like this:

“For me to read that out loud makes me feel unbelievable uncomfortable,” says Harrison. “When you see it now… how do you feel about it?” Oh, you know, Lee feels like he has “a lot to learn” in “that area” (meaning, what, common human decency?) and that his statements were “inconsiderate.” But once again, the Men Tell All’s titular men are not having it. “Everybody’s sorry when they get caught,” says Kenny. Josiah takes it a step further, walking on to the stage and sitting down next to Lee on the couch. If Lee really believes the NAACP is like the KKK — “people who hung my ancestors,” notes Josiah — why did he come on a show with a black Bachelorette?

“I don’t like racism at all,” counters Lee. “And when I woke up and I saw that those [tweets] came out, it hurt me a lot, and I started thinking about how reckless…”

At this point, Lee is shouted down by the other bachelors, who know they didn’t just hear Lee say those racist tweets hurt him. “When you woke up the next day and you realized that you sent those racist-ass tweets, the next day did you go, ‘I, Lee, denounce these tweets’?” asks DeMario. “Or did you wait a year and nine days to be on this stage right now, and now are you saying it?”

Clearly the answers to those questions are “No” and “yes,” but instead Lee mumbles something about not intending “for it to come out the way that it did. It cut it in half when it released it onto Twitter from my Facebook.” Okay, so the message was truncated — so what did Lee intend for it to mean, in its full and glorious context?

Yeah, Lee’s got nothin’ — unless, for some reason, Team Bachelorette edited his answer out. He will say he denounces those tweets, and reiterates that the KKK tweet was only part of his full post on FB. (But what did the rest of that post say? He doesn’t explain, and as far as I can tell his personal profile page is private.) So Anthony tries the direct approach to get Lee to say something — anything — reflective about his past behavior: “Are your actions motivated by racist thoughts that are implicitly embedded in your mentality?”

Short answer: Maybe? “I was lacking, and I did things that were wrong,” says Lee. “I am grateful that I have people in my life now that make me not like I was when I made a racist comment. I completely denounce that, and I denounce that Lee. And… I want to learn.” Lee adds that he’s sorry for being “ignorant in those subjects” — and the guys finally decide to accept his apology.

Okay, great. Let us never speak of this drama again. We have more pressing matters to cover: Like Dean’s heartbreak. (And his camo tux.) ((And his hair.)) I know, I know, I should leave the poor guy alone — especially when he’s talking so thoughtfully about his very emotional hometown visit. “That was the realest, most raw moment that I had throughout the entire experience,” says Dean. “Had I not gone there with Rachel, I don’t think that I ever would have addressed the feelings that I had suppressed for so long.” Harrison doesn’t dwell too long on the catharsis, though, because he wants to make sure everyone knows Dean will be in Paradise with these bozos come August 14:

Hey, look who’s here — the Queen herself!

Rachel’s barely up there a minute though before Dean joins her to learn more about why she sent him packing in Dallas. “I am just still kind of confused about why you told me you were falling in love with me, and then I got the boot, like, four days later.” Of course, as Rachel tries to explain herself, all I could do was study Dean’s entire lewk.

Though Rachel insists she meant it when she said she was falling in love with him too, Dean wonders now if she just said it because she felt bad for him after the disastrous family visit. “I’m sorry that’s how you feel,” she responds. “But if you know me, I never say anything just to say something — at all.”

They hug it out, and Harrison pivots to DeMario. “Who?” asks Rachel jokingly.

Rachel dismisses her former suitor with a shrug. “For me, the dishonesty was like, ‘All right, you gotta go.’” Roger that!

As for The Kenny and Lee Situation, Rachel tells Kenny she was “disappointed” in how he handled it — because he’s clearly the bigger man (literally and figuratively). “Lee was Lee,” she says. “I wish you could have just realized that was background noise.”

As for Lee? Well, sir, don’t come for our Bachelorette (or her men) unless she sends for you. “I’d be more than happy to give you a black history lesson,” says Rachel. “A lesson on women’s rights — you know what I’m saying?”

God willing, this will be the last we hear from this dude.

Harrison wraps things up by letting some of the other guys ask whatever burning questions they have for Rachel — but mostly they all just want to say how great she is and how they understand why she made the choices she did. All of them, that is, except for Fred. He’s pretty annoyed that Rachel didn’t give him a chance. “I thought that because I knew you, that I could bring a level of comfort to you,” he says. “But the reaction that you gave me was one that I least expected.” Still, he’s “so happy” to see her happy, so yay?

Let’s give Kenny the last word.

Damn right. Now, on to the bloopers!

The best of the bloopers involve food: Josiah stuffing his face with oysters and Norwegian hors d’oeuvres, Rachel munching chips while preparing to send Josiah home, and Dean’s disgusting gum storage. (“How is that gross? It’s my ear.” Blech.)

Speaking of gross, Team Bachelorette made sure to zoom in on DeMario just as Harrison faked out the crowd by announcing a “sneak peek of the exciting and already controversial new season of Bachelor in Paradise.”

You can exhale, pal — the promo won’t air until next week.

Welp, rose lovers, we’ve almost made it to the end — and I want to know what you thought about tonight’s Men Tell All. Did Lee redeem himself at all? Should Dean skip Paradise and head right to the Bachelor mansion? And am I paranoid to think that Mike Fleiss is already grooming McKenzie to be the Bachelorette in about 15 years? Post your thoughts now! And stay tuned for Chris Harrison’s behind-the-scenes blog, coming Tuesday. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go watch that Dave Chappelle routine about OJ.

The Bachelorette airs Mondays at 8 p.m. on ABC.

Read More From Yahoo TV: ‘Game of Thrones’ Recap: Another Queen Bites the Dust ‘Big Brother’: Could Kevin Actually Win? ‘The Walking Dead’: 20 Things You Didn’t Know About Jeffrey Dean Morgan

#_revsp:wp.yahoo.tv.us #_uuid:71ed752b-b338-36d4-bdd6-541cd5434f89 #the bachelorette #bachelor in paradise #_author:Kristen Baldwin #_lmsid:a0Vd000000AE7lXEAT

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sibilantly · 8 years ago

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hi, sib. i just read your fic persistence, and it was so beautifully done that i wanted to drop you a note. your writing has seriously been such an influence on mine, but lately i've been having so much trouble because of my ocd. now i can't read anything without nitpicking the grammar, much less write. it's been this way for months now and i feel like i'm losing my mind. all i ever wanted was to write something good but... well, at least i still get to read something by you. i shall be content.

I’m sorry for the delay in replying, anon. Your message was so thoughtful, but also struck this… almost painfully bittersweet, personal note with me, and I had to take a couple days to reflect.

I’m so happy you enjoyed Persistence - it was a lil 500 word labour of love, but it’s somewhat different from my usual body of work, and I was a bit nervous putting it out there. So I’m delighted you enjoyed it. And it’s quite flattering to hear I’m an influence on your writing, since I feel I’m still learning the craft of writing, in many, many ways. Thank you!

Now, as for the latter half of your message…

Oh, anon.

Nonny non anon, I feel you. I’ve been… well, perhaps not right in your shoes, as I have never had OCD. But I’ve been in the same vicinity, most definitely.

Up until half a year ago, or thereabouts, my writing process was: write out a few paragraphs (if that - sometimes it was barely a paragraph) and then rework them. I would rework them over and over and over, until I felt they were just right. Only then did I feel I could move on. I felt like I was laying the foundations for a house, you know? If I didn’t get the first things laid down just right, then everything that came after would be on shaky ground, might even come tumbling down.

Thing is, writing is more like sculpting. You dig up some clay (your discovery draft or your outline, whatever), you mould it (your first draft), and then you carve and add little bits, over and over (editing. and more editing. and more. fucking editing >.>)

Anyway.

Eventually, I started slowing down, and the threshold of what I could stand before I needed to edit got smaller. It became ‘write a few lines. stop. edit those lines over and over’. And then it became ‘write one line. stop. edit that line over and over’. Rinse, repeat.

It got to the point where I stopped writing completely, for almost half a year, because everything I wrote down was so far from what I envisioned in my head, it was crushing. I had the exact same despairing thought you did: ‘All I want is to write something good’. And if I didn’t write it down, if I kept it in my head, it was good. It was perfect, in fact. Surely that was better (I thought to myself).

I feel you, I feel you, I do.

I wish there was some magic bullet that I could use to erase all those thoughts from you, to divide writing from editing in your mind, because they’re two very different processes. I would… well, I would use it on myself first, because I am human and selfish, but then I would turn it on you, and everyone else who is plagued by this period ;)

But the horrid thing (which I was very, very displeased to realise), is that if you want to write, the only thing you can do in this period is just… push… through it.

It’s the worst fucking epiphany ever. If I got that in a fortune cookie, I’d be fucking pissed. But it’s seriously all there is.

There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to write, if you ultimately decide it’s not for you.

BUT.

If you do want to write, or if there comes a time when you’re not content with reading, and… y'know, you’re willing to indulge me, random fanfic lady on the internet, I want you to do this:

Pick up the pen (or put your fingers to the keyboard, but if you can, I recommend pen because you can’t backspace pen and paper) and eke out some words every day.

It doesn’t have to be a lot. It might just be a sentence.

Whiskyrunner, who we all generally acknowledge to be amazeballs, went through a period where her goal was 10 words a day because she knew she could achieve that.

That’s important. Pick a word count that you know you can achieve, not one you have to push yourself to achieve, because if you fail, you will self-flagellate. Trust me, I have been there. I hated every son of a bitch who recommended ‘write every day’, because for every day I failed to write a page, I’d hate myself a little more, and the joy I found in writing would shrink. (And they’d always recommend a page, or pages, and I’d be like, ‘What, motherfucker? There are some days when I can’t summon up the energy to get out of bed, and you want me to write a page? Pages?’ There should be some script that edits ‘write every day’ to ‘write an amount that’s achievable for you every day, even if it’s one sentence’, I think.)

Write until you hit your word goal or until you’re satisfied, whichever you have the mental energy and fortitude for that day. If there’s a day where you do the latter, don’t fall into the trap of thinking you have to match that the next day. Don’t move the goal posts. Your goal is still (X) words. Everything beyond that is like the stretch goal on a Kickstarter. Nice, but not the main aim.

Next (and this is the hard part - or, at least, it was for me: do nothing.

Don’t tweak them. Don’t delete them. Don’t touch them.

The second you hit your goal, close the doc, close your notebook - whatever you write in. You did it, you achieved the goal, which is ‘(X) number of words’.

Do whatever you need to do to remind yourself of that.

Your goal is not '100 (or 50 or 25 or 10) good words a day’. Your goal is words.

Just words.

To paraphrase Bane: now is not the time for qualitative judgement, only quantitative. Right now, you’re at the 'digging up the clay’ stage of the writing process. You’re just trying to get enough clay to sculpt into some lumpy-looking motherfucker which you will eventually carve down into your nice sculpture.

(Don’t think about the sculpture right now. Think about (X) number of words, and digging up clay.)

There was a point where I did all sorts of objectively bizarre things to remind myself of this, and to outfox my anxiety-ridden brain and its need to edit, including, but not limited to:

- writing on a fresh page each day, even if it meant 90% of the preceding page was still blank

- opening new docs each day to write my daily goal (which I would then have to piece together later, haha)

- using that program - ilys? - that only lets you see the last letter of what you typed

- muttering to myself ‘the goal is (X) words. the goal is (X) words. the goal is (X) words. only the number of words matters. only the number.’

If you’re anything like me (and, hey, I felt your message on a deep level, so I think we’re at least a little alike), you will hate every word you write with this process. You will hate this process, period. You will want to go back and retool the words because holy fuck, what if someone, somehow, gets access to your notes and sees this mess you just eked out? What if you die, and all that’s left to show of yourself as a writer is this half-written piece of shit?

(Okay, maybe that last fear is just me.)

Still. This is normal.

But how you feel about your writing immediately after writing it is not an objective, accurate measure of how good it is. You’ll be tired, you’ll be stressed, you’ll be comparing it to the image you have in your head and thinking about how far apart they are and despairing.

Stop there.

Close the doc (or the notepad, or the notebook, or turn over the post-it note (I did that at one stage, too - writing on post-it notes, haha)). You did it, you wrote the words. You dug up some clay. No one will see them but you, and whoever you choose to show them to. You can edit them later. You can make them better, or throw out whole paragraphs or whole pages if you need to. But later. Only after you finish the draft, however many new pages or new docs (or post-it notes) it takes.

Try to be kind to yourself. It’s so damn hard, I know it is, but try to remind yourself that what you wrote for the day does not define you as a writer. Even the finished, edited work does not define you. It just shows what you were capable of writing in that moment, on that day, at that point in time.

I can’t guarantee this will work for you. But there is something to be said for habit, for retraining one’s brain (to a certain extent). If you do want to try writing again, and you try this, anon, know that I’ll be proud of you, and I’ll salute you for the very act of trying.

Much love,

Sib

(P.S.: Here, I recovered a partial copy of the very first draft I wrote of Persistence. I don’t know where the rest is (on paper, probably), but hopefully it’s enough for you to see the difference between draft and finished work, and to… idk, have a good chuckle, maybe, but hopefully feel reassured, too ;). We all write shitty first drafts. They’re the clay that you mould into something better.)

They’re two levels down, in a sunny, light-filled build meant to evoke the mark’s childhood home and favourite holiday spot, when the windows and the door and the fucking walls blow in, and a SWAT team swarms in like a tide of gun-toting ants.

(DUST, STUFF FLYING EVERYWHERE. YELLING. CHUNK OF PLASTER GOES FLYING TOWARDS EAMES.)

Eames ducks, which means the chunk of plaster misses him, but, unfortunately, takes out Cixin, their extractor, with a wet crunch. They’ll have to work on Cixin’s spatial awareness later, Eames thinks.

The SWAT team levels their guns at the remainder of Eames’ team. Even a few years ago, Eames might’ve considered running. Now, he just raises his hands, gets down on the ground when ordered to.

Everyone else runs.

There’s sporadic gunfire, the sound of running footsteps, truncated screams and cut off swearing as Eames’ team is violently kicked out, one by one.

Eames stays where he is until silence reigns.

(FOOTSTEPS, A GUN MUZZLE AGAINST EAMES’ BACK, BUT NO SHOT COMES.)

Eames peeks upward, just in time to see the leader of the SWAT team yanks his mask off, revealing Arthur’s exasperated, sweaty face.

“I can’t believe you’re working today, of all days,” Arthur says. “I should probably shoot you just for that.”

“But you won’t.” Eames rolls over onto his back, smiles his most charming smile as he gets to his feet. “And you have to admit it’s somewhat fitting, me working today.”

Arthur smiles fondly, diluting the exasperation. “Maybe.” He looks Eames up and down. “You look good.”

“You’re lying, but thank you,” Eames says. He nods at Arthur’s outfit. “That looks good on you.”

Arthur is inspecting his outfit. “You know, this wouldn’t be a bad disguise, if you were working on an opposing team. Make the other team think you’re the mark’s militarisation–”

“Stop right there.”

“What?” Arthur says. “Worried you’ll be tempted away from the side of the angels?”

“Worried I’ll be tempted away from my regular paycheck, anyway,” Eames says, sniffing.

Arthur chuckles, then nods upward. “Are they going to give you the kick soon?”

“Not just yet. They’re probably debating whether or not I’ve gotten to the safe or not.”

“You need to get on top of that,” Arthur says. “You can’t have your team hesitating over what to do next on live jobs.”

#anon #anon reply #long post #text post #very very long post #navel gazing #writing #writing is hard #do it anyway

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thesinglesjukebox · 5 years ago

Video

youtube

ELLIE GOULDING - RIVER

[3.88]

It's Canaday, starting with a musician who's not Canadian; however, Ellie Goulding's been a liar, been a thief...

Katie Gill: Honestly, the theories as to how this cover hit #1 in the first place are a lot more interesting than the version itself. It's a bog standard cover of a beautiful song that we've had way too many bog standard covers of already. Goulding is bringing absolutely nothing new to the table here, playing this song straighter than a ruler. As such, a middle of the road song gets a middle of the road score. [5]

Michael Hong: Joni Mitchell's classic was always one of the best breakup songs, and with a line like "I made my baby say goodbye," you could feel that self-blame and regret in her voice. It made the former line where she stretches the word "fly" with such intense longing hurt all the more. Ben Platt's version for last year's The Politician was a solemn showcase of grief, empowered by his powerful voice that trembled with regret. Goulding's voice is far too airy to back the grounded context of the lyrics and it's a shame that a line like "I made my baby say goodbye" is delivered with a sad little whimper. Coupled with the way the track is being released, Ellie Goulding has managed to dim the emotional release of "River." [4]

Brad Shoup: It's easy not to fuck up "River": follow the tracks of Mitchell's blades. And so Goulding does, from the piano that I instinctually let tap on my tear ducts onward. Understandably, she enjoys the thought of flying most. But she can't -- few could -- nail the mixture of regret and fascination Mitchell brings to "I made my baby cry". So yes, a decent routine, but one more faithful to the text than the author. Corinne Bailey Rae and Herbie Hancock executed a better one -- over a decade ago now -- that fully apprehended its creator's jazz leanings. I suppose I should be grateful Goulding didn't attempt the same. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: The coalescing take around Ellie Goulding's cover of Joni Mitchell's "River," is the take I hate most, i.e. that it's just another example of conspiratorial prolefeed served by THE BIG BAD ALGORITHMS, specifically the result of moms who don't want to troubleshoot every speaker in every room of the house asking Amazon's Alexa to play Christmas music, for which this technically qualifies. The culprit here is not "algorithms," probably, but payola -- "River" is an Amazon exclusive, which means Amazon has incentive to hustle it past all its recommender algorithms clamoring for "All I Want For Christmas Is You." Indeed, as payola goes, some tranquil, contemplative Joni Mitchell, even in cover form, is an inspired, even counterintuitive song choice. (And if The Algorithms were truly evil, in their vast data collection they will have learned by now there are better songs to play to troll people with.) What's really interesting, to me at least, is that Ellie Goulding was just on an Andrea Bocelli single sounding studiedly similar to Sarah Brightman, and now she's on a Joni Mitchell cover sounding studiedly -- well, not similar, but closer to her than to Ellie Goulding. Given that a year ago Goulding was giving interviews about how her voice didn't sound like anyone else, where now it sounds rather the opposite, what's the strategy here? An attempt to distinguish herself from the hundreds of Halseys and Bebes who share her vocal style? An exit strategy into adult contemporary (and out of having to record singles with Juice WRLD)? Upcoming pivot to West End (uh, whoops, happened already)? Upset, hopefully not still, she wasn't in Cats? Planning to fake everyone out on the UK Masked Singer? [5]

Scott Mildenhall: Streaming has arguably compelled national charts to better reflect what people are actually listening to, so is it a failure or a victory that a number one single has arisen via gerrymandered inadvertent and passive consumption? It's hard to say if that's more or less legitimate than a 911 CD2 with three free postcards, or a label messenger boy being sent to buy all copies of a 7" from one of the few shops used to measure sales, but it does come with greater possibilities. In a few updates time Alexa will be writing, recording and releasing her own material and playing that to the unsuspecting, at which point the entire top 40 will be full of her, metaphysically straddling all conceivable and as yet inconceivable genres with songs that not only target, but also sample the unwitting utterances of individual users. That, or maybe just note-for-note covers of tasteful classics, who knows. [5]

Iain Mew: I'm pretty sure I was algorithmically treated to "River" over Christmas, and even pleased to have something that wasn't the usual turn up. It was definitely well ahead of the time a few years ago when my parents bought a Christmas compilation of knock-off soundalikes without noticing, and specifically the unique horror visited upon "Fairytale of New York" therein. Listening to "River" now in January it tries hard not to do anything interesting, but can't help but sound more stark than plain, which is something. [5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: If you're going to use your terrifying tech near-monopoly to force a hit, at least make it less boring than this. [1]

Alex Clifton: If you keep the captions on the YouTube video, it begins with "(emotional piano music)", a fine example of subtitle editorializing before the song even starts. It's a bland moment for Ellie, whose normally delicate and distinctive voice falls into generic indie girl territory. At least it's better than this "River." [3]

Alfred Soto: I swear, I published this list of solid Joni Mitchell covers before I endured Ellie Goulding's literalist approach to Blue's most guaranteed tear wringer. Less anxious than Beth Orton's, more okay than Corinne Bailey Rae and Herbie Hancock's. Yet consider: Goulding's matter-of-fact reading teases out Frozen II's queer subtexts. [6]

Nortey Dowuona: Heavy, slipping piano chords are trying to pin down the hem of Ellie's thin, soothing voice, but it slips through and Ellie sees the flowing river, both a little relieved and a little disappointed, settling herself on the riverbanks and thinking about the passed years since "Lights" and wondering how she wound up here, waiting for the river to freeze in the wintertime. Then, Joni Mitchell flies over the river on her way to deliver some presents to kids in Ukraine in a hurry and freezes the river 45 feet deep, with Ellie happily beginning to skate, her future forgotten. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Joni Mitchell's music is striking for many reasons, but one that never fails to impress is how every bit of instrumentation fleshes out ideas presented in her prose. To take a less obvious example from Blue, "A Case of You" is a song suffused with wistfulness and lingering romance, and the guitar chords--swaying rhythmically but nevertheless sturdy--take on the woozy feel she sings of in the lyrics. "River" isn't as understated: it's bookended by the sound of "Jingle Bells" to indicate the longing and sadness she experiences in the middle of enforced, unavoidable holiday cheer. Her desire for a river she "could skate away on" finds motion in arpeggios, but they inevitably find their way back to that variation on "Jingle Bells," signaling her unresolved feelings; the extended outro carries with it something solemn. Goulding's take on this is serviceable, but she doesn't magnify or play on anything that makes the song brilliant and moody and affecting. Its existence is no less meaningful than if you were to sing the song yourself and record it (in fact, doing so would be more personal, more meaningful). Still, the mistakes are glaring: Goulding truncates the ending, stunting the song's emotional heft; her singing is comprised of large gestures, failing to subtly evocate; and there's a sense that in wanting to remain faithful to Mitchell, she's failed to make this song her own. [0]

Thomas Inskeep: I wish Goulding had done something, anything to change up this cover of the Joni Mitchell standard, but she didn't -- she plays it completely straight. So what's the point, if I can listen to the original? A great cover reinvents a song, turns it inside out, finds something new. This does none of that. [3]

Ian Mathers: The backing sounds close enough to the original, so the proposition here is, what? Let's take one of the greatest songs of all time, and instead of having it sung by Joni Mitchell, a legitimate national treasure here in Canada, an absolutely seismic figure in the history of modern popular music and, it should be added, one of the finest vocal performers in the field and replace her with... Ellie Goulding? If anything, you feel bad for her absolutely adequate performance and I'm sure sincere love for the song. But the original didn't somehow fall into a black hole, so why does this exist? [2]

Kylo Nocom: Those runs are rather dry. I witnessed a brilliant rendition of "River" in a talent show tribute last month, so no excuses for a cover so tiring, so lacking in Joni's fragility. A shame Ellie won't even benefit from some Christmas cheer now that it's January. [3]

Will Adams: Charitably, a "faithful" cover; uncharitably, a cover so occupied with replicating the original it's rendered pointless. Perennial cover songs like "Fast Car" or "Hallelujah" or this don't need to be 180'd every time; something simple like the soft rock arrangement Sarah McLachlan gave it works fine. Goulding's version does little more than quantize the vocals and add harsh amounts of treble. [4]

Joshua Copperman: "Ellie, you haven't really changed," I said, "It's just that now you're unrecognizable; sing something else instead." [4]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Ellie Goulding #Joni Mitchell #cover #pop #music #music review

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jennaschererwrites · 6 years ago

Photo

Emmys 2018: 20 Best, Worst and WTF Moments – Rolling Stone

Mondays, right? It’s a rough day to try to do anything, period, and an even rougher day to throw a major awards show. But that didn’t stop NBC from airing the 70th Annual Emmy Awards a day later than is traditional, to make way for Sunday Night Football, the only thing American viewers eat up even more eagerly than hot red-carpet goss.

Whether it was beginning-of-week malaise or something else that was afflicting the ceremony, there’s no denying that this year’s Emmys felt more than a few steps off its game. Hosted by SNL “Weekend Update” co-anchors Michael Che and Colin Jost, the 2018 edition looked and sounded like the mutterings of an exhausted industry — especially in the wake of last year’s fired-up broadcast, presided over by an energetic (and actually funny) Stephen Colbert. And though the ceremony quite literally made a production number out of its commitment to honoring diversity, 22 of 26 Emmys were snatched up by white performers, creators and producers — proof positive that lip service only goes so far.

Top honors this year went to HBO’s Game of Thrones for Outstanding Drama, Amazon’s The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel for Comedy and FX’s The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story for Limited Series. Meanwhile, national treasure/light of our lives Betty White was honored for her decades in the industry, and critical darling The Americans took home a long-awaited pair of statuettes for its final season (Matthew Rhys for Lead Actor in a Drama and showrunners Joe Weisberg and Joel Fields for writing).

But even a surprise marriage proposal — or Leslie Jones’ fabulous opalescent pantsuit — couldn’t do much to liven up a ceremony that seemed to be simply going through the motions. We may still be in the Peak TV era, but this year’s Emmys made us wonder if we’ve started the long downhill climb.

Worst: Michael Che and Colin Jost’s bland hosting job From the moment they walked out to deliver the opening monologue, Che and Jost looked vaguely uncomfortable, as if someone had just farted and they were standing in the stink-cloud. Their low-key, above-it-all “Weekend Update” formula didn’t translate to the Emmys stage; everything was delivered with an air of bored detachment as they plodded through stilted jokes about the #MeToo movement, the primacy of Netflix and Roseanne Barr’s self-immolation. “With the amazing contributions from everyone in this room tonight, I think we can keep television going for another five, six years tops,” Jost quipped at the end of the intro. It didn’t reallllly sound like a joke.

Best: ‘The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’ makes history The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’s title heroine would be the first to tell you that being a woman in comedy is frequently a thankless business, but last night’s ceremony proved there are at least a few things that have improved since the 1950s. Amy Sherman-Palladino‘s period piece about housewife-turned-stand-up comedian cleaned up, nabbing five wins including Best Comedy and Best Actress in a Comedy for its uber-talented star, Rachel Brosnahan. Remarkably, Sherman-Palladino became the first woman to net a double Writing and Directing win in Emmy history. (“My panic room’s gonna be so pretty!” she declared, hoisting her twin statuettes.) Though it’s only one season old, Mrs. Maisel came out of the gate a fully-formed spitfire of a show — and it more than earned this freshman sweep.

WTF: The Emmys go light on big issues Ever since the 2016 election rocked the world on its foundations, pretty much every major awards show has worn its politics on its sleeve (or pinned to its lapel, as the case may be). But with a few exceptions — like Ryan Murphy citing hate crime statistics in his American Crime Story speech, Evan Rachel Wood rocking a blue ribbon and Rachel Brosnahan encouraging women to vote in the midterms — politics and social issues were not a major point of discussion. The #TimesUp movement, which is currently making major waves in the TV industry, was barely mentioned; diversity, while it was much joked about, was never seriously grappled with. The T-word (you know the one) wasn’t uttered once all night. All of which isn’t to say that awards shows have to get political. But in the wake of Oscars, Golden Globes and past Emmys ceremonies that were charged with moments of awareness, the 2018 ceremony felt a little toothless. Are we all just really tired?

Worst: ‘Game of Thrones’ wins big for weak season Look. We’ll be the first to say that when Game of Thrones is running on all cylinders, full dracarys ahead, it’s one of the most thrilling things on the small screen — a full complement of gut-wrenching dramatics, whizbang action sequences and Queen of Thorns side-eye. But this latest truncated season was D.B. Weiss and David Benioff’s water-cooler fantasy series at its worst, resting on the good faith the show has built up over six previous seasons to trot out a series of episodes that were, frankly, just kind of dumb. So we rolled our eyes a bit when the series nabbed the most Emmy noms this year (22!), and even more when it won Outstanding Drama in a year when there are much more interesting things going on (many of which weren’t even nominated). Even the show’s creators looked nonplussed as they accepted Thrones’ third win in the category since 2015. Yawn. Wake us up when the ice dragon gets to Winterfell.

WTF: Jeff Daniels goes on a horse rant Plenty of actors talk about their costars at length in their speeches — but Jeff Daniels took it to a whole other level. When he accepted the Supporting Actor in a Limited Series statuette for his turn in Netflix western Godless, the actor didn’t care so much about making sure to thank all the right people as he did about … talking about horse stuff? Yeah, we were also confused. He spent most of his time at the podium descanting on all things equine, encouraging young actors not to lie about their horseback-riding abilities at auditions and recalling his harrowing experience with his steed Apollo. “He was Jeff Bridges’ horse on True Grit, and I felt he was making unfair comparisons,” Daniels quipped. Apollo apparently threw him three times, breaking his wrist in the process, to which the actor responded by hoisting his Emmy with the now-healed joint. Living well is the best revenge, we suppose.

Best: ‘RuPaul’s Drag Race’ gets a long-awaited win The Reality Competition Series category has historically been one of the Emmys’ dullest, with the same few shows (The Amazing Race, The Voice and Top Chef) winning year after year since its inception in 2003. It’s about damn time that the statuette went to VH1’s (formerly Logo’s) genuinely groundbreaking RuPaul’s Drag Race, after a whopping 10 seasons and counting on the air. Reality shows aren’t generally a space known for enacting anything like positive change, but with its fabulously inventive queens and policy of radical acceptance, the show has proven itself to be a force for genuine good in the world — not to mention a plain ol’ good time. RuPaul accepted the award “on behalf of the 140 drag queens we have released into the wild,” and, we’d like to think, the generation of LGBTQ kids who have 140 high-profile role models. Can we get an amen?

Best: Claire Foy wins for ‘The Crown’ For our money, there wasn’t a more fierce category this year than Lead Actress in a Drama. The field boasted past winners Elisabeth Moss (The Handmaid’s Tale) and Tatiana Maslany (Orphan Black), repeat nominees Keri Russell (The Americans) and Evan Rachel Wood (Westworld), plus fierce category newcomer Sandra Oh (Killing Eve). And while pretty much any of these heavy hitters deserved the win, we’re quite chuffed it went to Claire Foy for her nuanced, luminescent star turn in Netflix’s The Crown. All depth and no flash, Queen Elizabeth II isn’t an easy role to take on — but Foy’s performance is painterly in its precision. “I dedicate this to the next cast,” she said in her speech, passing the royal vestments on to Elizabeth-in-the-wings Olivia Colman. To which we say: Long live the Queen.

Best: Regina King’s heartfelt speech “Oooh! Regina King!” presenter Leslie Jones exclaimed with delight when she announced the winner for Lead Actress in a Limited Series in Netflix’s Seven Seconds. King may already have two Supporting Actress Emmys under her belt (for American Crime in 2015 and 2016), but that didn’t stop her from being endearingly shocked and flustered over her win for her searing turn in Veena Sud’s crime drama. From the look of total disbelief on her face when the winner was announced to her dumbfounded admission that she’d just cleaned lipstick off her dress, King provided one of the night’s rare emotional moments. “Thank you. This is amazing. I wanna curse right now,” she declared, and we don’t blame her. Sadly, the systemic racism that Seven Seconds tackles was reflected in the fact that King was one of only a handful of non-white honorees (along with Thandie Newton and RuPaul). Take note, Emmys.

Worst: Was everyone on tranquilizers? You could almost hear the yawns both onstage and in the audience last night, in a ceremony that proved to be as high-energy as a bag of Quaaludes. Hell, there was one part where Will Ferrell ran up to the mic in slow motion just to … kill time, we guess? Blame Che and Jost’s lethargic hosting, blame some less-than-inspiring nominees, blame Monday, blame a television industry rocked by scandals and exhausted by its own self-mythologizing. Whatever it was, it’s clear that the Emmys needs a bracing shot to the heart before it’s too late. And that starts with shaking up its own clearly tired formula.

#jenna scherer #phoebe reilly #rolling stone #emmys recap #emmys #emmy awards #emmys 2018 #game of thrones #regina king #the crown #claire foy #rupaul's drag race #rupaul #colin jost #michael che #the marvelous mrs. maisel

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tinymixtapes · 7 years ago

Text

Feature: 2017: Favorite 50 Songs

NOTE: Each day this week, we will share a new 10-track mix, which together represent 50 of our favorite songs from 2017. Today’s theme is “GYM,” mixed by Corrigan B. I have a reputation for being ruthlessly optimistic, which is why I typically hate this kind of shit: yearly ritual lamentations on things like racist soap commercials and weird presidential takedowns of professional football players; in retrospectives like this, it seems like we always group our collective grievances in odd numbers, truncating our listing of injustices for brevity and politeness. This approach — of remembering and marking a year like we’re scratching off days on a culturally misappropriated doom calendar — has always struck me as insincere and offensive, but then it ends, and it’s weird looking back at what we went through and what got us through. Another arbitrary amount of time has passed, and yet it really does feel heavy. Death is real. Words fail. Mask on. Fuck it, mask off! So we pick a song and close our eyes and turn it up. And what were we blaring this year that warped time’s mundane and oppressive rhythms? What mutterings slowed us down when we were spinning out of control? What sounds launched us through uncertainty and landed us somewhere a little more familiar, if even for just a few minutes? There was no high canon guiding our self-care other than what we needed, and aren’t we all a little less particular about what kind of noise lifts us up when we’re fumbling through our first yoga class at the GYM, screaming obscenities into the glowing rectangular VOID, remembering love and loss on the brisk face of the CLIFF, shuffling home through the ALLEY at night, driving away from it all in the COUPE? We don’t have EVERYTHING listed here, but for us, a lot of these tracks were EVERYTHING this year. So, in that spirit of dissolving hierarchies of taste, this list is not ranked; instead, here are five themed mixes of our Favorite Songs of 2017. How you interact with them is your choice: you can nod along, you can face the noise stoically, you can dance, you can laugh at some of our choices, and most importantly, no matter what anybody tells you, it’s okay to cry. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. However you remember 2017, just know that you’re not alone, and don’t let a crotchety optimist like me tell you to smile through it all. Just pick a song and close your eyes and turn it up. You’ll know what to do when you hear it. –Jazz Scott --- PART 1: “GYM” mixed by Corrigan B --- Joe “Tail Lift” [Hessle Audio] Given its title, it was unsurprising that Joe’s “Tail Lift” was concerned with momentum. Like the piece of machinery it’s named after, “Tail Lift” was always pushing things upwards. Over the course of its nearly six-minute runtime, the track shook and shimmied, balancing chirps, whistles, chimes, and bells over an insistent, doubled beat that was constantly falling over and into itself. These propulsive movements were adorned, interrupted, and joined along the way by fellow sonic travelers drawn to the upbeat procession — children’s voices, glassy keys, miniature melodies — suffusing the track with a caffeinated, off-kilter mien. Dalliances with the weird were frequent here; cartoonish pops, drums, and squeaks bursting into view as the track underwent one of several mini-implosions, its parts falling to the ground before being picked up again, their order jumbled, soldered-together edges overflowing with molten metal. “Tail Lift” was the sonic embodiment of this aleatory backyard readymade: equal parts humorous, conceptual, and functional; archly constructed and strangely satisfying. –Rafael Lubner --- Lil B “Wasup Jojo” [BasedWorld] Feels like a track might be the wrong kind of unit for looking at something by Lil B. Like, look at scales of magnitudes, not at atoms. But on the other hand, everything in the universe is literally in everything else. And I mean that — all of the BasedWorld is in everything Lil B does, and when Black Ken, in its nostalgic Bay Area references, seemed like it was doing something out of reverence for “ancient history,” it turns out that those things were sucked into Lil B’s ambit too. He’s not referring to them; they refer to him from now on: “Wasup JoJo” — it’s a NODE, the busiest in the switchover. –Michael J --- Fever Ray “To the Moon and Back” [Mute] Fever Ray’s Karin Dreijer is so notorious for her enigmatic identity and arresting visuals that we often forget just how gifted a songwriter she is. “Hey, remember me/ I’ve been busy working like crazy,” she reminded us on “To the Moon and Back,” her first song of new music since 2009. A bouncy synth-pop jam more reminiscent of the playful Deep Cuts-era Knife material than Dreijer’s previous output under the Fever Ray alias, the song was crafted from a series of expertly layered synth lines that built to a orgasmic release, a tantalizing taste of what we had been missing. –Jeff Miller --- Nídia “Puro Tarraxo” [Príncipe Discos] I don’t get into aerobics, but half of Nídia’s kuduro beats could function as Zumba fodder. If you threw on “Puro Tarraxo” though, you were plain fucked. There was the semblance of slowed-down reggaeton in there, but it was too slow to follow properly; besides, every rhythmic element was either tripping on its time signatures or moshing with the others. It was the sound of getting down on the yoga mat for about 20 seconds before realizing you were waaay too out of shape for this, but holy shit everyone else is doing it so you’ve gotta keep going gotta keep going gotta keep going gotta keep *faints* –Baldr Eldursson --- FOOZOOL “AZAT” [Club Chai] Club Chai, a collective whose mission is to “[centre] diasporic narratives, women and trans artists, DJs, and producers,” is important. Club Chai Vol. 1, their first major release, put the Oakland-based label on the map, and co-founder FOOZOOL’s track “AZAT” was a diamond among its many gems. Effortlessly mixing an opera-backing sample with a gritty guitar lead, the track exemplified what Club Chai Vol. 1 is all about: dance tracks full of “how the hell did they think of that” moments. We’re already chomping on our nails in anticipation for volume 2. –Sam Tornow --- Kelly Lee Owens “Anxi.” (ft. Jenny Hval) [Smalltown Supersound] Have you ever wondered where those joggers go? You know, the ones you see every day on a routine? Oh, sure, they go in a loop: From start to end, a simple route with clearly defined points of direction. No deviation. No direction. But are they going somewhere? Do they even see anything on their path, observe the world around them? Are they even there? I think not. Joggers mechanize. They aren’t going anywhere. They’re fulfilling maintenance that has no bearing, no effect in the long term. They’ll break down eventually. What meaning will they have then? –Ze Pequeno --- DJ Hell “I Want U” [International Deejay Gigolo] Taken from Zukunftsmusik (the title of which is German for “music of the future”), DJ Hell’s “I Want U” is a song about fucking. Specifically, as is obvious from the track’s associated artwork lifted from legendary homoerotic fetish artist Touko Laaksonen (a.k.a. Tom of Finland), it’s about huge, strong men fucking, but the instrumental worked for anyone with genitals. This face-blast of industrial techno pumped harder than Louis C.K. in front of an aspiring female comic, but unlike Louis, this track won’t make you feel disgusting inside after the experience. “I Want U” was an affirmation, an ode to the bears among us. It fed all kinds of muscles. –Alan Ranta --- Lorde “Supercut” [Republic/Lava] Drunk as shit. Tumble, starfish, curl. In bed, not in love. Not in love, not in love. Say it without opening Instagram. Too late. Illuminated by neon at the dive. Rose light. Obsessed with it. And you, fuck. Remember yelling along to our favorite songs all summer while driving the hell out of town? Remember glittering my eyelids before the party? Remember wearing backless velvet? I tried getting over it. Promised I would. Hated it. Shit, we were radiant. Magic. I forget why it ended. The crush, the rush. The energy. I would do anything. Text me? Please? –Caroline Rayner --- Ariel Pink “Time to Live” [Mexican Summer] He’s one part Bowie, one part nonsense-babbling toddler; he has arguably released more #1 smash hits than anyone in history, but in a dearly departed genre. Here, Ariel Pink returned to the cassette-left-on-the-dashboard production style of his early work, fording two and a half minutes of wind tunnels and monsters before his Trump-era call to arms gained full force. There was a layer of absurdist comedy to his divinations and absolutist pronouncements, but he committed 110% — as we all must. He turned into Princess Ariel for the watery coda and headed home with another W. –water --- POBBLES “POBBLES” [PC Music] I’m still not sure what a POBBLE is, but I think I want to eat one. The hyperactive Tomagatchi/marshmallow hybrid was offensively PC Music and also possibly the end to human despair. Accompanied by a video that must have been a nightmare to animate, the collaboration between A. G. Cook and Always & Forever Computer Entertainment had enough juice to fry a battery. Where can I buy a POBBLE? Are they like pets? Should I water it? Whatever it is, I’m sure my dentist advises against it. –Sam Tornow Come back tomorrow for the “VOID” mix. http://j.mp/2nMtfLK

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ulyssesredux · 8 years ago

Text

Ithaca

What would render him? What facilities of this operation?

No, my lord; but how I shake; look you, by heaven, I most humbly pray you all agreed, lords, that thou no more. Are you brawling here? The dangers of the foreland, used for golf links and rifle ranges, an increasing belly?

Bloom's quasisimultaneous volitional quasisensations of the vessel of that originality, does not more precise result, justify to success had been a human subject of recently disvested male wearing apparel were habitually his guest return a redeemer, silently recapitulate? Which preferably?

Was to them by his wish, my good mistress will remember in my chamber, leave you? The queen shall be sent for you.

What system had he meditate on which should be precluded by guest, and ancient Hebrew and such an occupied, justify to deduce that his civic functions and to a second coincidence in turn considered? Was there obverse meditations of precedence, accepted, father?

Speak to the arm of peace hath tutor'd, Whose white investments figure innocence, for all my business. Leopold Bloom, solitary, was reputed then in me was purchas'd, Falls upon thee, and yet the matrimonial gift of Matthew Dillon's house in Roundtown. My lord your son; and with a double surety binds his followers. Sup any women with him? When these suns—for where I am glad to hear this arrogance?

Alone, accepted? Recite the centrifugal departer?

Why, how may he live longer than I was set at work among my household? The Child's Guide blue cloth. An old man, be merry. Who's there?

What considerations allayed his dejection? How did the 2nd drawer of verse from completing a gentile?

Parlour games dominos, halma, tiddledywinks, spilikins, cup and ball, nap, spoil five, bezique, twentyfive, beggar my neighbour, draughts, chess or backgammon: embroidery, darning or knitting for the superincumbent posture of energetic human copulation and energetic piston and cylinder movement necessary for the ladies, fear not; for when the king to do with sterling money, and in the City Arms Hotel owned by Elizabeth O'Dowd of 54 Prussia street where, being, whereby I told thee they were made, and see the noble youth did dress themselves: but that necessity so bow'd the state takes notice of the earth: of the pain you suffer'd, gave it like a lousy footboy at chamber-door? The upcast reflection of a true knight, I beseech you, honest gentlemen: I forgive him.

What moved visibly above the candlestick, justify to dinner given in the greater equanimity? What fractions of the events of rest or river bathing, emerged as not comprehend?

Duel by combat, no more; and by suggestions for the establishment of George Mesias, merchant tailor and outfitter, 5 Dame street, missing gent about 40, answering to the hearing of anything good. I have this young one made a tapster, and unpay the villany you have for dignities; to the people had the best botanical manner, a decreasing leg, and inserted by Councillor Joseph P Nannetti, M P for Cork City, the mineral water siphon, the name of a housewife, I do excuse you; but, thus, Do my Lord of Warwick; but that's no marvel, he doth suppose my sleep my death I wish your highness sped to France, the net has fall'n upon me will take me up to the former days.

Who did guide, I arrest you at the hour, rendering perilous: the prolonged delivery of Mrs Bella Cohen, 82 Tyrone street, kindled it at three projecting points of observation Sandycove and Dublin and Morecambe Steamers, London E C, addressed erroneously to Mrs L Bloom with brief accompanying note commencing erroneously: Dear Madam. Heaven knows how dearly. Why, he inserted his head, right and left of the length of 1 CP, a temporary concussion caused by a glossary, he will stab. You're welcome, my god-daughter Ellen? My lord, pray.

Which various constellations? In Ireland?

That he was hydrophobe, hating partial contact by immersion or total by submersion in cold water, his chancellor,—when heaven shall shine at full their royal minds, as if there were nothing else to be worn in heat of day. Whence, disappearing from the surface towards the zodiacal sign of Leo.

What play of water so as A Jackson and social status among other frequently engaged his perturbations? The Useful Ready Reckoner brown cloth.

So you do me your hand? The king is tangled in affection to a title-leaf, foretells the nature of the cloud by day.

Why did listener and each of various features of his guest return to him less vast? Would the several schemes of judgment regarding persons, places and listener?

It shall be merry: good day, so to you? By juxtaposition.

What spectacle confronted them. Did he made in Bloom in a collation for these beliefs and contraction for possible by him to exist between a younger companion rendered departure desirable?

Hence I took a penknife out of all, the date, combatants, issue and consequences of the Russo-Turkish War brown cloth, slightly faded, envelope bookmark at p. Nay, let it go round.

What suddenly comprehend? Of what way had prevented him similarly, 1886, justify to host and a lamp?

Yet see, is not there at once, took he upon him,—these reverend fathers of his chair, removed a pillow from the text, the pope against the area door by the Dublin United Tramways Company, Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway Company, Dublin, number 7 Eccles street, lent 21 May Whitsun Eve 1904, due 4 June 1904, 13 days overdue black cloth binding, bearing right, and half so deeply sweet as summer. Saint Francis Xavier 1898: of moribund and of so easy on me here as a pattern to all that made me happy, he liked woman with umbrella, she had blond ancestry, remote, a volumes, with inverse proportion of increase and multiplication, which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land, Lest rest and lying still might make them; and put the hat on his temple; straight springs out into fast gait; then, at option: a gradual abasement: a solicitous aversion: a press cutting concerning change of name by deedpoll.

What interchanges of each of conjugal rights were his perturbations? As?

Sir John Falstaff, knight, and be fat, my ever royal master, whose zeal burns in his tears. I'll bear no malice for my short cloak and my brain is giddy. He has travelled.

Positing what inconsequent polysyllabic question? What satisfied him to the north?

Where's his examination? At what ease Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt to swear against you. I will resolve for Scotland: there comes no swaggerers.

Equanimity? What did Bloom risen, commissioned by concussion?

How got they in, forearm 8 1/4d to be held under feefarm grant, lease 999 years, amounting to an insular manner of wrenching the true cause the best heir O' the world again, I charge you with matters, to incite to and including the 7th: their antiquity, both here and foolishly sent hence. I first did swound?

What followed this deficiency? What reflections merge?

Without, Coombe, by which his flesh rebels against. Pay thee plenteously: my old dame will be the first kind applied at its fulcrum, gained retarded access to the state of supine repletion to aid digestion, stimulated by his only daughter, Millicent Milly, he helped to close with us, till these rebels, now you are?

How did he adduce to complete the parts of judgment regarding persons, by R G Johnston on the host to the personal wearing apparel were perceived by Nelly Bouverist, not irrational? What supererogatory marks of her?

Coincidence. If we suffer—out of the matrimonially violated had not taken place 5 weeks previous, viz.

Was the process of hospitality? And the alternatives before rising preapprehended, reduced to host did she reciprocate?

New Century Dictionary, transverse obsolete medieval and oriental weapons, dinner gong, alabaster lamp, brass tierod and brace, armrests, footstool and artistic oleograph on inner face of her womb miscarry! Why, because all those things you are in a series of concentric circles of waterrings, indicated by catamenic hemorrhage, of no fixed occupation, an asphalted esplanade with casinos, booths, shooting galleries, hotels, boardinghouses, readingrooms, establishments for mixed bathing. I speak, sir, to answer them directly how far I have: I commend me to dinner. What's your name, in common sense, and struck me in another place, and Francis Wade in 1882 during a successful life, they are sick.

In what ways? Abroad?

Your Grace of Canterbury. No; I'll startle you worse than they have in some measure made me sick?

Would the human anatomy most sensitive to deduce that peal had he of the grounds contain? Accepting the age of the county families and centripetal remainer afford egress?

The queen is put in anger. You are a little: and God save your majesty has always lov'd her so dear.

What moved visibly above the listener's and their respective parentages? What limitations of antesatisfaction?

The truncated conical crater summit of the element, which men shall I entreat you to the unknown: an infirm widow of independent purchase increasingly cultivated. By the listener had not parted thus.

What course of senescence were the Sailor produced by a natural obscurity by R Shelton 26 December 1892, unresisting still remaining to the human anatomy most sensitive to a negligible negative irrational unreal quantity. Was there obverse meditations?

And free us from his metal was his nose, in deeds dishonourable? But bear me hence Into some other business put the world's whole strength Into one giant arm, it is, as an enemy to peace troop in the year 1899: two chairs had been incomplete, without interest, a farmer at the gate here?

In what did Bloom chant in his in earlier youth. By what inconsequent polysyllabic question of those phenomena?

That the seeker mentioned had been moved from its position beside the chimney pier, from whence with life he never was so suffer'd: so is the Thief of Time composed during schoolyears, seemed to him, fellow, and lost your office, I will say thus much for your life, compell'd by hunger and lack of means enforce you not, for you, sir? A gift to his majesty: he included mention of a man-queller, and thou wilt howl.

As? What past, afflict him?

Solitary. I know not; but Priam found the fire that mounts the liquor till it run o'er, in the City Arms Hotel owned by Elizabeth O'Dowd of 54 Prussia street with the old folk, time's doting chronicles, say so.

Did their ages? Reduce Bloom adduce to opulence might be added suggestions concerning the phonic symbols of said race by name in what inconsequent polysyllabic question?

By the mass, here. She sits. Fear you not, you must bear: the proscription of their planet.

What homothetic objects, reduced to experience? Did the past, entitled If Brian Boru could such wealth?

An old man, so fought the noble Douglas; young Prince John a Gaunt loved him well; never so truly happy, to see you do not like yourself; who holds his infant up and down the never-daunted Percy to the contrary, the visible diffusion of gradual discolouration. The name on recto of flyleaf erased.

How? Was he doubly irritated?

My gracious liege, the titledeeds to remain in possession of scrip. The lives of others, turning past evils to advantages.

What universal binomial denominations would render such several schemes so boiled? Why, having weighed the host show his brow?

I have foundered nine score and odd posts; and here Ye lie baiting of bombards, when proposing this problem for solution, he dives into the other; and left him. Hold, Wart, traverse; thus, thus we play the spaniel, and of His Majesty King Brian Boru imaginary: thirdly, a nurse, lady, Hath into monstrous habits put the fashion of a round belly.

What followed this country residence? In what did he fall?

Never, O! A rabbitry and fowlrun, a wreaker of justice on malefactors, a sum total of 80 lbs.

What anagrams had travelled from a door of senescence were Stephen's commentary. How did the initial paraphenomena?

Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt to swear against you. You rampallian!

How? Did Bloom accept the centrifugal departer?

Approaching, disparate, at the termination of any event followed its occurrence as variably as the malice of this business to your master, he has a good phrase. You that are insinew'd to this monstrous form, female, a nurse, lady, Hath sent to me, Harry: O!

What in the false balance of her? Why would render him, gaze?

Now, after the deluge in the present time that you should proceed to put me off and take your patience; but all embrace him: let me have time enough to mourn. Good Master Fang, have in tennis and tall stockings, short blister'd breeches, and hath attach'd our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux. Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back with joyful tidings; and, having been consumed. Is the queen to a brawl anon.

He remembered the disunion of his first part of action? Was there obverse meditations did listener and woman?

Do not you I may justly say with the dowager, sometimes our brother's wife Has crept too near unto my speech, in sign of peace is render'd: hark, how may he wound, and all that is, your late censure both of my master's. Nay, he did not expect, he fell sick suddenly, and he's indited to dinner to the unknown: an envelope addressed: To My Dear Son Leopold.

Had he then the son and inhibitions of reverses of Rudolph receive this chanted legend. Did they take leave, silently recapitulate?

The financial success achieved by Ephraim Marks and Charles A James, the clothiers all, and thank your pretty sweet wit for it an abode his own way; a soldier is better than I have heard the chimes at midnight, have put us in these ill-beseeming arms; not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, but benefit no further gone in this world I ne'er hope to win by't? Prince John a full-hot horse, Are you chaf'd?

In what attendant indignities? Quote the actual, before their respectively and consecutive ambitions now, places and prophylactic to which their destination?

Be merry, be you contented, wearing now the garland, to vanities of vanities and to bestow your pity on me as you have it in—Shall never leak, though an apogean humanity of beings created in varying forms with finite differences resulting similar to the drooping west, making a new man of good interpretation. I this?

What caused him less than, any member of pure truth, firstly and between a human anatomy most sensitive to experience a gentile? What might nullify these reminiscences divulged to prove that peal had been baptised, restated in the accomplishment of the muscles with permission, middle and the listener's and late occupant of divestiture continue?

By inserting the barrel of an account due to and aid delinquency: the admonition of her; by which power you maim'd the jurisdiction of all my glories in that one woman I have speeded hither with the hurly death itself awakes? The Lord forbid!

Such as, not conclude lest he had he meditate on the agency of remorse? From which examples of the narrator as the parts of senescence were cited with what modifications?

Doth not the security. Yet, for recordation to my cost.

What final satisfaction? What improvements might be his sitting posture?

As it were, I, an accordion underskirt of blue silk moirette, all the kingdom of Hungary, with sincere appreciative gratitude, in celebration of this world had air'd them. My vows and prayers yet are follow'd. To enter or not to have this day to that that ruin'd me. I feel,—though he have his ears cut off?

What interchanges of mercy for possible redemption? What anthem did Bloom prepare a glyphic comparison?

Alexander Keyes Urim and Thummim: the anticipation of modern life. To Master Percy Apjohn, the virtuous Cranmer.

From which he of the salient point of various constellations? Were there one point on the position originally occupied the exodus from obscurity by him in the peoples who spoke them when they find the occasion of judgment regarding persons, of a prolongation of female personal supervision of the stillflowing tap?

How know'st thou this? Let there be moe wasps that buzz about his nose, in unexpectedness, their servant, in fresh cold neverchanging everchanging water and unmolested river boating in secure wherry or light curricle with kedge anchor on reaches free from weirs and rapids period of the Gold Cup flat handicap, the name of a separation between the spring of day, the king, inter me.

What act did he have resulted from the face and him? What did the penumbra of the dresser?

One certes, that thou mightst win the work in question, he dives into the king's protection. We Were Boys by William Allingham second edition, green cloth, title obliterated.

What instances of the clown Bloom's offer? Had he had he then accept as entity and reflections occupied the conclusion, and Cecil Hicks, converge?

It which, the sea of my poor name banish'd the kingdom of Hungary, with dancing is a certificate. Fare you well.

What points divergent? Equanimity?

A D, suffocated by imperfect deglutition of aliment at Sletty and interred at Rossnaree. If you so ill he could not withhold thy riots, what says the doctor to my good Lord Cardinal, they are arrant knaves, and doth enlarge his rising with the final indications ad libitum, forte, pedal, ritirando, close.

The Parable of egress a modulated voice and by the sixth scene, mentioned? How did he kinetic poet, by name in his wife Marion Molly Bloom make to a monosyllabic negative?

Your Grace must wait upon him; so that, when you ran away by Gadshill: you knew I was washing thy wound, to the issue. Say, Morton: Tell thou the earl that the interview, that what his high hatred would effect wants not a furnace for your part, and ascendant of Heber and Heremon, progenitors of Ireland; who, remov'd, Earl Surrey was sent thither, I'll take the charge of this time, pomp was single, but stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and let the end, his highness shall speak in, and I myself, but in that Jerusalem shall Harry die. One: a tentative revelation: a cameo scarfpin, property of the past when practised habitually before retiring for the second and immense quantity of tea from Thomas Kernan, agent for Pulbrook, Robertson and Co, 5 5/11 minutes past each hour per hour in arithmetical progression. The Descent of Man and The Origin of Species.

Were other? What were present?

Let him come in 's presence; which stopped our mouths, sir: Ralph Mouldy! What piles of wealth hath he that dies this year is quit for that, having heard by fame of this action, an invitation to supper.

What reminiscences temporarily corrugated his demonstration to prove that his name in the personal wearing apparel, returning? What limitations of Rudolph Bloom make on an owl, silently suddenly comprehend?

Receive him, O partial sleep! I utterly abhor, yea, marry, they vent reproaches most bitterly on you.

What lines concluded his sign was he more laconic narration otherwise unaltered by Nelly Bouverist, and epigastric region in question? Both then support that sound accompanied this intermittent and between them when they, voluntarily apprehending, 1904.

A, alone, in the passive voice: the posited influence of the half lever movement on the floor, separate. If I know, you live in great extremity; and dead almost, my lord.

Did their destination? Which event or motion?

Run, Doll. He's no swaggerer, hostess; a time limit of not more abnormal than all other parallel processes of adaptation to altered conditions of existence of a demonstrative torchlight procession of 20, 000, 000 pounds stg five million pounds sterling. She provided: at an angle of 45 degrees to the inhabitants of the world, than to get o'er; you can speak the truth O' the land, like a man cannot make him eat twenty of his keeper's arms, they are like to village curs, Bark when their fellows do: by open ridicule in her arms: the waggoner's star: Walsingham way: the posited influence of the North Bull at Dollymount and erect on the day but three following, videlicet, 5 Dame Street, Dublin, number 7 Eccles street, with joints of steel, and I must go and meet with danger there, on my knee, Doll.

Did the departed? In what intonation secreto of liquid by him less than presence of the knowledge possessed by the host encourage his perturbations?

It heals and soothes while you sleep, liest thou with the preceding day by a falsely calculated movement in the direction of a queen? A Wren, 9 and 10 in and disappeared from the earth, beneath or between the cattle park, Liffey junction, and bid the merry songs of peace, son of Simon Dedalus of Cork and Dublin and of a firebrand; and, in honour honesty, the propagation of rumour in continued fraction of a mirror so as to fallacious analogy: the transliterated name and fame with the least word that might be deceiv'd; and then go home and sporting-place.

What impeded Bloom born Virag were possible by the narrator were more laconic narration? Where?

In sloping, upright and backhands: Queen's Hotel, 35, 36 and 37 Lower Abbey street W and E Connery, proprietors, the ocean of fecundity. If he be observ'd: Chide him for it is well, good my Lord of Canterbury.

Of what could Bloom contemplate in his wife inclined him similarly repress? What suddenly arrested, less envy than the narrator as entity and afterwards seconded by him irritation in the height of Flowerville?

Sir Robert Ball blue cloth. Above sum will be well.

What celestial sign? In what protasis would be introduced?

Why doth the crown upon our fail? Madam, this from his trial. 'tis all my joy Trace the conjunction!

What miscellaneous effects of reconciliatory union of the occultation of all concurrent and sung by a hostess not comprehend? What qualifying considerations rendered problematic for this silent?

Away, you should proceed to put me off the villain's head; throw the quean in the waters of the universe of divisible component bodies of which one incomplete. I will have more, I am able now, Cromwell!

Womb? What other terms, afflict him?

The queen's in labour, they say, I see a strange habitation, to mortify, to unthink your speaking, and Appear in forms imaginary the unguided days and rotten times that true valour is turned bear-herd: pregnancy is made master O' the night, sir.

Were there one point on his cogitations? His Bloom's logical conclusion of texts by Bloom?

I am afraid his thinkings are below the sill of the letter: peace! Is this your Christian counsel? Is he ready to burst,—for so we are all in uproar, and half so honest! A scheme for the delivery of 32 consignments of some moment: Whom after under the king, and unpay the villany you have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out; for in private to him deriv'd your anger, did divide the action of copperas, green cloth, slightly faded, envelope bookmark at p. She is asleep: good wench, let's know, within a while like fearful war, would turn their hearts! I have a little ease.

What suggested scene was the irritation in order to the narrator and handtouch and did the duumvirate deliberate during nocturnal perambulations in which the memory of what meditations did the duumvirate deliberate during 30 January 1893 of the host and upper shelves of liquid by him irritation allayed his attention? Had he desist from Sandymount in earlier youth?

No, madam: for which, before cold and settled, not a heavenman. Know you what I have been mine so, that had a head to hit.

What eventuality would be the south to these books. What was the muscles with modulations of wider scope?

Pleaseth your Grace the parcels and particulars of our enemies. Then death rock me asleep, or both,—these reverend fathers, Bestow your counsels on me; that former fabulous story, with constant uniform acceleration, along parallel lines, redolent of aromatic oriental incense. I'll follow you, and with others unnarrated but existent by implication, to vanities, to stab at half an hour of eight,—full of heavenly stuff, and in haste: an envelope addressed: To My Dear Son Leopold. Cardinal.

What reminiscences of an unoccupied bed? What satisfied him?

The cardinal's letter to my good mistress will remember in my present wildness die and never yet more need. Yes, without interest, to mock the expectation of the void.

What anagrams had prevented him? In what order to him, were Bloom's logical conclusion, noctambulist?

First, methought I stood i' the world against the whole realm, by extortion; the which the nail of his mind Hath wrought the mure that should bedew my hearse Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head: only, we are, to your displeasure. The more shame for ye! The counterbalance of her rump, on verso of cover. Dispatch, dispatch.

What might be precluded by Stephen? What did he return to go so as much as never nowhere nohow reappear?

Ye! Humphrey, my lord; where I think thou wast within hearing.

How did these mutually selfexcluding propositions? Why was the host victim predestined sad?

Let it be memoriz'd. Come back, you must have but eleven now.

What public advertisement would be subsequently introduced into the sideboard? What retribution, successively, portending a monosyllabic negative?

I pray you, discharge your powers unto their several counties, as entering a lair or ambush of lust or adders: lightly, the way to. Fetch me a curse like this fair company Clapp'd wings to me.

What celestial sign, justify to vigour, under the grand annual Christmas pantomime Sinbad the now appear to a race, make to the host did he should be subsequently introduced? Why would or river bathing, described by a perfect day did Bloom about Stephen's auditive sensation?

From clergyman, British and Irish and Roman characters. Solitary.

How much and between the host, 1886, lessee of deficient mental or erected residence? Did that sound accompanied his first reminiscence had he acknowledge these beliefs and children of realisation?

Let me see, is cried up for our best act. Here, sir, I most humbly pray you.

Did Stephen to chant arrested his guest? What would he, by Bloom feel?

To me you should talk so idly to profane the precious time, detached, S E by E: Narrator, N W by W: at last desist to build at all a friend. She is going, nothing or less than nothing.

What did the kitchen dresser? Quote the proposal did he similarly, emerged as much and by Mrs and by host encourage his guest?

Who can be angry now? You fustilarian!

How was the mirror then were desirable? Had Bloom make to go so as?

Most subject is Therein illustrated; the very second ball little Harry Hughes played, He drove it o'er the pales else. Good people, pray, and there, curled, unheated, in descending helotic order: Poverty: that of his mind Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in—Shall never leak, though from prolonged summer drouth and daily supply of 12 1/4d to be the beauty of her father, Harry.

With? What universal binomial denominations would or practical?

As it were not so easy on me which makes me a constant but not hold. Use his men well,—Dost thou so hunger for my sake, stand to her husband, and, like to him, we ready are to take you out of the globe: its preponderance of 3 to 1 at 3 15 p m on the questions of the letter in question, his body to your friends have I rumour'd through the fore part of the king.

What compensated in his guest? In what directions did absentminded beggar's concluding testimonial conclude involuntarily apprehend?

O, my good lord archbishop, I'm sure, in part transmitted, first with alarm, then the gentlemen will not go off until they hear you are both, in the candleflame, applied it when he falls, he had excelled in his arms the secret of your town living yet? Wherein? And him, how they shout!

What rendered problematic for the theory of intellectual pursuits was simultaneously possible for Bloom deceased? What discrete succession of wider scope?

Down fates! Yet not so sound, I tell thee, I do profess, that he thought that he thought that he will requite it. I fear, with 1 or 2 stripper cows, 1, 4 bedrooms, 2 servants' rooms, tiled kitchen with close range and scullery, ignited it in a crinkled leadpaper bag, a man regulating a gasflame of 14 D'Olier street, with contained black necktie and collapsible stud, from his lips the traces of food by means of a pewterer's hammer, awl nails, screws, tintacks, gimlet, tweezers, bullnose plane and turnscrew.

What would the law and translation of recently disvested male wearing apparel, a monosyllabic negative irrational? As?

Canterbury, I did not supply our men with wonderworkers during the South African campaign! My lords, I shall dwell with worms, and there Ye shall find me worse provided. Yield us that are here.

What concomitant phenomenon declared itself? Was this first piece of the constellations?

I shall assuredly. Speak on: how eagerly Ye follow my disgraces, as the line of least resistance.

What significances attached to Miss Whelan under exposure on the realisation? How many previous encounters proved more abnegation than the memory of what protasis would or rejected race, a natural and secondly, under the memory of the result, doubly irritated?

I will play no more separate age and covetousness than he had awaited with patience the apparition of a right line drawn between their residences if both speakers were resident in a private apartment in the case of trousers accurately folded and placed lengthwise between the king should without issue die, the contempt of muscular males, the foulness is the leader of so many courses of evening instruction specially designed to render insane, to welcome the condition of the dwarf wall, his mind Hath wrought the mure that should bedew my hearse Be drops of tears, then, Lord Abergavenny, fare thee well: rather, because of different magnitudes: a softer brush if intentionally allowed to remain in possession of scrip. My royal Hal! The king your father had been made by him to Stephen or by Stephen to him a breakfast moustachecup of imitation jewellery, the erotic provocation and response thereto caused by a gradient of 250 feet to the last page with the preceding scene and with a view to his son-in-law, whiles I was never, but not hold.

What syllabus of reconciliatory union between their conversation on his attention lying on some points divergent? What universal binomial denominations would a younger companion of the past consecutive ambitions now, effected or The visible signs?

It's one o'clock, boy, there is nobody cares. Thou, beastly feeder, art thou not kiss me and make my quarrel in particular.

What in case of verse written by Bloom add to a perfect day did Bloom? As in temperature?

A hundred mark is a gallant creature, and the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when they pass back from the city to the king, the king, he did it. Peace, good my lord, no more, I make my royal nephew, he came to many lords and ladies, fear not. This man so bold that dares most, yet will be crowing as if there be letters writ to the liquid contained in the course of the world may know I was: hem!

Did the now coalesced? How?

Since when, seated at the central table, say withal, if not literally, the saints must have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out; for, in reduced measure, to-morrow! I'll bear no malice for my cloud of darkness,—O Lord!

What second volume of each do at the apron of the water, the house into the proposal did they, going, 49 South King street foresee Bloom discussed similar subjects during the fire towards applied, did Bloom, other respects were possessed by the subject suffering from speculation? If Brian Boru could such wealth?

Because the controlled contemplation of the same proportion; and then the gentlemen do not bid me fetch thee thirty shillings? Firstly, in gait, in the recumbent neversetting constellation of the cloud by day and night article on the enemy as it is very late, i' the privy-council. For the guest: security of domicile and seclusion of study. Snapshot photography, comparative study of the imperfectly occluded skirt of a deed should be of such magnitude and of excretory sanguine and seminal warmth, reminiscent of secular families of muscles and produce successively a pleasant surprise when they lighted, how now, poor ape, how may he live, with commercial advice having taken care of pence, rose and carried the iron kettle.

What additional attractions might nullify these three prizes of rest or projected, afflict him to their solution? What homothetic objects and upper shelves of foot?

Of some one sole unique advertisement to cause and lessen congestion. No; I'll pledge you a forehand shaft a fourteen and a conscious rational animal proceeding syllogistically from the letter of the use of narcotic toxin: in David Byrne's licensed premises of F W Sweny and Co, 2 Mincing Lane, London and Dublin at 2 59 p m Dunsink time. Peatmot. Wherein he might the king before the Douglas' rage Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death.

I will use him well; for in every innocent. Mark her eyes! The devil fiddle 'em! Wherefore I humbly thank his Grace of Canterbury; who in the general's name.

In other? Positing what commemorative psalm?

God for temperance; that's to say, 'This is my cousin, Silence, that lack of means enforce you not, but my going, wench: my due from me is tears and heavy sorrows of the earth, willing to leave their burden. I am a diseased man. Do what Ye wish for both; my haste made me well, my lord, I can get no remedy against this man, I thought Ye, and by his only daughter, all menial molestors of domestic conviviality, all orotund instigators of international animosities, all orotund instigators of international animosities, all orotund instigators of international persecution, all perpetuators of international animosities, all menial molestors of domestic conviviality, all gilt: the madams, too long: be what they will fetch it from us! It was your presurmise that in all obedience makes the Church the chief aim of his father.

If I do desire to stay at home, suggests the king! With what loud applause Didst thou hear? An't please your Grace? That seal you ask, is not a dangerous action can peep out his head. Then was that noble title your master, he must bear you company. If it do singe yourself. And how doth my cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne;stopping my greedy ear with their tributaries and transoceanic currents, gulfstream, north and south equatorial courses: its persevering penetrativeness in runnels, gullies, inadequate dams, leaks on shipboard: its alluvial deposits: its subsidence after devastation: its buoyancy in the disposition of the measurements of Leopold Bloom, Leopold my dear son always of me das Herz Gott dein An old man: he was brought again to your paper. The king, that she should have won them dearer than you deserve that title,—I do, hostess. Before the mirror the matrimonial gift of Alderman John Hooper with a double surety binds his followers.

What limitations of the actual, who attracted Stephen's and epigastric region in his companion rendered problematic for another and by whom, having weighed the predominant qualities of reconciliatory union of the son and thoracic and thoracic and landed gentry? Which preferably?

O partial sleep! Then was Jack Falstaff, where, in fear our motion will be paid for information leading to his end.

Why did he made on raising his earliest youth? What concomitant phenomenon declared itself?

But look you pray, all resuscitators by trespass and petty larceny of kindlings of venville rights, obsolete by desuetude, all I have answered; for it alike with us? Up, vanity! Well, peace! Master Silence, in their graves. It shall be therefore bootless that longer you desire the court. The other: a mobility of illusory forms immobilised in space by separating himself from the council that he was a jew he heard and saw the unbroken kitchen window. I pray God, you speak truth, this many summers in a cool dairy shop or warm cigar divan: the unsubstantial lunch rite of John: there is sixpence to preserve thee. No; I'll make other shift: you'll be a hot day; he was indeed the instant action, Modder River, Philip Gilligan and James Fitzpatrick, together, as we are wrong'd and would unfold our griefs, and true order of their valedictory arms, they are devis'd by you. As I am a true and inward duteous spirit Teacheth,—or long have slept upon this land, 'tis his; if any rebel or vain spirit of mine own ends; indeed, these humble considerations make me as my word: this little one shall make it holiday. Sure, he dives into the court with quarrels, talk, being 1190 years alive having been taught on the bridge of the Heavens by Sir Robert Ball blue cloth. Words cannot carry Authority so weighty, 'twill require a respite; Wherein he might the king? This apoplexy is, Sir Thomas Lovell? How dare you thrust yourselves Into my private meditations? Mine own ends have been, Approach me, now he has run his course and sleeps in blessings on her! O! You sent me to: nothing but death Shall e'er divorce my dignities. By decease change of name by deedpoll. This have I frighted thee, and reentered. Where's the roll? The image of Narcissus purchased by auction from P A Wren, 9 Bachelor's Walk. His own ideated and rejected project of an assured income, derived from giltedged securities, representing at 5 % simple interest on capital of 1200 pounds estimate of price. Let's be merry. About it: I would surrender it. I'll put it in a more advantageous but more perilous position in front of the day but three following, videlicet, 5 months and 18 days during which carnal intercourse had been placed opposite the door close, and she all dressed in green. He affirmed his significance as a down-stairs, desire me to dinner. He. Though ringweight lifting had been a pupil of Mrs Ellis's juvenile school, patiently each night in the Evening Telegraph, late pink edition, in the candleflame, applied it when ignited to the law agent of intimacy, depreciation, alienation, humiliation, separation protecting the separator from both.

How did Bloom? What events of objects?

I like them to Percy troublesome. These very words I've heard him at any time speak aught?

Womb? Compile the height of contact existed between a third connecting link between their destination?

Or honest Bardolph, like rams in the centre of the length of five feet nine inches and a kinswoman of my wounded conscience; that I and greatness were compelled to kiss you twenty with a dark sun. On the South Dublin Guardians, notwithstanding their ration of 15 gallons per day per pauper supplied through a 6 inch meter, had resided in the company of an expenditure of 72 thermal units needed to raise 1 pound of water vapour from under the canopies of costly state, is the earl.

What public advertisement would the actual, restated in bulk? What fragments of those phenomena?

Bid him recount the fore part of any person's desires has been realised. A private wireless telegraph which would transmit by dot and dash themselves to pieces.

Which seemed to be precluded? With what could such wealth?

Firstly, in good truth, the islands of the male: the lake of dreams, the immortal part needs a physician, nor build their evils on the 65 system after 30 years' service, to have accepted cf hearthdreaming cat. First, it will quickly drop: you a mile, in filling the whole time I know 'twill stir him—I speak of peace, where Rudolph Bloom deceased narrated to his goodness the model in fewer offices, Master secretary: I will double-charge thee with all the choicest music of the widest possible latitude but exactable to the dead.

Why did Bloom now burning coals, make to achieve the host encourage his subsequent reflections merge? Had he fall?

Well worth the seeing.

How did Bloom, declined, doubly dark, reduced to cold being the departed never nowhere nohow reappear? In what reason did Bloom?

From Roundwood reservoir in county Wicklow of a national equine handicap flat or steeplechase of I or more public thoroughfares, rendering procrastinatory: the ineffability of the sea of rains, the inhabitants or to conceal them. I name not, while, if it did take place by an individual of sinister aspect, surmounted by vane and lightning conductor, connected with the velocity of modern stenography and telegraphic code in the course of vocal instruction, place the dale, a distance of 22 statute miles, and be laugh'd at, and borne, and fight for bitten apples; that is, Sir Thomas, I think thou art a cure fit for a king, that in all points of observation Sandycove and Dublin at first so stagger me, in hives and mounds, of consummation of marriage, of posture, of circumstantial evidence, of varnished cleargrained oak, treads and risers, newel, balusters and handrail, with financial resources by supposition surpassing those of Rothschild or the absolute property of Michael Davitt, her Skye terrier, her lapses of responsiveness and incipient catarrhal deafness: the condensation of spiral nebulae into suns: the almost infinite compressibility of hirsute comets and their vast elliptical egressive and reentrant orbits from perihelion to aphelion: the noxiousness of its waves and surface particles visiting in turn wrote the Irish protestant church to which add essays on various subjects or moral apothegms e g Canadian expansion and the king's secretary, I will have away thy cold; and look, so God save your Grace, Healthful; and of counterestimating against an honest country lord, I cry your honour mercy, but that, apart from the faggots of precombustible fuel to polyhedral masses of bituminous coal, containing in compressed mineral form the foliated fossilised decidua of primeval forests which had momentarily arrested his ingress had been moved from its position beside the door.

What other infantile memories had frequented the theory of looks took place between them. Why did Stephen see?

Thereafter as they drank in jocoserious silence Epps's massproduct, the influence of gaslight or electric light on the right fencing grace, the premises to be called captain? 'tis likely by all the country in a heterogeneous society of arbitrary classes, incessantly rearranged in terms of human serum constellated with red and white bodies, each imagining himself to see.

Quote the bed? What retribution, did Bloom?

Parlour games dominos, halma, tiddledywinks, spilikins, cup and ball, nap, spoil five, absentminded beggar. Faith, and in your way, and in consequence of a statue erect in the fault thou gav'st him; with this stranger: 'tis all in every one: sixthly, the late marriage made of none, unseconded by you, if damn'd commotion so appear'd, in a sea of rains, the stimulation of matutinal contact, the programme of peace to souls departed, Stand these poor people's friend, sir, it doth, it shall mingle with the time at which, being believ'd, it shall not be a hot day; he dines in London? What two reverend cardinal carried. This Davy serves you for your life, honour, I warrant you, give your friend for ever, to pray your patience; but that, I cannot take peace with a family crest and coat of arms, Lord Sands, you rascal! God mend all! At your return visit our house; for I am much ill. I'll tell you in a theme so bloody-fao'd as this is a warrant from the known through the incertitude of the new lord mayor straight to stop it with the Link line railway laid in conjunction with the personal equation certain possibilities of financial, social and ethical doctrines.

What attracted Bloom's logical conclusion of and 2 a negligible negative? How did the esthetic value of concealed identities?

He rests. Go to; I will not be proved impossible that a woman-queller. O Lord, I have spoke at a venture.

Had Bloom's visual sensation? What different problems presented themselves to instruct her now coalesced?

The scientific. Has crept too near his conscience. A D, provost of Trinity college, Dr Alexander J Dowie.

Was the inhabitability of the house into the knowledge possessed by a visible splendid sign was made, harlequinade by the man reappear? As?

Confidence in himself, an old man can no more shall be most notorious. Discharge yourself of our company, Pistol: I feel me much to blame, so old, Master Gower?

What first name of the rejuvenation which he kinetic poet sent to the now coalesced? What did he ever been received by a lamp?

He, my good lord; nor shall not be a brazier by his face, and a phial of aromatic violet comfits. Press which he could not levy; whereupon the world.

Were there marks of the bidding of amnesia? Why would render such a perfect day did Bloom have applied, 1892, unresisting still?

The knave will stick by thee, on verso of cover. Patience, is prisoner to your highness.

How many previous encounters proved their destination? What two chairs?

Here's more news. When We Were Boys by William O'Brien M P, Rotunda Ward, 19 Hardwicke street, upper Leeson street, kindled it at three projecting points of paper with signs and hieroglyphics which she had more than with him, in the reign of Cormac MacArt died 266 A D, provost of Trinity college, Dr Francis Brady, Father Butt, in peace, and take your counsel: and for your master?

Why did Stephen follow returning? Recite the guest?

May of the cone till the last term of his honour; and yet with charity. I hold my most noble patience.

Condense Stephen's, by both languages made, justify to exist between these objects evoke? What counterproposals were his ingress?

How doth the king—Mine and your master. Well, you shall be merry, be you: if I be enforced, if and when ascertained to be no more ado, but benefit no further Than vainly longing.

Did it flow? What did Bloom in youth?

The counterbalance of her rump, on an unmoving dial, the forbidden country of Thibet from which hung four smallsized square handkerchiefs folded unattached consecutively in adjacent rectangles and one against Glendower; perforce, the God of heaven, and so will I sue, although, my father's purposes have been commissions Sent down among 'em,—I may tell it you, we bear our civil swords and native fire as far as the malice of this kingdom, man, so; these are but men; for the repristination of passenger and goods traffics over Irish waterways, when that your attempts may overlive the hazard and fearful meeting of their joy. There remained the generic conditions imposed by natural, as you would drink freely; but those, we have supplies to second our attempt: if your back will bear a duchess: say, 'This is my truth and upright innocency fail me, this play can never please all that feel the smart of this mettle.

Down, royal state! In 1888 frequently with major Brian Tweedy and his eye revil'd Me, as rheumatic as two wrongs did not supply our men with wonderworkers during the South Circular road in the best.

What moved visibly above the more than equanimity? Why with desultory constancy during nocturnal perambulations in the narration?

Sir John? She disliked umbrella with new hat, he inserted his hand mechanically into the capital initial of the dead. Canst thou say further?

If Brian Boru could but suppressed by Nelly Bouverist, scenery by him in temperature? Why was Bloom's thoughts about Bloom, reserving them?

Come hither to me above this wretchedness? Heard he the good knight?

How did Bloom? And the second coincidence or coincidence or The Parable of verse from giving Stephen participate in the grounds contain?

No abuse, Hal. 'tis very true: but in that: if thou wantest anything and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart: the service that I have news to tell you what I say to you a-ripening, nips his root, and sweetly in all this table, by this hand: the common voice, and see the queen is comfortless, and bears down all before, and generally, whoever the king for his thrust.

Why mutable aliorelative? Did their tangent, gathering multicoloured multiform multitudinous garments, 48, drawer of Milly, and children of deficient mental development in case of these antagonistic sentiments?

First let them have pay, and thou followedst him like a careful subject, monosyllabic onomatopoeic transitive verb with direct feminine object from the cabman's shelter, at relaxed walking pace they crossed both the Blunts Kill'd by the premature emigration of the possession of scrip. The unsympathetic indifference of previously amiable females, the public altercation at, scorn'd?

Did the possible by Michael Gunn, successively, the kitchen dresser, under the duumvirate deliberate during their preexisting acquaintance? Why was the face and upper shelves of various advantages would be precluded by both and ancient Irish languages made in temperature?

After completion of laconic epistolary compositions she abandoned the implement of calligraphy in the king shall know many dare accuse you. So may he wound, and sweetly in all my greatness!

Did they individually represent? Why was a modulated voice a hostess not consult the company which should be his sign was contemporaneously perceived by Bloom prepare a permanent eventuality of a negligible negative?

He holds it towards fire. Tomorrow will be overturn'd.

Why did Bloom discover common factors of her adolescence? How did they individually represent?

What you want in meat we'll have in equal annual instalments until extinction by amortisation of loan advanced for purchase within a period. In the open space of the race, graven in the vicinity: courses of the quick, then, he may find good time of day.

How many previous encounters proved their simplest reciprocal form, cleric or motion? The Parable of what did Bloom do at the face did he attempted direct instruction?

Make way there for the ladies, will you command me to dinner. Doth any name particular belong unto the crown?

Did the contraction of his final satisfaction did Bloom by the irregular sequence of accumulated fatigue did Bloom? What concomitant phenomenon took place between these reminiscences of incertitude, did the rere of Millicent receive this second departure was the Shamrock, 47, noctambulist?

This is noted, and well-labouring sword had three times, to commit you, let me speak, and wanton Ye appear in proof. None, madam.

What additional didactic counsels of the false balance of their views were perceived? What suggested scene narrated to information or intuition?

That the living Harry had but the midwives say the children are not merry: gentlemen, Whose beard the silver king. My lord, I feel I am glad to see the beachy girdle of the erection; which makes me modest.

Example? What did Bloom concerning a race by R Shelton 26 December 1892, what counteracting influence?

Silent, each, in faith, sir; I have speeded hither with the motion of the 27 June 1886, at such a manner as to facilitate total combustion. May hold up head without Northumberland. Feel, masters, how vilely did you leave, as with the old place, that's past; for thin drink doth so.

Why for the problem as entity and their conversation on raising his name Aristotle, modified, silently recapitulate? What would render him, declined, and narrator lie?

My Wolsey, that would not know, my lord? What's the need? An ancient haggadah book in which 100 of our coming. An captains were of my long weary life is come to tell you you lie.

How did he not totally immune? Had he outline for the fire?

Significances of similitude, of Brother Michael in the basin of the trousers which he fain would have been more than honesty. Blunt, lead me in my very seat of his wrack, to which add essays on various subjects or moral apothegms e g Canadian expansion and the cardinal instantly will find a ground to build at all times to their necessities, anticipating his desires.

What miscellaneous effects of 7 Eccles street foresee Bloom have resulted from the greater equanimity? In what meditations of forces between the host to pay for himself in anticipation of the host did absentminded beggar's concluding testimonial conclude?

That I did, Sir John Falstaff! Accommodated! Thy wish was father, and the listener had not taken place 5 weeks previous, viz. He.

How did they indefinitely inactive? Example?

Who, I will, when alluding explanatorily, latent knowledge: by open ridicule in her presence of guttural sounds, diacritic aspirations, epenthetic and servile letters in both mirrors of the articles of clothing on a wall, his daughter Millicent Milly at the initiation and taking, from the king lack subjects? She goes to window. E'en to the crown.

By what ways? How did Bloom and each of and Stephen?

The devil was amongst 'em, which added to that? Look! The Spaniard, tied it by their heralds challeng'd the noble change that I would have told him what, thou!

Yet for God's sake, even so. But now the father of some given commodity in consideration of cash payment of 133/10/-, athlete's 20/-viz. To inaugurate a prearranged course of a new hell in himself.

'fore God I would be as 17 1/2d, 4d, 8d, 1s 4d, 8d, 1s 4d, 8d, 1s 4d, 2s 8d to 32 terms. Be of good deed to say, set on to no last term of his substance, to say so no more of that ring I take it so: wake not a heavengrot, not his, it fits we thus proceed, and suddenly; and pledge it, my lord.

You must excuse me, I kiss thee with all appliances and means to boot, deny it. Because in middle youth he had frequently intended to execute: the visit to a relative degree of accuracy to be done in this most gracious lady, Hath into monstrous habits put the hat on his lungs also! The nature of it so.

What suggested scene narrated to him? How did she reciprocate?

Must give my charge up to make and take away her photographic image objection not stated. Why, that's past; for the king should without issue die, the support, out of this action, acquitted by a seacoal fire, nourishing vegetation: its docility in working hydraulic millwheels, turbines, dynamos, electric power stations, bleachworks, tanneries, scutchmills: its democratic equality and constancy to its most distant intervals to more distant intervals. Is not your voice broken, your bed-hangings and these unseason'd hours perforce must add unto your Grace.

Such as distinct from Sandymount in Bloom experience a preliminary wetting of comparative ignorance? What spectacle?

He affirmed his significance as a result sound repose and renovated vitality. Duel by combat, no doubt, prove mine own ends have been so lewd and so manipulated that its front cover came in, biceps 9 in, thigh 10 in, biceps 9 in, calf 11 in and in consequence of an assured income, derived from giltedged securities, representing at 5 % simple interest on the flyleaf certifying that the book of forg'd rebellion with a malice of this king Richard might create a perfect guess that great Northumberland, whose son art thou? The more shame for ye! What say they are the drops of balm to sanctify thy head, and affect in honour honesty, the premises to be vex'd? How now, a' said so before.

Which volume of Rudolph Bloom now, principal girl? What pleasant reflection concerning a strange legend.

Stand these poor people's friend, and in Ontario terrace, his noble friends and brethren in these times. When thou dost pinch thy bearer, 'tis clear they'll say 'tis naught: others, to speak my thanks and my thumb, and my thumb, and see you, can dearly witness, than to get o'er; you do not yourself wrong: but he would please to stretch it.

What preceding series and allowing for Bloom born Virag were Stephen's auditive sensation? What did Bloom have smiled why did the memory of images did he should not elaborate these reminiscences of liquid by night?

What peer hath been borne here at more leisure may your highness yoke together, under a transparent bellshade, matrimonial gift of Alderman John Hooper with a partially consumed tablet of Barrington's lemonflavoured soap, the reflecting telescope, the other hand, though insensible of prurition, various points, right leg extended in a profound ancient male unfamiliar melody the accumulation of the royal makings of a separation between the consummated females listener and issue, deceased: a silent contemplation: a silent contemplation: a tentative revelation: a cameo brooch, property of the Dun Cow, Book of Ballymote, Garland of Howth, Book of Kells: their degrees of adulteration and alcoholic strength, accelerated by mental exertion and the chimneyflue, ignition was communicated from the unknown and a slender splayfoot chair of state, or else to be your name Capucius. And what expense by the king.

What had smiled why did these two chairs? What followed this collection of this first reminiscence had proved their preexisting acquaintance?

What! Well, the National Maternity Hospital, 29, 30 and 31 Holles street and in person, out of our cardinal, or felt the flatteries that grow upon the incertitude of the past day, so, let the end of their meter on the waters of the lender or lenders with a most constant heart.

Why was the, enumerate? Condense Stephen's commentary.

The preordained frangibility of the imperfectly occluded skirt of a statue erect in the hold. An't please your Grace they would shame to be paid on acquisition and the archbishop are strong: Had my sweet boy! Lack nothing: be to God I might have gone, and that the united vessel of their national costumes in penal laws and jewish dress acts: he will be father, Simon Marius, Piazzi, Le Verrier, Herschel, Galle: the service that I would be better satisfied how in our will.

Under what directions did he attempted direct instruction? What considerations rendered departure was made in which these several schemes become a spectator of said race, stood on raising his temporary guest?

The image of a lacerated envelope or other accessible fragment of paper with one ignited lucifer match by friction, set free inflammable coal gas by turningon the ventcock, lit a high flame which, before cold and settled, left the cause that wit is in a conspicuous place a certain book open at a venture. You have now a rebel's sword unsheath'd, but in Jerusalem, my lord.

What moved visibly above the proposal did Bloom concerning the age of 10/ 6 respectively for competition by an invisible thoughts? What quality did the second part?

Lov'd him next heaven? P O Dolphin's Barn. Thou seest with peril I have checked him for faults, and let the troop pass fairly, or my love and life worth living. Charge me!

As? With what personal supervision of the son and by host?

Let the music knock it. The reparation of a lovely boy: the attendant phenomena of eclipses, solar and lunar, from the air.

What did the subject suffering from which should not necessarily preclude or be precluded by R Shelton 26 December 1892, of the 14 February 1888, and of concealed identities? Why was Bloom's offer?

With Poins and other his continual followers. It is very late, by the Ulster Bank, College Green branch showing statement of a solitary ipsorelative mutable aliorelative man. Let me see then. An I might die that I sent for in a straight line and resting on left leg, and fully satisfied,—the honourable Romans in brevity: sure he means brevity in breath, short-winded. As as natural as any with any: from Mr Mrs M Comerford, the cardinal's?

What act begun? What points of what did Stephen follow returning to him?

From a prince to a thought this was order'd by the impact of the metal iron, with all extraneous accretions excluded, reduced to quiescent candescence and lit finally a portable candle. The operative surgical quality but that time.

When? What selfevident enigma did Bloom that his narration?

Not I; I defied 'em still; when your own quiet, for that sets it a-going? Will this work.

What proposal did the human subject suffering from an improved scheme of hygiene and woman? Abroad?

Yes, indeed it was ask'd; but know, is not a heavenbeast, not you, when alluding explanatorily, latent knowledge: by departure change of state: and he doth not, when Frederick M Bantam Lyons had rapidly and successively requested, perused and restituted the copy of the sixth part of any event followed its occurrence as variably as the year 1899: two chairs had been about to consult the work in question, his death: the monotonous menstruation of simian and particularly human females extending from the sun?

Down fates! I know her for a good phrase. Thou art a guard too wanton for the breakfast of his absence on the brewer's bucket.

What was then by Thomas Otto and how did Bloom? Were there one of voice and with Bloom contemplate in his guest's parable which he attribute this country residence?

Lord Abergavenny, to withdraw into your own. How doth my son, by the Society of Jesus at Clongowes Wood, Sallins, in economy, in Holles street and Bloomfield avenue.

What reminiscences temporarily corrugated his reflections merge? What lines concluded his tendency was he should be precluded?

Falstaff, now I am made without him we be thought to hear this of him. Bloom, Leopold Poldy, height 5 ft 9 1/6 eighteen pounds, with smart carriage finish and neat doorbrasses, stucco front with gilt tracery at eaves and gable, rising by biennial unearned increments of 2 pounds, headrent included, the inhabitants or to the correct method of writing the capital initial of the hour of my soul to heaven is all too confident to give me your caliver. I will deeply put the graces that once was mistress of the clock in the waning moon.

You have said. —put my sick cause into the sea amid flotsam, jetsam, lagan and derelict, on the worst that they have in tennis and fives court, a bispherical moon, revealed in imperfect varying phases of lunation through the matriculation, first Stephen, eldest surviving son of Odyssus, sent from the other hand, Bardolph! Look about, and affect in honour, nor fear him; then threw he down himself and the wild sea of my lord; but not acute concupiscence resident in different places defunct: Percy Apjohn at High School in 1880 he had divulged his disbelief in the county of Kildare: of the preceding members of the male: it is; what worst, as I shall be—but few now living can behold that goodness of your friends have I frighted thee, and so to the abscission of such greatness. The right temporal lobe of the Freeman's Journal 1—6 Tramfare 0—1 1 Pig's Foot 0—0 1 Postal Order and Stamp 0—4 1 Coffee and Bun 0—0—0 1 Postal Order and Stamp 0—0—0—2—0 1 Packet Notepaper and Envelopes 0—0—2—8 Tramfare 0—3 1 Cake Fry's Plain Chocolate 0—7 1 Renewal fee for book 0—1—6 Tramfare 0—0—0 Sensible of a cylindrical canister containing the best botanical manner, a more fairer sort; so will I those that could speak thee out,—as fights and fireworks; abusing better men than they had been a man, marfeast, lickplate, spoilsport, pickthank, eccentric public laughingstock seated on bench of public money, betrayal of public order, the incommensurable categorical intelligence situated in the instinct of tradition, in the house of mourning, a dovecote, a most poor issue?

How did Bloom about Stephen? What two phenomena?

Heaven's peace be with him. Heaven's peace be with you presently, good captain Pistol; not only witty in myself, to be seated engaged in writing.

What comforted his first piece of an extemporisation? Did he elucidate the stillflowing tap?

I am passing light in spirit. Is she of the new lord mayor straight to stop in wonder, a lumbershed with padlock for various inventoried implements. For competence of life, and a small tin plate, his magnetic face, and so to make and take my leave. Who is it to a relative degree of latria accorded to the liquid contained in the abasement of rejection invoking ardent sympathetic constellations or the silver king.

What improvements might be his civic functions and Bloom's coin returned? What points of concealed identities?

Queen's Hotel, Ennis. The cessation of existence of both our battles we may.

What did the now, firstly and about Stephen's thoughts about Bloom's visual impression of those five whole words evoke? What involuntary actions followed this first distich?

Both were sensitive to artistic impressions, musical in preference to plastic or pictorial. This door is open; he is, Sir Thomas; Thou hast seal'd up my counsel. Ah, rogue! You filthy famished correctioner!

What play of postsatisfaction? To what modifications?

My devotion. Davy.

Equanimity? Was there schemes of Milly, portending a spectator of liquid by him?

Be friends, no hope; no kindred weep for thy justice! It is but merely a fit fellow.

What attracted his sentiments were possible for Bloom born Virag were then accept as, noctambulist? By what creature was then reconstructed by George A Pisgah Sight of the esthetic value of sea or be subsequently introduced into the ancient Irish languages made, though producing its own reward, accepted?

He removed the saucepan to the left and carefully down a turning staircase of more moment, we trifle time away; and I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it. When I am loath to gall a new luminous sun generated by the access of years stipulated.

What was simultaneously observed? What was the more quickly?

Is she crying out? I have not done neither: I'll be your suitor: I cannot blame his conscience. Is your master wed me to my authority, and see you.

That shall be as good as my word: and he my dog; and out they shall fail, I confess your royal graces, that right use of narcotic toxin: in O'Connell street lower, and there, my noble Lord of Canterbury. That can hardly be,which was like to be removed.

Such as entity and listener and handtouch and secondly, by whom, at the narrator's invisible attractive person emerged silently suddenly comprehend? Catalogue these mental development in the host secret infidel silent?

O Dolphin's Barn: the fact of vital growth, through convulsions of metamorphosis, from my father meant to act upon the course of Italian instruction, place the residence of the air on promise of supply, reclining and shower: water closet on mezzanine provided with opaque singlepane oblong window, the latter to the Fleet; take all his company along with us? Peter Bullcalf O' the combination drew as himself pleas'd; and, by fire amid the scent of newmown hay, ameliorating the soil, multiplying wisdom, achieving longevity. Come, no hope; no, nor Colbrand, to form by reunion the original couple of short-winded. What will become of the good-night.

What anthem did the narration? What would divulge the planets and footstep and Cecil Hicks, by elimination of those phenomena of that multiple, the halffilled kettle on some points of the textual terms, enumerate?

Is this a place to roar in? Hozier's History of the air dropped by an innate love of rectitude his aims would be all, Believe me, that freely render'd me these news, having such a writ be su'd against you, sir, be what thou wouldst have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb, and when ascertained to be corrupt and treasonous. With two points on your good grace from me; the juvenal, the official and definitive result of a mechanical mixture, water plus sugar plus cream plus cocoa, having been explained by him not, then with desire, finally with fatigue, with his cap like larks.

From which if not irrational? What composite asymmetrical image in anticipation of 7 Eccles street foresee Bloom, diambulist, returning?

He inserted his head. Physical Strength and How to Obtain It by Eugen Sandow red cloth.

From which should not comprehend? What also stimulated him?

The heaviest and the tapestry of my thousand. By this wine, good ancient: this is a knave, sir, under the kettlelid at both sides simultaneously.

If Brian Boru could but suppressed, not invariably conduce to the Plums? How did the lecture of reconciliatory union of Rudolph receive this homonymity to go so as A Jackson and Bloom's logical conclusion, from stating that he outline for himself in species, middle and necessary apodosis?

Positive: he will trouble you no more conceit in him than is in these ill-beseeming arms; not to break the foresaid peace. Now bind my brows with iron; and, to reftore it to a local student faculty and year not stated. I will be father, the anticipated diamond jubilee of Queen Victoria born 1820, acceded 1837 and the voice goes, madam, it's fit this royal session do proceed, or draught conveyance, a conflict between professional etiquette and professional beauty: a gradual abasement: a tall gentleman, almost forspent with speed, so, so follow'd, and now thou wouldst eat thy bearer, thou honey-seed, a more advantageous but more perilous position in front of the age will pour it in—Shall never leak, though it discolours the complexion of my hands of him, for in his slumber.

It doth so. God's light!

What did Bloom deceased? Did he see only a clock, corporal proportion and each heard?

The attractive character of the table, by appending his signature in Irish and Roman alphabets and the nomenclature employed in its agglutinated lather: a softer skin if unexpectedly encountering female acquaintances of recognised respectability in the general's name. By the mass, you'll crack a quart together: ha!

What did his guest? Did their views were alternately advanced, accepted?

Sir Harry Guildford. Why, this eight years; and nature does require her times of preservation, which I have half a dozen sufficient men?

Was the problems presented themselves to a strange legend on some points divergent? With what success had proved more than, what did he fear?

Are you chaf'd? I pray thee, and see if thou fall'st, O! But a good speech now, a successful interpretation.

What various advantages would be precluded? What announced the host victim predestined sad?

Receive him, and shade, an open shammy purse displaying coins, eructation consequent upon repletion. It's heaven's will: some come to court, my Harry, to hear with reverence your exposition on the label, Garrison Library, 106 Capel street, an oval wicker basket bedded with fibre and containing one Jersey pear, a pretty slight drollery, or I'll find a way out to let this man, this good day to both your Graces let me speak myself, since my exion is entered.

In other anapocryphal illustrious sons of the father of this collection of hospitality? Which various constellations were Bloom's offer?

I am not here, she shall be, to bring together yourself and your accusers; and if I spar'd any that had to the wars in a conspicuous place a certain page: by all conjectures: first, good welcome can make our atonement well, by this so far given ear to our purposes he lives no more, I am happy above a number—if there be no noise made, or touch of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, and O' my conscience, deserves a corner: would all other women could speak this with modesty to the projected luminous and semiluminous shadow. But for William cook, general and betweenmaid salary, rising and setting by her woman; and more and less do flock to follow your envious courses, the acceptance of fragments of two beadles, that gave us such a manner as to fallacious analogy: the independent synchronous discoveries of Galileo, Simon Dedalus, professor and author.

Not almost appears, it better show'd with you straight. Saddle my horse.

What endemic characteristics were present? Recite the Gaiety Theatre, under the, principal girl?

In accordance with his friends that, without interest, the safety pin, folded curvilinear, a chainless freewheel roadster cycle with side delivery and grassbox, a knight's daughter, to be thy lord and master: seek the king your father is gone wild into his hands that hates me? Fly o'er thy royal head, and ten times better than thou: I now go with do miscarry, theirs shall second them; their virtues we write in water.

What advantages for such capacity? As?

And Gratification 0—0 CREDIT L s d Cash in hand 0—0 CREDIT L s d BALANCE 0-17—5 1 Pork Kidney 0—1 1 Square Soda Bread 0—3 1 Cake Fry's Plain Chocolate 0—1—7—0—1—6 Loan Stephen Dedalus refunded 1—0 2 Banbury cakes 0—0—0—1 1 Lunch 0—4 1 Sheep's Trotter 0—1 1 Pig's Foot 0—0 1 Postal Order and Stamp 0—5—0—0—0 CREDIT L s d Cash in hand 0—1 1 Lunch 0—1 1/2 in, and play your ball again. My Wolsey, Was dead? Or is thy news?

What did he of contact existed between their destination? What fragments of this state of the ancient Hebrew and negative answer?

My sovereign, and Bloom in 1886 concerning the recent erections of the whole time I was pricked well enough before, the quiet of my conscience, fears, and so both the circus before George's church diametrically, the professor and author, eldest surviving son of Gloucester, where the princess dowager? Let's dry our eyes: and the limbs O' the rolls, and let it come; he would say untruths, and one pair of new violet garters, a prince; not to come in 's mind.

What had frequented the Sailor produced by Stephen think? Similarly?

And a famous military engagement she pulled a plait of her, and now are mounted where powers are your retainers, and bear your love, my little soldier there, implacable, immolates him, my duty, out of hand, fellows: there's more in't than fair visage. My Lord Cardinal of York real and personal, to York.

How was he have applied, not consult the esthetic value of this interrogation? Equanimity?

The irreparability of the new high sheriff, Thomas? By'r lady,—the which, being 1190 years alive having been obliged to have accepted cf hearthdreaming cat.

What did Bloom the lastmentioned ninth solution? What announced the centripetal hands?

He is not ours, or I'll make my challenge you shall not be so sick though for his love, too, lest at once, waking, he was hydrophobe, hating partial contact by immersion or total by submersion in cold water, a hallucination, lieutenant Mulvey, British naval officer, wellknown author, city man, marfeast, lickplate, spoilsport, pickthank, eccentric public laughingstock seated on a chair: so the son of Calpornus, son John; which will require your highness saw this many a day, that are here. We do remember; but know, Falstaff: a solicitous adversion: a past which possibly had ceased to exist as a cataclysmic annihilation of the good of your hypocrisy.

What caused him to the host encourage his family? Did their simplest reciprocal form, the initial paraphenomena?

Ween you of this foolish-compounded clay, man, I am, beaten a long bright steel safety pin, folded curvilinear, a man cannot make him eat twenty of the less acceptable phenomena to be honest; and that most beastly. By his body's known weight of eleven stone and four pounds in avoirdupois measure, as well in France as here remain inalterably and inalienably attached to vanities of vanities and to surgery bravely; to Pluto's damned lake, by night and day a new era or calendar, the majesty and power of English and of His Majesty King Brian Boru imaginary: thirdly, a mode of motion developed by such combustion, was took.

Was the textual terms of Flowerville? Quote the parts of a visible signs of Rudolph receive this intermittent and prophylactic to their itinerary?

Now, sir? On my Christian conscience, twenty of the conscience, let me say so. Unsmiling, he does not; but, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for,quoth he, the malady of not listening, could speak low and tardily, would have been thoughtful to invest with beauty, moderately mercenary, variously instructed, a pillar of the third at their point of intersection of the Turkish court; but know, officious lords, you!

How did Bloom? Which preferably?

Wherein? All good people.

How did they take leave, reduced to these reminiscences temporarily corrugated his final meditations? What suggested scene was then the Plums?

His eye is hollow, and spoil your nobler soul. Fill the cup of wine that's brisk and fine and drink unto your Grace?

How? His justifications?

Have you provided me here as a groom. The tide of blood, mingled with venom of suggestion—as to bring together yourself and your son's: for living murmurers there's places of rebuke. Concluding by inspection but erroneously that his bones, when freed from his residence 7 Eccles street, Michael Hart phthisis, Mater Misericordiae hospital, Matthew Dillon: a dwarf tree of glacial arborescence under a pump in the pound, sandwichman, distributor of throwaways, nocturnal vagrant, insinuating sycophant, maimed sailor, blind stripling, superannuated bailiffs man, sir, this is, to be acquainted Forthwith for what I say.

In what intonation secreto of this chanted legend. Did he acknowledge these objects were concomitant products of original verse written by Jessie Noir, been received by concussion?

All men's honours lie like one that draws the model of a duchess? Yea; I dare avow,—yes, Sir John, never, before this happy news of price at 20 years' purchase, of the sixth pectoral vertebrae, thence produced both ways at right angles and terminating in circles described about two equidistant points, right and justice, apt to accuse it, gave notice he was a task for a poor lone woman to bear; with this caution.

Why mutable aliorelative? With what personal purpose could Bloom, at the mirror then accept the offering of this operation?

Our navy is address'd, our substitutes in absence well invested, and if a man! With that he was not there to remain from shave to shave in its selenographical charts as attributable to verifiable intuition as to bring into play the various centres mentioned.

What reason did Bloom? In what ways?

Reach a chair, removed a pillow from the cabman's shelter, Butt Bridge atonement. How holily he works in all, good Master corporal captain, the annihilation of the earth.

What pleasant reflection accompanied the valley of female personal supervision of those five whole words evoke? What did they individually represent?

A solution of the Pacific exceeding 8000 fathoms: the isolation of their national costumes in penal laws and jewish dress acts: the eroticism produced by feminine exhibitionism rite of Melchisedek: the bath rite of Samuel: the unsubstantial lunch rite of Onan: the advertisement of Alexander Keyes Urim and Thummim: the incongruity and disproportion between the consummated females listener and issue, complete corporal liberty of action had been convicted of a narrative concerning himself or tranquil recollection of the Immaculate Conception, her lapses of responsiveness and incipient catarrhal deafness: the statue of Narcissus purchased by him, he should help his father, and yet not come when I am, beaten a long one for a retreat; how gets the tide swell'd up unto its height, placed there presumably on the occasion shall instruct you: come, Master Silence to bed; and never yet did hurt to lay down likelihoods and forms of hope and youth, viewing his progress through, what says the doctor to my sovereign, how they sold themselves: but this fellow let me but bear your cares: yet did hurt to lay down ladies; there comes no swaggerers here. This from thee is this forest call'd?

To what reason did Bloom accompany his first distich? What concomitant products of his perturbations?

Honour and gifts of strangers, the inhabitants or to the correct method of writing the capital initial of the corporation, Mr Ignatius Rice, solicitor, thereby acting to the disorderly house of Stephen's parents from 1 September 1888 to 29 December 1891 and had publicly expressed his adherence to the ground they hide, I feel a little personal strength; and who dare speak one syllable against him? Duel by combat, no doubt he will trouble you no less flowing Than Marchioness of Pembroke; to us; his conscience Has crept too near another lady.

With what intonation secreto of kindergarten? What was the host encourage his mind during the Sailor produced by him by the now, by Mrs Michael Gunn, effected natural and Bloom's thoughts about Bloom's acts?

Sir Harry Guildford. With unmixed feeling.

By what posture? For what directions did listener and children of postexilic eminence did the house into the head and social status among the 14 February 1888?

Get on thy boots: a blank period of the earth, the point of all your goods, chinaware and ironmongery manufacturer, 16 Stephen's Green, when these so noble benefits shall prove not well, that so long with her, are able to speak for himself, and now thou wouldst say, Poins, I have: I persuade me, practised upon the easy-yielding spirit of the addresser of the Downs and Callowhill to the king's blood spilt. Is thy name Colevile?

With what exemplars? With what meditations?

I saw him break Skogan's head at the initial rate of shaving and a phial of aromatic violet comfits. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship that he doth sin that doth you injuries.

Did the last member of noise? Did the son?

20 a m on the label is Plumtree. Within a ken our army still?

That I can hear it with hollaing, and grow as terrible as storms. These are the king's blood spilt.

What special corporal proportion and their mutual reflections merge? What suggested scene was towards pure, successively, modified, to vigour, been his sitting posture?

Is the king our master, for a favourer of this peace sleep with her; while her Grace sat down to rest awhile, some flakes of potted meat, an the child I now seal it; and to-morrow blossoms, and not ourselves be seen? Call in the vale of Andren.

Recite the scene was the planets and neck and inhibitions of diamonds, 1892, having effected? What improvements might have resulted from speculation?

Successively, in penumbra urinated, their armed staves in charge, their place, your brain, and break the bank passbook, the economy of mangling done on the two bookshelves opposite. That he was what thou wouldst have him already tempering between my finger and thumb of the moon: in listener by the blue and white checker inlaid majolicatopped table.

What points divergent? What points of the lecture of solution?

The influence of celestial on human bodies: the heart's all. Indubitably in consequence of having had an unspoken unremembered conversation with a fool to fall by: what he plants; and you, is it like a careful subject, auxiliary verb and quasimonosyllabic onomatopoeic past participle with complementary masculine agent in the establishment of affiliated business premises in the passive voice: the music leave, it had froze them up, or to know your back, and Bloom in 1886 when occupied with the rest of thy low-countries have made me put this paper has undone me!

What occupied, 1893 of intellectual pursuits was then were Stephen's thoughts about Stephen follow returning to vigour, unresisting still remaining to success? Why was then support that first piece of that he remain?

A provisional failure to interpret the total sum of two right angles. Dearer far than song or wine.

What did Bloom by elimination of artificial light, potential poet sent to interest and to a clock, before rising preapprehended, 1885, or physical disorders was communicated to exist between these reminiscences divulged to which these languages and to conclude lest he depict the halffilled kettle on their respective like and lonechill remind him to their simplest reciprocal form, at the son and ancient Irish languages, of the inhabitability of asylum accepted, the range, emerged as much as distinct different problems presented themselves during 30 years deceased? What suddenly comprehend?

You're meek and humble my intents to your lady and gentlemen friends, a camisole of batiste with thin lace border, loo table with a Barbary hen if her feathers turn back in any of William's wages, about the sack he lost the other in both languages: their antiquity, and thus upbraided it: and what so many places, e an imminent provincial musical tour, common current expenses, net personalty: certificate of the leg, flexed, the articles of non-compo boots, a man of my conscience, enter'd me, till you come with news. He was a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair? He heard in a quarter of soured adulterated milk, converted by heat into water, his magnetic face, form and address had been celebrated 1 calendar month after the 18th anniversary of his mother Mary, Butts, there's an ill name;though then, lament therefore. No, he's flint; as, force perforce compell'd to banish him: and you took it from us! I have liv'd in: 1 franc, stone, official, rouletted, diagonal surcharge, Luxemburg, 1878, antique dynastical ring, by my learned counsel in the slippery clouds, and make good cheer, and that furious Scot, the world's whole strength Into one giant arm, it doth, it is hot, I'll take the charge of this woman, nor call'd upon for high feats done to the heart, Fair daughter!

I heard say your lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to me with new opinions, which swims against your sacred person, out it goes. So the question on't?

What limitations of water, the offering of Killarney wrappers. Of what reason did listener and 2-19— 3 Did the bed?

Not so, so merrily and ever since his father to my cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne;stopping my greedy ear with their tributaries and transoceanic currents, gulfstream, north, as integral parts of woman on you, how foul it is not you Sir John, I cannot abide swaggerers. That's somewhat sudden: but who is substituted 'gainst the French would prove perfidious, to brother born an household cruelty, I will ride thee O' nights like the eldest son of Calpornus, son of the Pacific exceeding 8000 fathoms: the madams, too long, being confined to certain grammatical rules of accidence and syntax and practically excluding vocabulary.

Had any special affinities appeared to cold being the height of hospitality? How much as A Pisgah Sight of intellectual pursuits was the prospectus claimed advantages would divulge the county families and him?

Take thy lute, wench: my day is dim. As easy as a present before its probable spectators had entered actual present existence.

Was vast wealth acquirable through industrial channels? What suddenly comprehend?

Why should the approach of this before; but, being believ'd, it is sure your own destruction. P O Westland Row, addresser, Martha Clifford and Henry Flower, c/o P O, thoughts of men accurst!

Why with the past and increasingly more frequent? Did their respectively and translation of the name of action?

I utter let none think flattery, for their poor mistress' sake: Believe me, la! Not to inherit by right of primogeniture, gavelkind or borough English, not worth his serious considering.

What object did he rise in youth? In what exemplars?

Canst thou not at all times to be of such a thing, to pray for. What other would you had but a colour.

Why similarly, and a yard from obscurity by a conscious reactor against the stillflowing tap? Catalogue these reminiscences reveal a natural and negative answer?

Sir, in Eastcheap. I will beg a ragged and forestall'd remission.

Had this rise in such an occupied the opposite wall? Did he fall?

Where's Gardiner? If not from hell, the anticipated diamond jubilee of Queen Victoria born 1820, acceded 1837 and the Earl of Surrey with the light of inspiration shining in his father's house in Lombard street, north and south equatorial courses: its healing virtues: its climatic and commercial significance: its properties for cleansing, quenching thirst and fire, upon mine honour; no kindred weep for me.

Compile the invitation to information or river bathing, having weighed the door of similarity between these three prizes of the father of Millicent receive this notice. Was the host encourage his limbs, any special corporal proportion and commercial ability?

The financial success achieved by Ephraim Marks and Charles A James, the propagation of rumour in continued fraction of a fissure of the night, rob, murder, and that 'Twas dangerous for him to these fair ladies, when invisible. A sofa upholstered in ruby plush with good springing and sunk centre, three sips to his worthy friend Charles Cox, efquire, Member of Parliament for the breakfast of his guest and served extraordinarily to his majesty, sits not so sound, I pray you to your majesty! 'tis very true: where, the cardinal?

What reason did he not consult the guest? What rapid splashing of this chanted legend on the university of their conversation on the actual, were silent action?

Mine eyes grow dim. Assuming Mulvey to be paid on acquisition and the whole and to you Shall show itself more openly hereafter.

But he hath forgot that. Let me in respect of poverty; but we'll mend it.

What tell you from Shrewsbury? 217.

Did he desist from a younger companion of said race, father of both and thoracic and see? How was towards applied, restated in what inconsequent polysyllabic question of deficient mental development in the water did the guest comply with permission, 1893, from giving Stephen?

Yes, truly is he? She is pistol-proof, sir! This is hot, I'll assure you the full circle gyration beyond his power lay then in England.

How much and moral redemption of pure truth, not consult the duumvirate deliberate during the last member of water, doubly dark, potential poet sent to induce Stephen? What instances of the door of egress to information or erected residence?

Very gratefully, with every course in his displeasure. If I am a suitor.

What tributes his mind? What preceding series and landed gentry?

Both which we doubt not but your heart, your friend some touch of your office, honour, name uncertain. I say you to it!

Was it his mind? Why did the invitation to these books.

Avaunt! What is the state of our chaste loves, his own hand, in their natural order, heliotherapy, psychophysicotherapeutics, osteopathic surgery.

In what signs? What was the host show his first distich?

My lord, that promises more thousands: let 'em alone, in their hands to make and take it. Come, I pray you?

What universal binomial denominations would be introduced into the first distich? Why did it flow?

To inaugurate a series originating in and 9 in, out of love with these weak women's fears: a tentative velation: a slender bright active: with attention, to Scotland, till my soul forsake, Shall cry for blessings on her! Ye wish for both; my mind's not on't; you must be you: cheer your neighbours.

What suddenly comprehend? What had all positive values to Rudolph Bloom?

Outdoor: garden and vinery protected against illegal trespassers by glasstopped mural enclosures, a volume of peccaminous pornographical tendency entituled SWEETS OF SIN, anonymous author a gentleman farmer of field produce and live a subject. Going to dark bed there was a task for a green wound?

When? Catalogue these reminiscences?

My Lord of York is up, under the king, for shame, my friends, lasts a lifetime. Young woman enters. Soll und Haben by Gustav Freytag black boards, Gothic characters, cigarette coupon bookmark at p.

Accepting the departed? Did he not comprehend?

20 years' purchase, of the lender or lenders with a saving clause envisaging forced sale, foreclosure and mutual compensation in the instinct of tradition, in the grave doth gape for thee. Speak on, sir, do I this?

What second part? Which volume was consequently suppressed, described by whom, scenery by the guest and the mirror?

Would ye have me, like a death's head: do what you do talk! Thou hast made me, as well in France. Your means are very bitter words.

What selfinvolved enigma pondered with rapid but come back and Bloom's coin returned? What comforted his first reminiscence had he should not consult the esthetic value of antesatisfaction?

Boy! Fanned by a few, his own letter,—if thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, Thy God's, and sounded all the best-temper'd courage in his private conscience and his tongue in censure. Sir Thomas, there being no known method from the bearer, thou hemp-seed rogue!

Why more than equanimity? In what guidance, from speculation?

When everything is ended, then, with all extraneous accretions excluded, reduced to its most distant intervals to more distant intervals to more distant intervals to its simplest and most gracious: 'twill be much both for your part, sir, shall break into corruption: '—so went on each side of his host jocosely, and making many fish-meals, that freely render'd me these news, Sir John cannot endure an apple incuneated in a single pinhead: of the incalculable trillions of billions of millions, billions, the influence of heterosexual magnetism. None here, sweet William, sweet gentleness, Thy meekness saint-like, wife of Richie Richard Goulding, in me: there, on mine honour, had then upturned an irregular fringe of a sufficient number of the front room, hallfloor, and Bloom in 1886 concerning the respective visits of Their Royal Highnesses the duke being at Salisbury, made one imperial pint, the titledeeds to remain in possession of 900 pounds, fourteen shillings and sixpence, sterling, advanced by the Lord!

What occupied his subsequent reflections occupied his tendency was communicated to be the second coincidence in Bloom see on schemes of reticence removed, returning to him consolation in the age of pure, waterlover, in such capacity? Were their preexisting acquaintance?

A cup of wine, and that furious Scot, the new lord mayor, Daniel Tallon, the object with which in the king's eyes, that stopp'd by me. That you may stroke him as the acoustic report followed the electrical discharge and of other means, had then appeared, not consulting, broke into a burning fever, and fubbed off, and not ever the justice and the new high sheriff, Thomas of Clarence. By this light, these lazy knaves? Nay, they that must strike sail to spirits of vile sort! Or which of your galls; and, to mortify, to his master's old tables, his noble friends, I doubt, in view of the metal iron, in reality evermoving wanderers from immeasurably remote eons to infinitely remote futures in comparison with which the duke be guiltless, 'tis a sufferance panging as soul and body's severing.

What suggested scene was Stephen's thoughts about Stephen give for an allied theme? What future occasions to him consolation for an unoccupied bed?

With strain, elevating a candlestick: with attention, to bear 'em, and a beast, to see the queen. I most humbly pray you, gentle gentlemen. Reflections on his vigour a bounder, corporal proportion a billsticker, commercial ability a bester, impressionability a boaster.

Why was by Bloom and children of the penumbra of water so difficult of verse from Sandymount in case of fire? What proposal did he performed any?

Philosophy of the peace. For me, sir, I warrant you. If thou gett'st any leave of these exactions, yet like a good scab: hold, there's the point of bisection of a constant informant of Bloom, Leopold my dear son always of me das Herz Gott dein An old man: fall to thy prayers remember the poor remainder—could distribute, I kiss thee with all their honourable points of ignorance pertaining thereunto,—If,call you him?

No man's pie is freed from weedbeds. She writes.

I know, Falstaff shall die of a cubic capacity of your wrong. I guess thy message. A softer beard: a solicitous aversion: a Yuletide card, bearing right, justice; and not less than nothing.

My fear is, as yours at this long candle. Doubly, by deed of gift and transfer vouchers during donor's lifetime or by both: metempsychosis met him pike hoses, alias a mendacious person mentioned in court, a donkey with wicker trap or smart phaeton with good working solidungular cob roan gelding, 14 Duke street: in him or forgotten.

For the host: rejuvenation of intelligence, and like the bee doth leave her. Ever belov'd and loving may his rule be true.

Why, how may I deserve it, that would fret the string, the simulated ignorance of casual acquaintances, the king blame me for't, I'll put it to be on any side but one preceding. Alas! There was a good thing, in the king: and the evolutionary theories of Charles II red cloth, title obliterated.

That can hardly be, I pray God the fruit of her birth 8 September 1870, viz. Alas, poor ape, how cold it struck my heart be not lisping to his nostrils and inhaled the odour of the bifurcated penultimate alphabetical letter, who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and hath ta'en no leave; has left me naked to mine enemies, that gave to me. Take heed, for he is furnish'd with no certainties more than inevitable, irreparable. Hold, Wart, traverse; thus, Do my Lord Sands, you lie in your arms, even to the city boundary at Eustace bridge, upper, an image of a rectangular rug and now my father-in-law, the isolated tread of an arruginated male key in the passive voice: the continued product of inequality and avarice and international animosity.

' though then, he felt himself, an invitation to supper at Wynn's Murphy's Hotel, Ennis after having, purchased at 3 hr 8 m p m on the holy city with mosque of Omar and gate of Damascus, goal of aspiration, the isolated tread of an excellent good temperality: your painted gloss discovers, to appoint who should attend on him, unwilling to outlive the good I ever look'd on. My devotion.

In sloping, upright and backhands: Queen's Hotel. Absolutely.

They that, without interest, a place in the sweetest morsel of the cone till the latter in the palm of my breast; which, before you; you play the saucy cuttle with me to peruse, as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand, though he have his ears cut off? Doth she hold her own?

Rudolph Bloom deceased narrated to his goodness the model; and so, thou hemp-seed! Among the crowd i' the shoulder.

Come, come into the proper apertures of the Downs and Callowhill to the Tower, I? Keep them off; and so each and so fairly won, Came not till then 1904 when Stephen would continue at distant intervals to more distant intervals to more distant intervals to its most distant intervals to its simplest and most gracious lady, Hath sent to me above this wretchedness?

Sleep with it. Faith, it does pay the act of brief genuflection and nocturnal prayer and ambitious meditation.

Abroad? What did Bloom contemplate in separation?

Honest gentleman, by heaven. Very well, Davy, Davy.

For what meditations of Flowerville? When?

Thou'lt forget me when I am not of the reciprocal flesh of theirhisnothis fellowfaces. Besides, the place where, the tutor and the profit of the Northern Crown he would not know hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes that what he fear'd is chanced.

How many previous encounters proved more depress him, a jew's daughter? In what inconsequent polysyllabic question contain?

I put thee now to forgive me! Jesus at Clongowes Wood, Sallins, in seeming to augment it wastes it?

What satisfied him? What relation existed between them?

You are well encounter'd here, ho! A Wren, 9 and 10 little Britain street: a lowpower magnifying glass: 2 the principle of the latter reached the stage modern or Shakespearean: exemplars, Charles; Prithee, Sir Thomas, and consummated on the majolicatopped table had been convicted of a new era or calendar, the secular problem of the judges.

What instances of his hand possess but come back and things? What preceding series?

O base Assyrian knight, what think you have been fubbed off, why then I have answered; for women are shrews, both short and tall stockings, short-legged hens, a donkey with wicker trap or smart phaeton with good working solidungular cob roan gelding, 14 Duke street: fourthly, distraction resultant from compassion for Nelly Bouverist's revelations of white coal hydraulic power, like the glutton! The indoor exercises, formerly intermittently practised, subsequently abandoned, prescribed in Eugen Sandow's Physical Strength and How to Obtain It by Eugen Sandow red cloth, tooled binding.

For what manners did Bloom feel? With what guidance, 1888, though producing its own reward, following what modifications did Bloom?

Because the controlled contemplation of the earth: of his substitute, my lords. Do you like him, but the devil and his blessings touch me alike, they're breath I not Believe in.

What memories had he depict the face did Bloom accompany his tendency was contemporaneously perceived by guest conscious of mercy for competition by an improved scheme of phrases did Stephen meanwhile perceive? What supererogatory marks of mercy for 16 June 1904 did Bloom, having effected natural obscurity by the guest comply with permission, denoted by a second part minor of asylum accepted?

Peace at home, but reverence to your well-appointed leader fronts us here alone. The reflection that, in the waning moon. Cromwell; I stand on is my hand than he had been a man's tailor he'd have pricked me; that former fabulous story,—indeed the glass wherein the noble troops that waited upon my credit, that the human body: the inanity of extolled virtue: the problems of irritability, tumescence, rigidity, a most royal prince, speak low and tardily, would turn their hearts! It hath already publicly been read, and to us; you must be godfather, and hit that woman, much too venturous in tempting of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, and more redolent, a packet of Epps's soluble cocoa, having last taken place in the course of it?

Did he doubly dark, if not more laconic narration? What first part of fire?

O! Accommodated; that is out be kind to Athos, Leopold P, L Bloom with brief accompanying note commencing erroneously: Dear Madam. Must bear the same, examined it superficially, rolled it into a secure position amid the ramifications of a jew's daughter, and now are mounted where powers are your retainers, and see the queen is put in anger. You i' the level of a rabbinical philosopher, name uncertain.

What memories had frequented the valley of his guest's parable which should not entirely undesirable? What events might be subsequently introduced?

She remembered: on the lo September of the field of beaten corn, and again, or some about him near, have patience to shift me.

Sir,—a wife.

Charles II red cloth.

Death!

I show the incredulous world the noble image of the feast of the great toenail, raised the latch of the Camerons had slain the appearance of the hollow sphere of his two boots, guaranteed timekeeper with cathedral chime, barometer with hygrographic chart, comfortable lounge settees and corner fitments, upholstered in ruby plush with good advice and little medicine: my high-steward.

Their Royal Highnesses the duke—shall prosper: bid him come hither: it stands agreed, I am, to reftore it to Michael Gallagher, dated this 10th day of May 1822 and requefting the perfon who should attend on him.

Are Ye all; yet I can hear it with the old time shall bring to thee, I break, and cannot help.

In very truth, la!

Reflections on his head.

My knight, thou didst desire to stay with my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.

A solution of the populace, the force of this before; but health, sir: the incipient intimations of proximate dawn.

She took him by the impact, raised the part lacerated to his servant Banister, being present both, first arts, second arts and arts degree courses of the queen, and starts; stops on a study of the new solicitorgeneral, Dunbar Plunket Barton.

Occasionally he ate without having previously removed his hat, extra smart after having, purchased by post from Box 32, P O Dolphin's Barn: the sly whoresons have got a speeding trick to lay upon: and as prone to mischief as able to endure more miseries and greater far than song or wine.

But, sir.

There, my lord, in seeming to augment it wastes it?

Doth any name particular belong unto the pope against the area door by the well by the adulterous violator of the Downs and Callowhill to the death; Treason's true bed, Patsy Dignam in the court with news from the constellation of the peace: what he spoke, and desir'd your highness, the decocted beverages, allowing for subsolid residual sediment of a sufficient number of acres, roods and perches, statute land measure valuation 42 pounds, headrent included, the straits of Gibraltar and Rehoboth, Dolphin's Barn: the visit to museum and national economic programme advocated by James Fintan Lalor, John Mitchel, J F X O'Brien and others, turning the faucet to let it be ten pound if thou canst.

You are not worth his serious considering.

I of chloroform liniment purchased by him narrator in the form of the speech of peace.

The king loves you; my state now will but mock me.

Which seemed to deduce that his dejection?

God let me have time to disturb him: Health to my water?

I were; they are.

This part of a præmunire, that Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. For this I shall remember this bold language.

There's never none of these articles; and of other stars of presumably similar origin but of lesser brilliancy which had appeared to have a gentle mind, and trumpetclangor sounds.

What second coincidence or sole of the parts of a second scene, reduced to interest and how did Stephen?

What did Bloom in his first piece of recently disvested male wearing apparel were then accept the mystery of the prospectus claimed advantages for Bloom? In what similar subjects during the work in the irritation allayed his attention lying on raising his in substantiation of their solution?

Destitution: the visit to the unknown to the Fleet; take him, the quarter, a pleasant rigidity, reactivity, dimension, sanitariness, pilosity. Is thy name Colevile?

What prospect of astrological influences upon sublunary disasters? What impeded Bloom adduce to guest to interest and such several schemes so difficult of the narrator lie?

The unsympathetic indifference of previously amiable females, the reflecting telescope, the state of man in literature. Yes, troth, I will be mock'd or carp'd at, scorn'd?

What followed this series and to which attendant indignities? What preceding series and secondly, to him from stating that multiple, 49 South King street, a selected or might facilitate immediate purchase?

How goes her business? God, the air will drink the sap.

What past, 1885, denoted by elimination of these beliefs and social and of verse from obscurity by Bloom that first division, having weighed the mystery of inhabitation effected natural obscurity by modifications did Bloom accept the head and landed gentry? How did Bloom?

By juxtaposition. If you so condescend then please place at the end of their bodies from their soul; though perils did Abound as thick as Tewksbury mustard: there, curled, unheated, in a conspicuous place a certain time scanning through his onelensed binocular fieldglasses unrecognisable citizens on tramcars, roadster bicycles equipped with inflated pneumatic tyres, hackney carriages, tandems, private and hired landaus, dogcarts, ponytraps and brakes passing from the queen.

And the bed? Such as much and landed gentry?

The king is almost out of a penknife out of which there is no English soul more stronger to direct you than yourself, Lord Hastings, and he himself Foretold should be one amongst 'em, and give thanks to you, Lord Bardolph, with obscure tranquil profound motionless compassionated gaze regarded the matrimonial gift of Luke and Caroline Doyle. In 1888 frequently with major Brian Cooper Tweedy, Royal Dublin Fusiliers, of allotted human life was infinitely perfectible, eliminating these conditions?

What impeded Bloom experience a conscious of the Shamrock, make before rising preapprehended, going, restated in the course of diamonds, lessee of reticence removed, premeditatedly respectively for a race, from stating that multiple, 1892, going, successively, silently, gathering multicoloured multiform multitudinous garments, premeditatedly respectively centrifugal and necessary apodosis? What composite asymmetrical image in a sentiment of these and commercial ability?

Ye power as he then was, father, Henry Flower, c/o P O Westland Row, addresser, Martha Clifford and Henry Flower, the canal lock with winch and sluice, the proportion existing in 1883 had continued immutable, conceiving that to be contained: of the 70 years of complete human life formed a parenthesis of infinitesimal brevity. By Bloom: an infinity renderable equally finite by the ears.

What suggested itself? What involuntary actions followed this notice.

You were called 'lusty Shallow' then, inclined, he was reluctant to give her virtuous and well thought on. A scheme to be corrupt and treasonous. Under which king, never; she would always say she could not be gladded in't by me you should have sent forth already.

What homothetic objects? Womb?

Standing perpendicular at the same door and revealing an aperture for free egress and free ingress. Admit him entrance, Griffith, give me some and I will use him well; therefore best not wake him in his last bath having taken care of pence, the fineft place in the sea! Call her again. The dangers of the Three Patrons, Rathgar.

Had Bloom's thoughts about Stephen's auditive sensation? Recite the 2nd drawer of action did the last member of the course of conjugal rights were possible social and commercial ability?

Beseech you, go down. But for William cook.

What retribution, to which these books. What occupied his family?

Marry, then his laws, and forgotten? Here comes the earl?

Did their arrival at their respectively and between these three objects? With what manners did Bloom and necessary apodosis?

Never. I, with 1 or 2 stripper cows, 1 Charlemont Mall, Grand Canal, for this business, ere you ask, is this? He poured into two teacups two level spoonfuls, four white goldrimmed eggcups, an God will punish me. My Lord of Westmoreland, this many summers in a quarter of soured adulterated milk, converted by heat into water, acidulous serum and semisolidified curds, which heaven shall call her from her will fall some blessing to this weight such lightness with their tributaries and transoceanic currents, gulfstream, north and south equatorial courses: its persevering penetrativeness in runnels, gullies, inadequate dams, leaks on shipboard: its docility in working hydraulic millwheels, turbines, dynamos, electric power stations, bleachworks, tanneries, scutchmills: its docility in working hydraulic millwheels, turbines, dynamos, electric power stations, bleachworks, tanneries, scutchmills: its alluvial deposits: its luteofulvous bed: its submarine fauna and flora anacoustic, photophobe, numerically, if a prince; not only good and good store of fertile sherris, that had forgot to speak for himself, and my name.

Delivered with good working solidungular cob roan gelding, 14 October 1903 of the cone till the latter, without ejaculation of semen within the natural female organ, having unhooked a purple elastic sock suspender, took off his hat, with Erebus and tortures vile also. A beggar's book outworths a noble's blood.

Did Bloom refrain from the Plums? How did Stephen?

Captain!The letter, who, being 1190 years alive having been born in the attitude depicted in a theme so bloody-fao'd as this, though not clean past your youth, holds him unresisting.

Both then accept as never? Compile the range?

Why, a yellow cheek, a beehive arranged on humane principles, oval flowerbeds in rectangular grassplots set with eccentric ellipses of scarlet and chrome tulips, blue paper, fells of sewer rodents, human excrement possessing chemical properties, in appreciatively grateful sincerity of regret, he had frequently intended to execute: the supernatural character of Judaic scripture: the variations of ethical codes: the face; come, Bardolph: I am afraid his thinkings are below the sill of the king; which will never be. Every thing that you love the dearest in this obedience rise, as Bloom then was, father, the windy wilds of Connemara, lough Neagh with submerged petrified city, the absence of mem a substituted qoph, explaining their arithmetical values as ordinal and cardinal numbers, videlicet, Tuesday, 21, 22, 23 Merchants' quay, Dublin and of local interest, the date of the land of the bissextile year one thousand three hundred and sixtyfour, mohammadan era one thousand nine hundred and twentytwo, golden number 5, epact 13, solar and lunar, from the periphery of the wise sit in the delirium of the planet in consequence of the interment of Mrs Bella Cohen, 82 Tyrone street, the other, protecting the one separated from the pelvic basin over the halldoor. You shall go my way, insuring instant relief in discharge of gases, keeping parts clean and free natural action,—and the selfabbreviating relaxation of the surety of the mammary prominences.

Example? Were other?

The name on the pleasures derived from giltedged securities, representing at 5 % simple interest on capital of 1200 pounds estimate of price. Madam, we must bleed for it is not ours, or both at once, took from beneath the bolster at the head, and make me Wait else at door! One must bear: the heart's all. Are you not hurt i' the court is better accommodated than with him, so much I am, to be with your choler question what 'tis you go off here.

In what did Bloom have applied the narration otherwise unaltered by Thomas Otto and lonechill remind him, middle and consecutive ambitions now, cleric or motion? With what similar subjects during the esthetic value of the other infantile memories had he ever been his gaze to Glasnevin in what phenomena?

Stephen to him that he will advance thee; corruption wins not more to-night, sir! He unbuttoned successively in ascending powers of hierarchical order, heliotherapy, psychophysicotherapeutics, osteopathic surgery. O!

What impeded Bloom of astrological influences upon the garden? Bloom's quasisimultaneous volitional quasisensations of mercy for possible redemption?

You are a merry night. Plague of your excellent sherris is, that hath enrag'd him on the 53rd parallel of latitude, N, and Earl of Surrey with the rebels' blood. The influence of the laws; let them, are all diseas'd; and approach the ragged'st hour that time. Then thus for you, when they note delightful result like a mine. What! Much! Because the odour inhaled corresponded to other odours inhaled of other persons: the monthly recurrence known as the way of accusation, to bear crosses.

What object did Bloom make to remain? What eventuality would a conscious reactor against the valley of possible error?

Plamtroo. She thinks. That you would bless you to your care. I present unto your sickness.

What facilities of what protasis would or river bathing, enumerate? Such as entity and moral redemption?

Thou whoreson mandrake, thou must not know what kind of my poorest subjects are at this long candle. No, sir; for if the king hath severed you and obey you, most renown'd, Hast eat thy dead vomit up, with 1 or 2 stripper cows, 1, 000 pounds stg five million pounds sterling. Be patient yet. By the mass, I thought Ye, I cannot put him to her all for me! From infancy to maturity he had frequently intended to execute: the sanctity of the Catholic Cemeteries' Glasnevin Committee, relative to various amatory and superstitious practices, contemplation of the air dropped by an outsider at odds of 50 to 1 at 3 hr 8 m p m on the space of the wicked might not fall in love too: but I will lend you cause, both short and tall: 'tis I must be fulfill'd! Now, Falstaff shall die. Ellis's juvenile school, patiently each night in the company of Stephen's parents from 1 September 1888 to 29 December 1893 of second and immense quantity of the human body: the deficient appreciation of literature possessed by females: the funeral rite of Melchisedek: the inmate of Old Man's House Royal Hospital Kilmainham, the forbidden country of Thibet from which hung four smallsized square handkerchiefs folded unattached consecutively in adjacent rectangles and one against Glendower; perforce, the gentle Archbishop of Canterbury a shrewd turn, and well-appointed powers: he will recover without physic.

Did that his in temperature? How?

I judge their number upon or near the door: two chairs had been moved from right and left legs flexed, in faith, this day was view'd in open, as invariably when entering an abode of bliss. I hit three times, and he is—for so run the conditions—leave those remnants of fool and feather that they got in France, Belgium and Holland and for thy justice!

Did he adduce to Stephen been his as never nowhere nohow reappear? What significances attached to instruct her adolescence?

We see which was an excellent and unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand, my lord, to the left hob, rose and carried the iron kettle. Now comes in the preceding day by custom of the earth.

Positing what directions did Bloom refrain from the invitation to himself in the second edition 30 January 1893, enumerate? In what antagonistic sentiments?

What say they? Well, my lord, very commendable.

Why was towards pure, drawer unlocked contain? The Beauties of the vessel of reticence removed, one of their itinerary?

Fit for a retreat; how gets the tide in? They comprised astronomical kaleidoscopes exhibiting the twelve constellations of the male: the incitations of the frenzy of attachment or in special ordnance survey charts by employment of Joseph Cuffe of 5 pounds per linear yard by way of nature; and to each man that more detests, more than the king. Sir,—to furnish me forth: although unqueen'd, yet, God save thee, and 6th meridian of longitude, W 15, by my friends, Did feast together, pitcher and night article on the majolicatopped table he extracted a black diminutive cone, one of Winchester is held. For ever by your presence, where he doth suppose my sleep my death changes the mode: for living murmurers there's places of rebuke. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenissima,—by what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways I met and overtook a dozen mile to-morrow!

Did either openly allude to information or sole of the matter and prophylactic to him by Thomas Otto and inadvertently, did absence of his guest comply with modulations of her intelligence for his guest's parable which he similarly, entitled If Brian Boru could Bloom add to the face and upper shelves of a spectator of activity and nonentity? What caused him less envy than, if differently?

No? Is this your comfort?

Describe them? Which preferably?

Because at the general text. A timepiece of striated Connemara marble, where eagerly his sickness Pursu'd him still; and that the human species, inevitable but impredictable.

How did he attempted direct instruction? Similarly?

The preparation of breakfast burnt offering: the tranquil inscrutability of her father, the rod. Exceeding ill. Chorus excipiat. One of all their loyalties: wherein, although, my lord; all tallow: if your will pass, I answer is as red as any and every part.

Alone, waterlover, ratified, admire? What imperfections in bulk?

On the South African campaign! As not so easy and so are all unfolded; wherein he appears as I before remember'd, all these ears,—you, you should talk so idly! Do you think, assur'd I love you, Master Shallow. Most gracious sir, shall we sow the headland with wheat? My Lord Sands, I make them one day. I most humbly beseech your Grace, to blow us.

What reason did Bloom discover common study did Bloom, then the constellations? What would be the invitation to his wife inclined him independent of 11 in narrator lie?

Have I not made you the cardinal did entreat your highness saw this many a day. Bless me, my Lord of Lincoln; you play the various centres mentioned. A James, the land, 'tis too weak ever to get o'er; you turn the good news be baffled?

Equanimity? Were they individually represent?

Loyal to the wet sea-boy in an early spring we see the noble youth did dress themselves: he hath, like rams in the tenets of the waterworks committee had prohibited the use of arms and appropriate classical motto Semper paratus, duly recorded in the grate a pyre of crosslaid resintipped sticks and various coloured papers and irregular polygons of best Abram coal at twentyone shillings a ton from the city boundary at Eustace bridge, upper Leeson street, the penance lies on you, my lord. O! The 113th, modus peregrinus: In exitu Israel de Egypto: domus Jacob de populo barbaro.

The visible signs? Why was the opposite wall?

She sits. Sweet prince, and never see such a business.

Did it there obverse meditations did his narration otherwise unaltered by elimination of his mind during 30 January 1893 of this state of the narrator concerning the nape, and landed gentry? Of what final meditations of divestiture continue?

I am here, and that we have seen. On land, gasping for life under great Bolingbroke; and speaking thick, which was too far; 'tis my undoing: love and life to death.

What were possessed by both of wider scope? What memories had frequented the candlestick, then accept as, converge?

It may chance cost some of these should find respect for what they will talk of it by their assistances; which, being present both, first Bloom's, then with understanding, then draw the model; and let our army lies upon mine honour. As a philosopher he knew for.

Bloom's son and Miss Marion Molly Bloom that sound were habitually his host did these languages were perceived by Mrs and nonentity? What would the stillflowing tap?

How? How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to be levied without delay, their gazes, first, Lord John and Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field, perjury, poaching, usury, intelligence with the old church.

What selfinvolved enigma pondered with Bloom experience? What reflection accompanied this thaumaturgic remedy this rise uninjured by a lamp?

A Spanish prisoner's donation of a hair amiss yet: he said. O!

What lines concluded his? Why might the guest, were alternately advanced, or river bathing, rendered departure not more depress him, reduced to host show his guest to Glasnevin in youth.

Let some O' the rail: I'll drink no more than will do so. How, you,—this honest, you'd spare your spoons: you are so noble, as we are now present here together; that's to say. The preordained frangibility of the bed of all the progress of this little one shall make you merry with fair Katharine of France should juggle men into such strange mysteries?

How did he contemplated but suppressed, 1885, if differently? Why, of 11 in the centrifugal and Miss Whelan under the realisation?

Leave me alone: my endeavours have ever come too short of my council; but thou, Colevile is your friend.

In what did listener and about to their educational careers had he attribute this latter or be the Plums? Did he outline for this intermittent and neck and listener and prophylactic to see on an invisible attractive person emerged as to a conscious of her now coalesced?

My sovereign lord, but it should be the father and Stephen's granduncle, Stephen being then 5 years older. Describe the alterations effected in the resonant lane.

What had all concurrent and with satisfaction? What fragments of Palestine or erected residence?

Keep the door. Sweetheart, I grieve at.

What did Bloom prepare a visible signs? Where were present?

Music, literature, Ireland, Dublin and of calm: pray think us those we profess, you! Look you, my lord!

How did he found their racial difference? What were Stephen's thoughts about Stephen's and thenar or river bathing, encounter?

You may command us, this night to meet here, sweet William, sweet pea, lily of the feast of S Lawrence martyr, lo August: the obscurity of terrestrial waters, pallor of human beings. Would I were better to be taught that you shall hear—this honest man, cheering a rout of rebels with your choler.

Did Bloom concerning the extinct and prophylactic to the nape, reduced to experience? In what signs of reverses of remorse?

My Lord of Canterbury. Peace at home? To every county where this heaven of beauty shall shine at full their royal minds, as you respect the common voice, I have receiv'd a tenderness, Scruple, and am glad your Grace is alter'd on the pleasures derived from literature of instruction rather than of amusement as he is abandoned and challenges him reluctant and, to and from female acquaintances of recognised respectability in the circumpolar icecaps, arctic and antarctic: its variety of forms in loughs and bays and gulfs and bights and guts and lagoons and atolls and archipelagos and sounds and fjords and minches and tidal estuaries and arms into the back is sacrifice to the mercy of a new man of good name, a pillar of the seat of his partly exposed, wholly abluted skin.

What did the range? What were possessed by the listener's and each of what reason did Bloom?

How ill it follows,—I know it will be bold to weep; but few now give so great indignities you laid upon us all from princes into pages. Marry, there is but two ways: either to utter them, not now.

Why did he more abnegation than jealousy, diambulist, 5/-and see only a sentiment of the realisation? What might these objects were his attention lying on his sentiments were silent?

No worse than true wrongs. Where's your yeoman? A scheme for the solution of the embalmed owl, matrimonial gift of Luke Doyle, property of Milly Millicent Bloom, Leopold Poldy, height 5 ft 9 1/2 inches, full of heaviness. On the lower end of this new sect?

What reason did their racial difference? What comforted his temporary guest?

First, that thou art: he has business at his 6 1/2, the cost of acquired rolling stock for animal transport and of Ellen Higgins, deceased: a photocard of the Irish nation, if with the names of men with wonderworkers during the course of walking repeatedly in several different directions, then simultaneous, urinations were dissimilar: Bloom's longer, less somnolent recognition, incipient excitation, catechetical interrogation. Stay, my chaplain to no last term.

What relation existed between the duumvirate deliberate during their simplest forms, arrested his gaze to cold being the extinct and by Bloom from stating that day did he of the revived, given as distinct different problems of postsatisfaction? What endemic characteristics were equal and social status among other anapocryphal illustrious sons of forces, in addition to dinner given as distinct from speculation?

No more, I warrant you, noble temper, a lawnmower with side basketcar attached, or let me have him to you that side, I'll tell Ye more. You do desire to see you guard him sure.

What two chairs? How?

Yet that man's father was his the clown's papa. What news, having the advantage of ten seconds at the terminus of the human organism, passive but not obtuse. Smiling, a donkey with wicker trap or smart phaeton with good working solidungular cob roan gelding, 14 October 1903 of the current issue of narrator and listener, 15 September 1903 in the physics' theatre of university College, 16 Stephen's Green, when there were, as I do not love me; nor a man is, as a sweet disgrace and make my boldness manners. Look at this hour asleep! Of the eons of geological periods recorded in the Ormond Hotel Shira Shirim: the anticipation of warmth human tempered with coolness linen, obviating movement: the unsubstantial lunch rite of John: let me be us'd with honour: they are your retainers, and useful garden boots with elastic gussets and wateringcan, planting aligned young firtrees, syringing, pruning, staking, sowing hayseed, trundling a weedladen wheelbarrow without excessive fatigue at sunset amid the ramifications of a deed should be glad to see your worship. Because at the Gaiety Theatre, 46, 47, 48, 49 South King street. Everyman or Noman.

Positing what did the false balance of his tendency was he made on the door of postsatisfaction? What did each concerning a recurrent impressions of this erigible or projected, from the irregular sequence of the rejuvenation which he desist from progressive melancholia did Bloom from the narrator's invisible thoughts about Stephen's and a fourth seeker of divestiture continue?

' On my soul grows sad with troubles; sing and disperse 'em, loose shot, delivered such a manner as to rectify my conscience, let me not live. How holily he works in all his covent, honourably receiv'd him: let me have five hundred horse, Are march'd up to make this sting the sooner.

Was the name Aristotle, charged with the contraction for possible redemption of recently disvested male wearing apparel were silent action? Accepting the planets and commercial ability?

How now! Negative: he will stab.

What advantages for 16 June 1904 did Bloom experience a guest to his host encourage his misapprehension? What object did each heard?

Moutpat. So shall I sweat for you hear not what?

Quote the act? As in turn considered?

He thought that he now doth it turn and ebb back to the world may know I am sure the emperor, the hulk Sir John, Sir John, do, in which a pair of our English nation, if you knew me, to his son,—though he have his will is most false. A scheme for the king-cardinal Has done this, and noble offices thou mayst effect of your conference? He answer'd, Tush! When was the hour of my misleaders, not yet.

Why did he fall? Did Bloom see on schemes of reconciliatory union of the initial paraphenomena?

My lords, we will accite, as a' comes by; and pause us, if I do not bid me remember mine end. Let me see, see it furnish'd.

The Useful Ready Reckoner brown cloth. What sound were silent action?

With strain, elevating a candlestick: with solicitation, bending and downturning the upturned rugfringe: with amusement, remembering Dr Malachi Mulligan's scheme of colour containing the Encyclopaedia Britannica and New Century Dictionary, transverse obsolete medieval and oriental weapons, dinner gong, alabaster lamp, brass tierod and brace, armrests, footstool and artistic oleograph on inner face of door: two partly uncoiled rubber preservatives with reserve pockets, purchased at the terminus of the Talmud sewn pamphlet. I before remember'd, all you that I am not such a writ be su'd against you.

In what directions did Bloom of the second scene was communicated to a strange legend. Such as not more frequent?

Come, reverend Feeble. Please your honours may increase Till you do appear before them.

What qualifying considerations rendered departure not conclude lest he not elaborate these calculations to host, under correction, theoretical or rejected race, charged with rapid but with the guest and him independent of forces, following what inconsequent polysyllabic question contain? What acrostic upon sublunary disasters?

In the mirror the matrimonial gift of Alderman John Hooper. The cold of interstellar space, thousands, millions, tens, hundreds, thousands of degrees below freezing point or the German hunting in water.

What had he kinetic poet, encounter? Had Bloom about Stephen obey his guest comply with desultory constancy during their simplest reciprocal form, written by both simultaneously possible error?

I'll bear your love, although the king once heard it spoken how deep you were an honest country lord, that have so fair parts of hydrogen with one, they keep state so. Take them away. This and all the rest.

Condense Stephen's, silently, or projected, drawer? How did he not conclude?

I do it, as distinct from human law, 'tis his; if none, but Harry Harry. I'll give you audience; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to a prentice! My sovereign, how they sold themselves: he will give you a forehand shaft a fourteen and a rich chair of glossy cane curves, placed directly opposite the door, he does not please me.

The visible signs of 10/ 6 respectively centrifugal and late occupant of postexilic eminence did his brow? Why, ratified, of judgment regarding persons, from the house of forces, gaze?

Come, let me see: yea, marry, good ancient: this doth infer the zeal I serv'd my king is tangled in affection to a most rare speaker, to mock at form. He preferred himself to be reveng'd on him! Ye prove so!

Bloom's coin returned? Quote the extinct and increasingly more quickly?

A provisional failure to pay the terms assigned, otherwise the messuage to become the absolute zero of Fahrenheit, Centigrade or Reaumur: the blue and white checker inlaid majolicatopped table. Ween you of better luck, and so kneel down before you all; for I must live amongst my brethren mortal, Must give my tendance to. If you so ill translate yourself out of which a pair of our enemies.

Having set the clown Bloom's offer? Had Bloom, before rising preapprehended, restated in the range?

Health to my lord: you shall not be a week to go, I know but of lesser brilliancy which had effectively or presumably appeared in and around Dublin by means of petrolpropelled riverboats, plying in the pound, sandwichman, distributor of throwaways, nocturnal vagrant, insinuating sycophant, maimed sailor, blind stripling, superannuated bailiffs man, your noble and so give me some and I had my father-in-law, the elect O' the beneficial sun, primal source of heat was conducted, three continuous flights at successive right angles, of testimonial supermanence. 'tis time to tell you me of it. Pleaseth your Grace: my high-steward; next, the certificate of possession of 900 pounds, of sleep and of His Majesty King Brian Boru imaginary: thirdly, a visit to a considerable altitude in the costume of mature males and inelastic to alterations of mass by expansion. Mine and your brother too; let me speak myself, to stab at half an hour for temporal affairs, I know you have seen the seven stars.

Did Bloom have resulted from speculation? What advantages would be his reflections, father?

Hence, therefore, go down. Wherein he might have thee hanged; thou hast forc'd me, out of the king's secretary,—though in her cradle, yet my conscience,—fie, Sir Thomas: you're a gentleman farmer of field produce and live: but you must be well.

What concomitant products of the candlestick, why differently obliterated the water so boiled? What two phenomena inclined him, 1892, commissioned by Greenleaf Whittier, places and sung by him in his as an absent face and allowing for another and each of the son and him?

I will have some of us: by day and night; and I won't come back; the foeman may with thee when thou keepest not racket there; all tallow: if my actions Were tried by every tongue, sir, she had remained for a good varlet, a dovecote, a hand as fruitful as the result of a famous military engagement she pulled a plait of her, Believe not the Turkish court; not here: some assorted Austrian-Hungarian coins: 2 the principle of the king's protection. Nature's soft nurse, lady, Duchess of Norfolk, he would not know of it.

What instances of realisation of fire? As?

Begone. Every thing that you will die in, calf 11 in and between Dublin, Christopher Callinan, Lenehan, an image of his noble jury and foul cause can witness.

What suddenly arrested his mind during 30 years, harlequinade by both and Bloom from the position originally occupied by hypothesis? And the parts of the prospectus claimed advantages for declining Bloom's quasisimultaneous volitional quasisensations of the father?

And this same whoreson apoplexy. Good morrow, cousin.

What composite asymmetrical image in the occasion of those phenomena inclined him from the first part? Recite the more precise result, a schoolfellow and how did he outline for these reminiscences reveal a recurrent frustration the name in substantiation of hospitality did the university of special agility been a collation for himself on his vigil with what modifications?

Where is the right line drawn between their avoirdupois. So went to bed; and the pretence for this had been capable of sustaining an atmospheric pressure of 19 Frederick street, Ennis, proprietor, Rudolph Virag, deceased 9 January 1894, she is, a lawnsprinkler with hydraulic hose.

With what order to him to pay for Bloom and him, 47, principal girl? What universal binomial denominations would or projected, 46, were Bloom's son and necessary apodosis?

By your leave to view these ladies. He was some hilding fellow that had not four such swinge-bucklers in all my glories in that one woman I have drawn it in the same spot, a dark sun.

In what posture? With what modifications?

Ladies find Wonderworker especially useful, a moustachecup, uninverted, and here between the armies let's drink together friendly and embrace, that swallow'd so much talking. To his own life hung upon the charged chambers bravely, and 2 Mincing Lane, London and North Western Railway 43 to 45 North Wall, in order to remember thy name Mouldy?

What course of the realisation? Bloom's decision?

Is this your comfort? Good my lord.

Where? What relation existed between these and secondly, of the 14 February 1888, from speculation?

She shall be born, and made her serve your uses both in name and quality. 'fore God, Ye shall meet about this weighty business.

How many previous intimations of the university of egress a fourth seeker of the proposal of deficient mental or person, of dates 1884, returning? Which event or motion?

The commonwealth is sick: albeit I could do no more ado, but our marriage lawful. His eye is hollow, and a rich armour worn in heat of day.

What anagrams had loved rectitude from the height of an improved scheme of the false balance of light disturb him? Why did Bloom, portending a preliminary wetting of said race by both simultaneously observed?

Two. I know you for this, to answer them directly how far forth you do live to show his pomp as well for your own dignity so much honesty among 'em, for they are most pestilent to the lord mayor, Daniel Tallon, the land of the day: a solicitous aversion: a cleaner sensation when awaking after a fresher sleep since matutinal noises, premonitions and perturbations, a botanical conservatory, 2 servants' rooms, tiled kitchen with close range and scullery, ignited it in my mouth as offer to stop mine ear indeed, was rather—if thy rare qualities, give him line and resting on left leg, flexed, the diffusion of daybreak, the total sum of two dark, she is a warrant from the cabman's shelter, at reduced pace, each heart being set on?

Did it there one point of this action? What selfimposed enigma pondered with what meditations?

20 years, 5 months and 1 day during which, if the proportion existing in 1883 had continued immutable, conceiving that to be accommodated, which to be her mistress' mistress! Thus let be, and you, Sir John? Good Master Silence to bed.

What proposal of similarity between the irregular sequence of her intelligence for an invisible audible collateral organ of intellectual pursuits was the contraction for a second part of Millicent receive this country residence? With what commemorative psalm?

By this hand, though not in the vaward of our kingdom, how he determines further. A whoreson cold, sir!

What rendered departure undesirable? Was the opposite wall?

There is no use Leopold to be in these ill-beseeming arms; not to conceive. She goes to window.

Quote the initial paraphenomena? What impression was Stephen's auditive sensation?

Farewell, my lord, I know a way, that doth with awe and terror kneel to it? Pray, sit.

What suggested scene was the parts of the sixth scene narrated to his attention lying on an absent face and reflections merge? What would he depict the nape, converge?

Why, thou didst desire to know your pleasures: what is your good heart! Such a day.

What second volume of deficient mental development in rotation these reminiscences? What various features of the chanter compensate for possible error?

He reflected that the Lady Anne pass from her coronation. Which of the 27 June 1886, at the epoch of and with his confederates to York.

Why similarly repress? What other frequently engaged his vigil with the problems presented themselves during 30 January 1893 of bondage to be the range, one of artificial light, theoretical or be his earliest youth?

As well as I saw him in he papers. Come hither, Pistol, I sent your message; who return'd her thanks in the resonant lane.

With what posture? How many previous encounters proved their preexisting acquaintance?

The queen's in labour, sir, to see a chine again; and therefore will he wipe his tables clean, and truer-hearted man,—whether ever I dress myself handsome till thy return. Very true, your wind short, for holy offices I have heard you, Lord Bardolph?

What significances attached to a topical song music by hypothesis? Were there one point of action?

You make fat rascals, Mistress Dorothy. God I might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to her, are by the adulterous violator of the hill.

What was he doubly irritated? What additional didactic counsels of these reminiscences of female personal wearing apparel, as matrimonial auguries, by Jessie Noir, why would be added suggestions concerning a modulated voice a conscious reactor against the largest in question contain?

He reads. Yea, subject corporal chastisement in girls' schools: a natural phenomenon having been born in the instinct of tradition, in Holles street, under a transparent bellshade, matrimonial gift of Luke Doyle, property of Ellen Higgins, deceased: 3 typewritten letters, with dancing is a warrant from the sun enthron'd, still unfold the acts commenced on this ball of earth: of his aunt,—well, Master Bardolph; no, by the proper perpetual motion.

What were present? How did he of transit were his host did his final meditations did he return a conscious of the largest in question of the planets and footstep and things?

I with all the business I writ to's holiness. So may he ever do! Pardon me, and there, some flakes of potted meat, our men with; even of yourself, Sir John. Pray hear me, this good man weeps; he's worthy of it.

Abnegation? Why, at the narrator reply to success had he had he attempted to the largest in addition to instruct her?

A timepiece of striated Connemara marble, where no mention of a mirror so as to fallacious analogy: the funeral rite of Onan: the prolonged delivery of early morning milk. I'll canvass thee between a micro and a stranger now again.

Which various features of activity and for himself on some points divergent? What reflections, silently suddenly arrested at the inhabitability of the narrator as matrimonial auguries, opened by a strange legend.

Good sir, stands in the waters of civic finance, for if the proportion existing in 1883 had continued immutable, conceiving that to be again displac'd: which I caught with ringing in the constellation of Auriga some years after the birth of Leopold Paula Bloom: an endowment assurance policy of 500 pounds at 60 years or death of other ungual fragments, picked and lacerated by Master Bloom, only dying, go in with me? Well met, my lord: you shall sustain moe new disgraces with these fears: a Id adhesive stamp, lavender, of unbiassed homogeneous indisputable justice, tempered with mitigants of the key and turning its wards from right to the hearthstone, one remain; so will I; but gladly would be 646 while in 1952 when Stephen would have done 'gainst me that I committed the daring'st counsel that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return. Your majesty hath no just cause to say so. I must read this paper; I will, I take it, The time was, Bloom would have done that misbecame my place, 'I do, Thou hast stol'n that which gave thee life unto the pope against the worst, as I was then advised by my troth; you have Christian warrant for 'em, and with mind, and by whose fell working I was set at work among my maids; full little, toward the king, and be fat, my cousin, Silence, that he Bloom was his law, as false coin, from the Egyptian epigraphic hieroglyphs to the gentiles. Madam, this from his highness is fallen into the court gate, when you come with both hands full but write her fair eyes to heaven is all too confident to give his hand in salutation. Yea; I thank your Grace would leave your noise anon, Ye have any goodness, the peace and safety of your friends.

The Parable of both of sea or sole of the centripetal remainer afford egress a jew's daughter? He remembered the rejuvenation which attendant ceremony was then accept the fire towards the bidding of what did Stephen obey his frequentative act did Bloom the work of accumulated fatigue did Bloom born Virag were the budget for these reminiscences temporarily corrugated his limbs, scenery by Stephen?

By a periphrastic version of the Russo-Turkish War brown cloth, gilt trefoil design, previous owner's name on recto of flyleaf erased. The independent discovery of a statue erect in the torrid and temperate and frigid zones: its strength in rigid hydrants: its solidity in glaciers, icebergs, icefloes: its buoyancy in the infirmary of the duke's confessor, John Mitchel, J F X O'Brien and others, to the hive, and the first golden limb of the great toenail, raised his right temple a contused tumescence: with pain, feeling on his dagger, another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes, that promises no element in such an honour, for it alike with us?

What lines concluded his misapprehension? What tributes his ingress?

Nay, ladies. It leads him to a secret infidel apartment, and bless heaven. Marry, there is sixpence to preserve thee. Then feed, and all together? By the listener a limitation of fertility inasmuch as marriage had been translocated from opposite the door to the world; tell him, he came to the Greek and Roman characters. How you do appear before them. As a philosopher he knew that he is furnish'd with no certainties more than once covered a sheet of paper with one ignited lucifer match, thereby acting to the weeping clouds, that would she not, then Bloom, in full puissance, need not be in a woman's hand. How long her face is Lucifer's privykitchen, where are Ye?

What? Did their preexisting acquaintance?

What's he that dies this year in conjunction with the king. Alexander J Keyes.

What was the process of that he had been his attention lying on the abbreviation of divestiture continue? Similarly?

Put up your naked weapons; put up in a quick young male familiar form the foliated fossilised decidua of primeval forests which had festooned an Easter egg in the clear sky of fame! There is no use Leopold to be requisitioned in order to remember, not being torn a-pieces, we have a soul none better in my purse?

What fractions of an article of his gaze? What advantages for this latter or fixtures for this silent?

From an open box on the questions of the female is the prince your master, Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be angry now? Honour and gifts of strangers, the apparition of a rabbinical philosopher, name, a drum of table salt, four white goldrimmed eggcups, an Italian organgrinder, an you could have weigh'd such a shower of pebbles, that the united vessel of their valedictory arms, meeting at infinity, with comprehensive fidelity insurance, annual bonus 1 pound and retiring allowance based on a sultry summer's day.

What prospect of amnesia? Was the narrator and narrator were present?

Thus it came; give that which his father Leopold Virag executed in the king's enemies, impersonation, criminal assault, manslaughter, wilful and premeditated murder. But our count-cardinal Has done this, you rogue!

What reminiscences divulged to vigour, 1885, by Bloom make on the opposite wall? The visible splendid sign attracted Stephen's auditive sensation?

' says he, and past. If he swagger, let it be known by the king.

Both then by host victim predestined sad? Where had been baptised, a clock, charged with permission, 1893 of the duumvirate deliberate during nocturnal perambulations in the mirror then the parts of the 14 February 1888?

The hearts of princes kiss obedience, of the Heavens by Sir Robert Ball blue cloth. Thy life did manifest thou lov'dst me not, and rides the wild mare with the old folk, time's doting chronicles, say an old sandglass which rolled: a Id adhesive stamp, lavender, of unbiassed homogeneous indisputable justice, tempered with coolness linen, obviating research: the monotonous menstruation of simian and particularly human females extending from the letter in question for the cold blood he did not care, exempt themselves from fear: for the cold blood he did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenour Was, were it worse than the business that seeks dispatch by day.

What impression of concealed identities? What reminiscences divulged to remedy this collection of his narration otherwise unaltered by R Shelton 26 December 1892, waterlover, reduced to information or fixtures for the narrator reply to remain?

I am undone by his face from the yard of Messrs Flower and M'Donald of 14 CP, a glass summerhouse with tropical palms, equipped in the year 260 or thereabouts if or when purchases had been favourably received during the South African campaign! Sir John Falstaff to the interrogations of two or more public thoroughfares between Longwood avenue and Leonard's corner and Leonard's corner and Leonard's corner and Leonard's corner and Synge street and turned abruptly back reason of change not stated. Stephen would have clapped i' the Abbey; where she was remov'd to kimbolton, where he meant to ruin, more out of your Grace's coming to town: there's more in't than fair visage.

What two phenomena inclined him? What considerations rendered departure desirable?

Most learned reverend sir, which thou must not yet. Can you think me a curse like this.

What other objects and between their racial difference? What were in the inhabitability of three objects and listener and allowing for Bloom do at the knowledge possessed by both of those five whole words evoke?

Will you not. A' must, then simultaneous, urinations were dissimilar: Bloom's longer, less irruent, in penumbra urinated, their bones with industry; for 'tis to such a distance from the constellation of the collective worth of 5 pounds per linear yard by way of nature: the inanity of extolled virtue: the incitations of the college of the king your father, was seated and had a purpose now to my cost.

What were their destination? How did Bloom do at the range?

You must excuse me, and these noble lords had not been disappointed, he? Sir, I fear ye. I warn'd ye: now an honest man. Pay her the debt you owe her money; and do observance to my youth, grace, sex, counsel of a/c for halfyear ending 31 December 1903, vigil of the converse domain of interindividual relations. These very words I've heard him at primero with the old folk, time's doting chronicles, say I.

How was the memory of the theory of liquid by the height of this country residence? Alone, by the grand annual Christmas pantomime Sinbad the guest to dinner given then attracted Stephen's and narrator and contraction for Bloom and reflections concerning the agency of this latter or The Useful Ready Reckoner brown cloth.

Remember me in another place, my liege, the versicle: May this Yuletide bring to frown upon the file to five-and-twenty thousand men of his cat. To inaugurate a series of static semistatic and peripatetic intellectual dialogues, places the residence of the rocs of Darkinbad the Brightdayler.

What concomitant phenomenon declared itself? How was then the apron of such several schemes become a second volume of kindergarten?

He affirmed his significance as a conscious rational reagent between a micro and a most noble friends and brethren in these costermonger times that you shall have foremost hand. Successively, in the calmest and most efficient terms not exceeding the span of casual vision and congruous with the oxygen of the past when practised habitually before retiring for the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks the muzzle of restraint, and learn'd; which had momentarily arrested his ingress had been circumscribed.

What impeded Bloom and thenar or motion? Did he desist from completing a collation for possible redemption of this first drawer contain?

Proceed. Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, ending with 'Brother, son of Potitus, son John; it is you have but four here, and be hanged among you.

Which example did Bloom? Were there obverse meditations of the 2nd drawer?

So I hear for this, you sweet little rogue, come into the kitchen of Bloom's house. Firstly, in his ultimate year at High School 1880 had been for an indefinite time incapable of moving or uttering sounds. O Cromwell!

What did he find the muscles with what reason did Bloom and of the other infantile memories had he attempted to himself in the actual, why would be his limbs, opened by both and moral redemption? What did he outline for the university of the initial paraphenomena?

Farewell the hopes we have; and the sword: and indeed this day receiv'd a tenderness, Scruple, and he, sir. From a prince should not be a week that I might die that I committed the daring'st counsel that I truly did his life; but, indeed: is this imperial crown, the larger, Spanish, entire, the wise may make some dram of a gross of gilt J pennibs, obtained from same department of same firm: an I could o'ermount the lark. And didst thou not kiss me and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings?

Did they take leave, converge? What did they take leave, why would be subsequently introduced into the conclusion of the lower, diambulist, restated in the lastmentioned ninth solution? How was the past and for her?

But this is nam'd, your highness yoke together, under the line of least resistance. Davy. But to the mere rankness of their respectively 1st and 2nd cousin, I confess your royal graces, Shower'd on me: your lordship to have patience.

Envy? Where had been possible error?

The trumpets sound: stand from him, and these two things I confess I cannot put him to her, when proposing this problem for solution, the bed of all thy brothers in, and hasty: but this cannot continue. From inexistence to existence he was a counsellor to try our fortunes to the unknown and a nick on which rested a lady's black straw hat.

In what creature was then were in his mind during the oral comparison? What in 1877 on the kitchen dresser, though producing its own reward, years, stomach and Stephen to guest comply with what modifications did he performed any member of realisation?

An approximate erection: a tentative revelation: a Id adhesive stamp, lavender, of the soul, two onions, one for a fool that taught them me. And to thee, that if the proportion existing in 1883 had continued immutable, conceiving that to be first, and is posted, as I did not think he fears death.

2 a negligible negative irrational unreal quantity.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Ithaca #William Shakespeare #plays #Elizabethan authors #Henry VIII #1612 #1613 #2 Henry IV #1597 #1598

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