#living alone is awesome till i have to feed myself

[lapis-not-lazuli]

Lapis doodle done on my train ride :3

[jokertrap-ran]

[Stand My Heroes] 花ざかりのSwallow tail (Swallow Tail in Full Bloom) Event Story: Investigation ① Translations

*Master-list will be created In the future *MC name is retained default Izumi Rei *Scenerio Writer:  @benihara_k  (紅原香)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Investigation 1: Chapter 1

It was 3 o’clock, a time where even the plants and fauna were asleep-- Not really; but it was pretty late into the night. A certain scheme was unfolding within one of the rooms in the Kujo Manor.

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Kirishima: LET OUT SECRET STRATEGIC MEETING BEGIN!!!

Kaname: That’s clearly not the volume you should be speaking in if you want to keep this secret...Anyway, where’s Kiyoshi-san?

Kirishima: He said that he can’t come due to work.

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Shindo: Pass me the Record of the Proceedings later. I’ll go through them.

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Kirishima: ...So, he says.

Kaname: Understood.

Kaname: So what’s the agenda here?

Kirishima: I was thinking of doing something for Miyase since we’re always causing him trouble on our end.

Kirishima: I mean, he feeds us good food on a daily basis and makes all of our rooms sparkling clean.

Kirishima: We’re able to live in such comfort everyday thanks to him.

Kirishima: Long story short , I want to do something big.

Kirishima: SOMETHING THAT GOES KINDA LIKE CRACKLE-BOOM-POW!

Kirishima: ...Kinda like that sorta.

Kaname: That’s not of much help though.

Kirishima: No, it’s plenty, don’t you think!?

Kujo: It’s fine. I can tell that you’re thankful towards Go, at least.

Kirishima: As expected of you, Kujo-san! It must be the tension!

Kaname: (He could tell just from that…?)

Kujo: If we had to convey our gratitude for him not in words, but through actions,

Kujo: Perhaps it would be prudent for us to create a space for him where he can relax and take his mind off. 

Kirishima: ...Something relaxing…? Then how about a trip to the Hot Springs…?

Kujo: I see. It could also very well be something overseas.

Kujo: There are also a couple of great Hot Springs located in Italy and Hungary.

Kujo: How does renting one of those Hot Spring Facilities sound?

Kirishima: That’ll certainly be an amazing feat!

Kujo: And then, after he has thoroughly relaxed from the Hot Springs, how about calling in a Top-Notch Chef and treating him to a scrumptious full-course?

Kujo: Maybe we should also get him a special seat to the Opera and grace his ears with wonderful singing.

Kirishima: That’s great! Kujo-san! Let’s just roll with that!

Kaname: Hold up. Don’t you think that’s taking things a little too far?

Kirishima: Can’t we do that?

Kaname: It’s not that we can’t, but since it’s a party for him…

Kaname: Wouldn’t it be better if we do things based off things he likes?

Kujo: Things that he likes…

Kujo: How about the garden that he takes care of?

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Investigation 1: Chapter 2

Kirishima: I think that’s a super duper great idea!

Kaname: Then how about we hold a Garden Party?

Kujo: I see; that’s a brilliant idea.

Kujo: However, it’s boring to simply just hold a party.

Kaname: What if we add on a concept to it then?

Kujo: ...Come to think of it, there’s something called a Butlers’ Cafe.

Kujo: I’ve seen it on TV before.

Kujo: It’s a place where people serve their customers with hospitality whilst dressed as Butlers; just as the name implies.

Kujo: I think it’ll make for a pretty interesting idea.

Kaname: Wait, so we’re going to be holding a butler-themed party?

Kujo: Indeed. We shall become butlers and serve him with hospitality.

Kujo: I think that this is the best bet we have to show him how grateful we are to him, don’t you think?

Kirishima: I think you’ll look super duper cool dressed as a sheep, Kujo-san!

Kirishima: I’m sure he’ll also be appeased and pleased by how fluffy you’ll be!

Kaname: Butlers, not sheep. They’re someone who takes care of others.

Kirishima: What’s with that; how confusing!

Kirishima: Alright, let’s decide who else we should call in on our plan!

Kirishima: It’s a party for him, so I want to do it with a bang.

Kujo: Of course, I’m sure he’ll be happy if it’s a lively party.

Kirishima: ‘Kay. I’ll tell Shindou about it later!

Kujo: We’ll be leaving that to you, Kirishima. Do tell him when the next meeting is scheduled too.

Kujo: Let’s see...how about next week, same day and time?

Kujo: There are still a lot of things we have to think about.

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Investigation 1: Chapter 3

Kirishima: I’m glad we were able to decide on something so soon thanks to Kujo-san and Kaname!

Kirishima: Still, all this thinking has got me hungry. Maybe I should search the fridge and see if there’s anything edible in there.

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Miyase: Oh, Kirishima-san! Good evening.

Kirishima: Miyase, you’re still awake at this hour?

Miyase: I’m planning on making Meatloaf tomorrow, so I’m in the middle of preparing it right now.

Kirishima: Ohh! Sounds delicious!

Miyase: Yup. It’s something that I’m confident in making, myself.

Kirishima: (To think that he’s been preparing for it till this late...)

Kirishima: (We really do have to thank him properly for his hard work everyday. I’ll definitely make this party of ours a success!)

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Investigation 1: Chapter 4

--A couple of days later.

Sugano: Good work today! Here are the files you asked for.

Rei: Yes, these are the ones.

Sugano: Say, did you receive an invitation too?

Sugano: The one for the “Thank you Miyase Party”?

Rei: Well, everyone in the Narcotics department got one.

The multitude of invitations sent to the Investigation Planning Division. Written inside an envelope that had been sealed with a red wax seal was:

“We have decided to cordially hold a thank you party for Miyase Go, a member of the Kujo Family.”

“We’d be honoured if everyone who has been under his care participates in this party.”

Sugano: Oh, same here. Say, this invitation was also sent out to others asides from the Narcs and the Investigation Planning Division, right?

Rei: I think so. Most probably.

Imaoji: If that’s so, then I think that they sent out quite a number of these invitations.

Sugano: I don’t really get it but it does sound fun.

Sugano: I plan on going, but what about you two?

Rei: I’m going. I’m definitely participating in his thank you party.

Imaoji: I’ll go too if she’s going.

Sugano: Yay! A Kujo Family party sounds like it’ll be something awesome!

Sugano: I'm sure the food will be great! And it'll probably be real extravagant too! Plus, lots of celebrities will be there~

Imaoji: A party held by the Kujo Family is almost certainly guaranteed to be a big thing.

Sugano: Whee~ I can't wait! Oh, right! Tsukasa-san said that he's coming too.

Asagiri: Only because I'm worried if Natsuki's going there alone.

Sugano: Eh~ I'll be fine! I always have good table manners.

Rei: Is Arakida-san and Hattori-san going as well?

Sugano: Sousei has something on that day so he won't be going. And as for You-san…

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Hattori: Maybe, if I feel like it.

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Sugano: So he says.

Rei: Ahaha, that's just like him to say that…

Asagiri: How about your end?

Rei: Everyone says that they'd love to participate if they could make the time for it, but…

Rei: Seki-san and Natsume-kun say that their participation depends on how the cases they're involved in proceeds, I suppose.

Rei: Seems like they're going to be headed to a location near the mountains for their cases.

Imaoji: And Watabe-san did mention before that he had a dinner scheduled on the day itself.

Asagiri: What about that guy?

Rei: That guy? Who…?

Asagiri: I'm talking about Aoyama.

Rei: It seems like he's free on the day so he's willing to attend.

Asagiri: ...I see.

Rei: (He looks really disgruntled…)

Rei: (Come to think of it, I wonder who else is coming?)

───⋅𝕿𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊…⋆⋅☆

[howcanibebetter2]

This is the second part of the church study that I am supposed to know. I had an awesome time reading John 10-17 today, but I will not be sharing it till much later. 

Romans 6:3-4

Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.

The importance of baptism is to be part of God’s family. It is also part of the way to join a church. Before knowing what it means to join a church, I thought it was just a ritual until I feel that I know the whole of the bible front to back. I also thought I could be a christian just by mere faith rather than get baptised. I didn’t know any better about what baptism is and no one taught me. After baptism, it shows that the person is fully committed to God and would not take on their old ways like laziness, apathy, lovelessness, loneliness, negativity, guilt tripping, drunkeness, being lost and aimless etc. Their whole life is now dedicated to God’s will and church. It doesn’t walk alone in their faith.

Ephesians 4:4-6

There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.

The body here means the church. So there are not that many denominations. There is only one church. God’s church. There is no other baptism that could save except for baptising into Jesus’ name. There is not many hopes out there. Not every route leads to heaven, only Jesus. The first time I was baptised, I was baptised into the church of England, so technically that isn’t what God has intended so that is just like any other public bath. It doesn’t have God in the center. God wasn’t my father and I was still putting my faith in my education and career. God isn’t over all, through all or in all of my life if I could rely on my ability to study to feed myself and love myself.

Romans 12:4

For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function

Going to church is not just filling up the empty seats. All members play a part to bring other people to the truth and to have faith in God. Jesus is known to be the God that provides unity to all men and preaches love. The church should be embodying unity, not cliques and factions and selfish ambition. Each member should know their role in the church and be involved in any kind of duty. It isn’t just the preacher who goes around and speak to everyone in the congregation. Everyone should have a testimony about how they came to know God and how God has changed them. I won’t say I didn’t find my testimony, it took me some time to be grateful enough to share it just because my sins were not as obvious as sexual immorality. I need God for heart sins. Not going to church would mean someone else who does not believe in God would not have had the opportunity to know someone who has a similar background to them spiritually or physically. When someone decides to no longer follow God and go out to sin, it should hurt the church on a heart level because they are unique to the church and it should hurt because it is like losing a family member. I have church hopped so much that I do not even need to feel like I belong in any church because no one cares and its just because churches do not treat me like I am valued. I am not down on them because it just proves that I need God and I need God to be in the church that I go to.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

T&L part 4: New friends and new enemies

Word count: 1950

Word count: 1950

Part five

Friendship is born at the moment when one man says to another “What! You too? I thought that no one but myself. - C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Sam’s POV

When Arya told me about her dream I found it weird that she was dreaming about what’s clearly a silver wolf and at the very end a blood sucker. I felt a strong need to shift into my wolf form and get the pack to scout the area just to make sure we have no unwanted guests like the damn redhead we kept chasing for months now.

At least with the Cullens around again we can catch a break again since they’re hunting her too. As I turned to leave the room she told me I was being a good big brother which gave me a much needed boost of confidence for my newly found sibling skills. Emily followed me down to the kitchen and I swiftly turned around to give her a long passionate kiss.

„I love you Ems, and I love how great you are with her. Thank you for being the best damn imprint in the world.“

„I love you too hun, and as for Arya, I already feel like she’s my sister too. Which is why I am not going to be too clingy and let you go and talk to the pack. I know you’re going to sweep the area for a possible threat because of her dream.“

„I have no idea why she’s dreaming of wolves and the blood suckers when she’s only been here for two nights, but I’m going to make sure she’s safe, that you’re safe. It rattled me a little, and I know I should tell her about the whole wolf thing, I just don’t know how to tell her without scaring her away.“

„I think she won’t be scared so easily, call it a woman’s intuition“, she said with a coy smile, „i just have a feeling she might be a lot more than just your sister, but that’s just my opinion.“

„Oh, God no Ems, imagine one of those idiots imprinting on her, I’d probably lose it.“

„No, you wouldn’t, and they are not idiots, you’re just being overprotective. Did you tell them about her at all?“

„Yeah, couldn’t hide her in the mind link, plus Embry and Paul were on patrol when we were on the beach and they saw us walking, they only saw the back of her head, but they heard us talking for the most part. Hell I think she almost saw them in the trees. They don’t know how she looks but they know about her. I made sure they keep their mouth shut about it all, don’t wanna lose her trust.“

„I think they will like her, after she gets over the initial shock of a pack of half-naked guys running around, I think she’ll like them too.“

„Let’s hope so. Now give me a kiss so I have something to hold onto for a few hours.“

„Gather up everyone. I want to do a general sweep of the woods and our borders. Embry and Quil take the Forks border, Leah and Seth take the south and west, Paul and Jake check for nomads till the Canadian border just to make sure and I’ll handle the beach area.“

„Why do we have to go all the way to Canada?!“ Paul growled.

„What’s with the sweep anyways, we haven’t seen the redhead in weeks?“ Jake and Leah ask simultaneously.

„We are the protectors of our land and people, and just because we didn’t find a vampire on our territory in a few weeks doesn’t mean there isn’t one roaming around. Do your duties and don’t complain. After you’re done come over for breakfast, Arya has some business to do in Forks, so it’s safe, but you can’t stay for long. Jake and Paul, sorry, but by the time you get back it will be too late, so just text me with a report. Now, you have your orders, go.“

„This is so awesome“, Seth exclaims.

„Shut up!“ everyone shouts at the same time while Seth just whines.

„Leave the kid alone everyone, at least someone’s enjoying himself“, Embry defends.

„Less talking, more scouting, be careful“, I remind them.

After the run we all run up to the house.

„We’re starving“ Jared moaned.

„Look at us, just skin and bones“, Embry complained.

„Feed us Emily, take pity on the poor souls that stand before you“, Quil whined.

I walked up to Emily to kiss her before Leah comes in since I don’t want to make things any harder for  her then they already are. I hate that I broke her heart, but I can make sure I don’t make it worse.

And right on cue she walks in with a scowl on her face I used to adore so much.

„Where are Paul and Jake?“ my lovely imprint inquiries.

„Sent them to the Canadian border, it will take them till late afternoon to come back and after that Jake will probably go hang out with Bella while Paul goes to see Rachel.“

„Well, I don’t have anything ready for you guys yet since I didn’t know you were coming today, but I have a batch of muffins in the oven so hold on for just bit, grab an apple or something.“

The guys were all frowning, obviously missing Emily’s cooking and the apple suggestion made them frown even deeper which brought a smile on my face. They’re all still just teenagers refusing to eat fruit and vegetables like they are…..My train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a sound I definitely didn’t expect to hear yet. It was Arya and she was home way too early.

„Keep your mouths shut about what you know, and no wolf jokes!“ I whispered harshly waiting for her to appear at the door.

As she came in, her lips parted as a small gasp escaped her, her face looked like she was a deer caught in the headlights. She was slowly looking at all the guys and Leah in shock, her face becoming more red by the minute.

Embry soon noticed her holding a few pizza’s and a bag full of snacks and walked right up to her with Jared following close behind.

„Hey there gorgeous“, they said at the same time. „I’m Jared“, „and I am Embry“, they both introduced themselves as Embry put an arm around her which caused her to tense up and get an even darker shade of red on her cheeks.

„Don’t worry, I don’t bite….at least not hard“, Embry whispered as she looked to me with wide eyes.

„Okay, new rule, NO FLIRTING WITH MY SISTER.“ I slightly rose my voice making sure they knew she was off limits.

„No problem, but, I get to claim her as my best friend since she came here bearing not one, but two pizza’s while I’m starving, she’s like a freaking fairy godmother or something.“ Embry said.

„Doesn’t that make you a Disney princess?“ Arya finally spoke up with a smirk, shaking his arm off her shoulders and walked all the way inside setting all the food she brought on the table while everyone in the room snickered. „Ooooh buuuuuurn!“ Seth hollered as Embry placed his hand over his heart and put a fake hurt expression on his face and dramatically cried out: “That hurts, hurts deep!“

She laughed and shook her head with amusement. I could tell she already liked them which felt like a huge stone was off my chest.

„Well, dig in boys!“ she said.

„Yeaaaaah“, they all shouted at the same time, all but Leah who was watching her with a grimace.

I decided to officially introduce her to everyone.

„Arya, these are my friends, Jared and Embry you’ve already met, Seth and Leah, sitting on the couch and Quil in the corner. There are two more, but you’ll have to meet them some other time I guess, they’re busy today.“

„Nice to meet you all, I look forward getting to know you, but for now eat up while I go change into something more comfortable.“  She winked and quickly walked away.

Arya’s POV

Oh, God that was so awkward. First of all, why the hell does everyone in this town look like they’ve been chiseled from mountains into unnaturally gorgeous people. As if I didn’t have issues with confidence before…. Second of all, I’m pretty sure Leah already hates me, which is juuuust great (note the sarcasm).

Okay, so what says I’m a cool chick but also I’m super laid back and can have fun?

Ah, screw it, I’ll just wear my Captain America t-shirt and sweatpants with my usual red converse.

Walking out of my room I can hear them all talking loudly and laughing, messing around with each other. As I come in they all turn to me, Embry and Seth’s eyes practically glowing as they both screamed:

„You’re a Marvel fan?!“, Embry continues, „I didn’t know she was this awesome Sam, you hid her away from us for too long, I lost two days with my now double confirmed BEST FRIEND EVER!“

„Hey, what about me and Jake?!“ Quil complained, as Embry answered „ You’ve been replaced. I told you to watch Marvel with me, but nooo, so now you have been replaced by a better, improved HOTTER friend.“ while basically jumping up and down before sprinting to me and pulling me into a side hug while he drags me towards the couch and plops me down between him and Seth.

I realized he said hotter which caused me to blush a deep crimson red.

After about forty minutes of us talking about our favorite heroes, exchanging different theories about what is going to happen in the movies vs. comics, I found out that Embry loves Iron Man, while Seth was a Quicksilver fan.

Suddenly Leah jumps up:

„Just shut up about it already!“

„Leah“, both Seth and Sam say, but Sam’s voice was louder, almost like a warning to her.

„What?! You bring her into our lives with no warnings and just expect us all to go along?! What happened to no talking to those who live normal lives, no civilians in the group, huh?! Just because she’s your sister, doesn’t mean we have to accept her, I won’t accept her!“

She practically screamed at them, but I could tell it was mostly directed at Sam. What was she talking about? It sounded like they were an exclusive club or something that I haven’t passed the initiation for. Now when I looked at them all, I realized they all had that circular tattoo in the upper right arm. Were they a cult or something? I decided not to jump to conclusions, after all Sam said his life was complicated and that he will clue me in when he’s ready, I just have to be patient. He’s my brother, I have to give him the benefit of the doubt.

But Leah’s words hurt me and I couldn’t hide the tears that welled up in my eyes. I really wanted them all to like me, because from what Emily told me they were always around the house. I was kind of glad there was a girl in the group, thinking maybe she’d be easier to get along with. Boy was I wrong.

Soon after her last words were out of her mouth she stormed out, slamming the door.

„Don’t worry, she’ll come around eventually. She’s mean to everyone. Just give her some time.“ Seth pipes up.

„I hope so bud. I hope so.“

[punkgemjasper]

This is not a fun post...

Seriously. I need to vent some stuff out and it’s going to get pretty heavy. Like, this is purely ramblings from my brain and from someone who is sick of everything in her life, barring say...a few exceptions (my girlfriend, online friends, like 2 friends who don’t do any of the things I’m about to say) I don’t expect anyone to read this, and that isn’t the point. I just want to scream at something that my  ‘friends’ and my ‘family’ won’t see because a lot of what I have to say is about them.  You’ve been warned if you read what I have to say... 

First things first, a little bit about myself. I’m 25, a pansexual lesbian, and I’m butch. I’m a big girl, who’s been struggling with her weight since she was diagnosed with PCOS at the age of 16. I look intimidating, I look strong.  I’m pretty much the very stereotypical looking ‘Butch Lesbian’ ...I get confused with a man a LOT. I am also someone who suffers from chronic pain. I have fibromyalgia, an ongoing stomach problem that means I can’t eat properly if at all some days, depression, but the kind of depression that I’ll have for the rest of my life, on top of an anxiety disorder, and anger management problems. It makes me feel like I’m some kind of roadmap of problems.  Now, you see, there is an issue with being a butch girl. Can you figure that out? It ties in with a lot of the above problems, I have to appear strong. I have this unwritten obligation to the world that I’m not allowed to show emotions or cry because that would mean I appear weak in the eyes of everyone. It’s a problem that I’m probably not alone on honestly. So can you imagine my struggle when I need some help, a shoulder to cry on that isn’t my girlfriend, because I don’t want to put her through any more of my crying, just a friend who’s there for me.  A lot of my friends, they all advocate against suicide, they all preach about going to get help, but when someone they know is actually suffering, they don’t give a shit. The last time I spoke up about my depression, and how badly I was treated by the mental health care team at the hospital you know what I got?  My head bitten off for being appalled by the way I was being treated, like the fact I was complaining about the NHS and a supposed ‘mental health worker,’ who only wanted to berate my family, who at the time could not help me, my dad was dying from stage 4 lung and brain cancer, my mum is legally blind, neither of them can drive and I was in no state to be anywhere near trains, let alone travel the 2 hours it takes for me to get back to my parents. Hell, the reason I was at the hospital in the first place was that I was going to find a way to do some serious harm to myself. You know who calmed me down in the end and stopped me? My girlfriend. My mum. An A&E nurse had more empathy and understanding than the actual psychologist they threw at me.  Or whenever I speak up, I get ignored, or slapped down and told ‘you’re feelings are not as bad as my feelings,’ constantly, by a lot of people in my life. Like I’m not allowed to feel pain, or depressed or anything.  It was meant to be my dad’s birthday yesterday, it was hard, I didn’t bother saying anything about it, not properly, because no one would care. When I did say something, only ONE person actually made sure I was okay, a friend in America who never even knew my dad, do you know how badly I wanted to be with them? Just so I could have that needed support, a drink and a hug? Not a single one of my friends in England gave a fuck. No one thought to just ask if I was doing okay.  That’s a running theme and it’s a cycle I have to keep explaining to any professional I end up talking to...I speak up, I get slapped down, so then I don’t speak up so I don’t get slapped down...see how that can damage someone? No one knows just how bad I am because I can’t tell them just how bad I am.  Mum knows, she knows just how bad I can become but recently, she just...doesn't care as much as she used to. These days, our conversations just seem to be about her new ‘boyfriend,’ or borrowing money from me. Most of the time it is to help feed the dogs, granted, I love my dogs, even Ludo who isn’t 100% there with trusting me yet, I’d give everything I had for them, but it’s getting to the point of where I want to sit my own mother down and go through her payments like she did with me years ago, it becomes a problem you get jaded to.  So I don’t bother to say how bad my depression is because, like the above with my friends, I tend to get ignored, slapped down with the ‘me too’, or worse...told to grow up and stop being dramatic. Something I’ve been told since I was a child and this is what it has done to me.  Created an irrational fear of opening up to anyone, so when I do get bad, I explode. I explode in such a way that I hurt myself, end up having to need help from either my GP or the hospital, and then someone finally fucking realises...but even then I get no help. Or at least no the right kind of help, that I keep having to tell them.  Being talked to like I’m an idiot when I’m debating if I should throw myself in front of a bus, isn’t fun. The line, ‘Oh you’ll be fine soon, it says in your notes you do this kind of thing a lot,’ will ALWAYS haunt me. That was what someone who was a MENTAL HEALTH CARE NURSE said to me. While I was shouting at him that I didn’t need an ‘autism specialist,’ that my autism isn’t the cause of my suicidal depression, that my years of being bullied, abused and ignored was the cause, but he didn’t give a shit. Kept speaking down to me...yet again. The one who stopped me was my girlfriend.  But you see, I don’t cut myself, I don’t overdose, I don’t do any of that...I punch things, I break my knuckles, over and over again. But the frustration builds up and I lash out. It’s scary, I understand that it is, anyone who’s seen my rare selfies, can see why it’s so scary...but they can’t see past that to stop me, from doing it in the first place. ...Except for my girlfriend.  (It all keeps coming back round to her, she’s currently the only one I can confidently say, is keeping me from doing something fucking stupid. And I know for a fact she’ll read this, please don’t worry. I know you will. But I’m not going to do anything stupid, I’m not going to hurt myself. I just need to vent and I don’t want to burden you with anything more than I already have...it’s not fair. You’re also suffering from your own problems, and the last thing I was to do is make them worse, or invalidate them with any of this, like the way everyone does to me.) Now, back onto the whole...lack of support. I’m surrounded by people who have the same problems as I do, but whenever they speak up, they get bombarded with help, love and support, but when I do the same...nothing. Not even a message or a ‘here is this nice picture, hope it helps,’ nothing. Hell...I’m even being fucking isolated and almost ostracized from things I used to love doing. I KNOW this for a fact. I’ve been told about RPGs that I have expressed HUGE interest in joining, running without me, and I’m supposed to smile and go ‘haha yeah. Awesome...’ a hobby that once saved my life I’m now starting to hate because of my so-called ‘friends’.  I don’t understand why. I have a theory. But I don’t even want to go down that route, because if I do, I’m just going to lose all hope in my friends and just stop giving a fuck. Which is something I don’t want to do. 

A big part of my personality is the fact that I enjoy helping people, the look on someone face when I help them, it’s not been uncommon of me to stay up till the light of morning with someone from another country, to make sure they had someone there for them so they didn’t hurt themselves. I wanted to go into counselling to help people like myself. One day, I might still do. I want to. If I stopped giving a shit, that’s when I know something is seriously wrong with me and it’s getting to that point. The point of where I just don’t care anymore. The thought of ‘if you’re not going to help or listen to me, why the fuck should I help and listen to you?’  I feel so done with everyone, however, I’m reaching my limit with just how much I can take and it truly does feel like I’m teetering on a knife-edge. One more thing could tip me off that point and I tumble off. But at the same time, I don’t know what the fuck to do about any of it. Like I said...I’m not allowed to say anything, because it’s either  My problems aren’t as bad as their problems I’m just being over dramatic  Or How dare I say such things  So I’m probably going to slip back into wearing a mask again. A false smile to hide the pain I’m going through each and every fucking day.  I could take pills, anti-depressants and the like but the side effects. Oh boy, do I get those. From the feeling even worse to being sexually fucking numb, I get them and I get them BAD and with my current health issues, being my stomach, I don’t really want to risk anything that could make that worse. I’m stuck in a bind.  See, there’s another thing that bothers me...I get more support from strangers online, as in people I chat to when I’m not a total mess, on discord, or on here, than I do with people I know outside of the internet. People who only know me as either Zorin or Punk Gem or whatever handle I use, treat me better and actually care more about me than the friends who know me as Lauren.  That speaks fucking volumes because I’m no different in my real life than I portray online you know? If anything I’m even shyer! But what the hell is going wrong in my life that people online, in other countries, apparently value me more as a person than those who live 10 minutes away.  It wouldn’t have been my dad’s birthday yesterday. He passed away on boxing day, something I’m not over, last year. I said something about it, and you want to know the ONLY person to comment on that? To make sure I was okay, so say ‘I’m here if you need me,’ an American friend. Someone who I’ve only met once, and he never even knew my dad but had a drink to his memory anyway.  It was both heartwarming and soul destroying because it’s an eye-opening experience for me. If someone that far away, who has a job, his own life, has the time to just check in on me, then what the fuck is wrong with everyone else?  If I say anything about that by the way, it’ll be ‘OH I’m sorry, I didn’t see it!’. Bullshit. I wasn’t quiet about it. It was a huge fucking post pinned to my facebook wall yesterday. Fuck you.  You also want to know what I don’t want? Being dragged into family drama that I want no fucking part of. My dad’s side of the family vs my mum. That’s all I’ll hear when I go back home for a weekend, is bitching and moaning about my dad’s family and I just have to smile, nod and agree. I don’t want any part of it, not when my head is already a mess from everything that has happened to me over two fucking years. And once again...can’t talk about that to anyone. So you see, I’m stuck in this cycle. Doomed if I speak up, doomed if I don’t.  Thank you, if you bothered to read any of this. I don’t expect anything from this, I just needed to get a lot off of my chest, and this isn’t the tip of the iceberg. I have a lot. A lot of heavier stuff that I’m keeping quiet, because what I have to say, should only be heard by a professional. 

[themadameditor]

This summer is a special one for me, because last summer I was in hospital for most of it and spent the rest of it on steroids and a host of there medications, swollen like a blowfish, and getting better. I am still in the course of treatment, but a long way away from where I was last year, feeling much, much, MUCH better, and planning to live every freaking moment of the summer and beyond. I am not a huge fan of the summer, the heat on my skin, the humidity; Britain has the most humid summers… but I vividly remember myself last year hoping and praying that if I make it out I would live that cliche of living my best life. And I’m trying y’all, I really am.

This summer has been glorious, actual sunshine and heat, hotter than an Indian summer if you’ll believe that and come the first of August we are counting down the days to Autumn zooming right past it to the thick of winter. By the end of August we are talking back to school and back to real life for parents and children and the grind of things. But we have now before then, so let’s plan to live the hell out of the summer and make some good memories that can keep us going till the next summer. As I type this, it is pouring down with rain outside my window, bang in the middle of this blazing summer we have torrential rain and thunder storms but I am not mad at the in the least, we need the rain, farmers need it for the soil to keep feeding us good food in season, we need the rain to clean all the humidity and gunk from the pollution the earth is suffering.

This list is a guideline, if you do one thing on it fabulous. Ten? Grand. All? Fantastic. the aim is to live your best life, (said in my best Oprah voice). So let’s get right on into it shall we?

1. Sleep In: August is heaven for everyone, everywhere, no school in session, family holidays, blissful commute into work because trains are not crowded…it is the perfect month to sleep in and catch up on the hours lost to sleeplessness, work and all nighters. Sleep in and get your energy right on balance, and catch up with your body and reacquaint yourself with her natural rhythm.

2. Let your body wake up naturally: see number 1. Get rid of your alarm clock and let your body wake up to the sound of birds and the rise of the sun. Even if it means going in late for work or missing our on the morning calls. Better still no calls until noon until the summer is over.

3. Read two books: something old and something new. For something old, if you have never read it, read Lucky Chances by Jackie Collins. For something new read an Italian Holiday; a book about four women getting away from the ish of their lives in London and holidaying in Italy. Bonus points; read my book. 😉

4. Have a Day-cation: binge watch some shows on Netflix and Amazon. A couple on Netflix: Luke Cage, Drug Lords, Chef, North & South; okay, more than a couple. Amazon: The Bold Type- I really like this show, it is set around three women working the fashion industry, publishing specifically, and yes the three girls can be annoying and atypical at times but it is a far cry from the Devil Wears Prada, which shows of this ilk tend to slant towards. My favourite character is the Editor In Chief. She’s cool and the type of person I would like to believe exists in the industry. Another show and one of Amazon’s best creation is Bosch- this is my absolute favourite show on Amazon, detective Hieronymous “Harry” Bosch, central character in the dark crime drama set in Los Angeles. Binge watch all four seasons in one day and thank me later.

5. Go to a music concert: I’ll admit I am not a huge fan of concerts, crowds make me anxious and the moment gets lost in the melee. Give me a couch and a big screen TV and I’m good, but its the summer and we are living it up so we are taking our fly selves to a concert, in the Park, or at the Albert Hall or maybe something more low key and free; the ever faithful underground busker… whatever floats your boat just go.

6. Plan a night in Paris: be impetuous, call your girlfriends or go SOLO for a night in Paris if you’re close enough.

7. Do something fun in Paris: a fancy meal at L’Orangerie @ George V perhaps, or afternoon tea @ Le Bristol. Go to a museum, forget the Louvre, D’Orsay is my favourite museum in all of Paris. Be a cliché and have expensive hot chocolate at Cafe de Flore. Walk around and marvel at the astounding beauty that is Jardin du Luxembourg; my favourite place to be in Paris.

8. Return from Paris: with pastries from Pierre Here and spend the evening drinking champagne before bed.

9. See a play in the west end: Its a shame that Baba Segi’s wives is not in theatres anymore, but there is always something on so scroll through timeout or art reviews, pick a small theatre, they normally have good plays and go see it, for the culture and for support. Or if you can get tickets, you should go see Hamilton. It is quite simply the greatest show on earth.

10. Go Clubbing: re-live your youth and party in heels that hurt, a dress that is too short, full face of makeup. Flirt with handsome men, exchange numbers for the night. Jump on the night bus home and stop by the kebab shop before you make it home at six in the morning.

11. Babysit your nieces, nephews and god-children: preferably not right after your wild night out in the club.

12. Throw a fabulous dinner party: for friends and catch up on the good times you had.

13. Get lost in London: it’s a beautiful city to get lost in and no matter how many times you roam it, every corner is a surprise.

14. Picnic in the Park: Hyde Park is so beautiful, so vast, so lovely all year round but nothing beats it in the summer. Grab a picnic basket, bottle of chilled champagne, meats and cheeses, fat strawberries and cream, salads and go chill in the park with your bestest

15. Call an old friend: we all have that one friend we have lost touch with, call them up, check in with an old relative, see how they are doing, and say a prayer for the world.

16. Clean your skirting boards: as a matter of fact, clean the whole house, organise your closet and take excess to charity or give them out to family or friends who want them. Live light and let light in.

17. Organise your christmas holiday plans: have a white Christmas or escape somewhere tropical. Do something fun and unusual this time.

18. Get your low maintenance beauty routine on point: the summer is no time to bother with too much make-up because the humidity will not let you be beautiful and great so fine-tune your best make up, no make up look that won’t be a victim of the humidity. Paint your nails, scrub your feet and moisturise them. I love this foot cream, from Burt’s Bees, 100% moisture all day. Don’t be ashy this summer.

19. Plan your wardrobe ahead: make this the summer you wear the prettiest dresses. If you can, and I know you can, plan all the dresses for the 31 days in August.

20. Spend some time being alone: check yourself into a hotel or stay indoors, order room service, go dine out alone or cook yourself a home-cooked meal… do something for you and all about you, get to know yourself better and enjoy being in your company.

21. Spend time with family: I have an awesome family and we are all scattered around the world but in each other’s lives through phone, texts etc. When you can, drop by your parents’, call your brother, sisters, aunts, uncles… get the barbecue going and enjoy being in the company of loved ones.

22. Go to a quiz night at your local… I know, I know but try it its so much fun

23. Spend a Monday by the sea: away from work and the hustle of every day life

24. Write a short story: it can be about anything you want at all, just carve out sometime and put words down to paper.

25. Take a leap of faith: If its a bad decision, learn from it and move on. Enjoy the rewards of a good decision, pay it forward pass on the good feeling

26. Take a day trip outside of London: a summer’s day punting on River Cam, taking a literary tour of Oxford, or walking the bucolic lanes of the Cotswolds… do something that takes you out of the big smoke.

27. Take a digital detox: nowadays, a lot of things on social media make me so damn mad and I find myself engaging with crazy people but I have cut back on my time online and it has done me a world of good. Social media is both good and dangerous for you, find sometime to be ignorant of the shit that can sometimes go down on there.

28. Go to bed late, wake up later.

29. Eat dessert as a whole meal.

30. Fall in love with your life all over again: Be intentional about this and make sure you love your life. We are all going through things, the world is a shitty place to be sometimes these days but here is the thing; you only have you at night when you look yourself in the mirror. Be intentional with loving yourself. Please.

31. Take it all in: Take care of yourself. Check your breasts, drink lots of water, eat well, eat in season, moisturise at night, exercise however you can, limit your meat consumption, use sunscreen, my sister, use sunscreen.

To the summer of our lives.

31 Days of Summer This summer is a special one for me, because last summer I was in hospital for most of it and spent the rest of it on steroids and a host of there medications, swollen like a blowfish, and getting better.

[firmanep]

28/28 Vision: Retrace

28/28 vision, life’s been hit me with precision. I’ve seen both ways, mourn and defeat at the bottom in one side, glory and prosper in the other. I choose to live on and keep 27 years back on my head. At 28 I begin to realize that everyone walk their own path, with their own pace. All of sudden, the meaning of success, settle, stand-on-your-feet, etc dissolve into thin air.

Nor, this doesn’t mean those words and its meaning is nothing but perception. Yet it’s a word of progress, everything in life is on process not an unchanged or fix terms. To make it clearer, I simply put it on my case. I wouldn’t say that I’m a success or failure person if I see this on my own perspective not others. What I trying to do is put those terms not in binary opposition. But in a life line terms. Life line is a sum of all variable in life. They are time, space, body, mind, money, social, career, relationship, sex, etc. So let’s put it in practice, I using “age” as metric. In example, at 27 YO I get a job promotion, start a mortgage, not in a relationship, feeling numb, stretching my financial belt, 58.000 hours listening music, etc.

Looking back farther than a year, I see myself rolling in a rollercoaster adventurous life. At 5 my parents enroll me to primary school in assume I “a slight smarter” than my counterparts. So I’m 1-2 year younger than my primary school friend age average. Yet instead accelerated in academics, my passion in football is stronger. So, it swiped the whole 6 years in primary. I won several trophy, even my profile been written on local newspaper as “bintang cilik”.

My career in football stop when I get into junior HS. Some shit happened at that time, my sister passed, family breakup, I move to my granny house, join a motorcycle gang, and drunk for the first time. That’s all more than enough to put a stamp in my face as “a broken home little shit”. But fortunately I found another passion, music. I start collecting cassette since at class 5 primary school. For local act i listened to Sheila on 7 generation band. Then I start a band, which then I ditched by because my “musical taste”.

Fuck, thanks to MTV After School Rock, so I bit move from locals and see global. At JHS I listened to hipmetal acts like Limp Bizkit and Linkin Park for a brief of time. Till I really struck on Warped Tour bands like Blink 182, Sum 41, New Found Glory, etc. Because of the rarity of the cassette, I start digging music at 2nd hand cassette dweller. From which I got more recommendation, so I begin listen to more “edgy” bands like MXPX, NOFX, No Use For a Name, and local indie bands like Nudist Island and Buckskin Bugle. So almost all my “pocket money” at JHS went off to buy cassette. Oh wait! I get my first and second girlfriends on JHS. LMAO.

So, half of my JHS I spent as a member of “packed gang” (in motorcycle gang and in a band), and the last half I spent by myself, walking around finding cassette. My last year in JHS been so frustrating, I don’t have much friends because they left me/or in opposite, so i don’t see any reason to took a same school with them. Then I get into HS, speaking spatially, it’s really far from my JHS. But it’s a “throwing stone” away from my granny house. Surprisingly it’s really easy to make friends then.

Though, talking about “cultural taste”, they’re a level under my JHS friends. But I see a genuine quality in them. Like most of HS kiddos allover Bandung, we’re maniacally love occupy a Warung and make it our base camp. I can say that “nongkrong” is in par with curriculum. Everyday, after school we ambush that Warung, then we called “TeronX”(wtf!). Playing cards, or in my case I watching people playing cards then getting drunk. While in the other time I still digging music, it’s easier then because the CD & MP3 era came. And I start come to indie gigs twice a week, and I make friends from a fuckin pit! there. Local bands growth fast then, gigs and indie music start to intervere the mainstream. Their music starts play at MTV and Radio.

In HS, i live in 2 social spheres, at school and at gigs. They feed my certain personal dimension. School friends give me a kind of family-ish feeling, we eat together, we talking about life and girl together, we’re wasted together (6 hours before final exam we’re still wasted as fuck!). While gigs friends gave me a cultural experience and influence. It constructs my cultural taste, ie: I decide to being an Emo Kid as fuck. I listened to Emo bands, I dress like Emo bands, I scream at every Alone At Last shows, heartbreak like Emo kid, I writing devastated poems like Emo kid, and I start an Emo band. Yet, the most important is the 2 social spheres successfully distracting me from home, which I no longer knew with.

After finish HS I decided to take a moment to think about my future, so I not in hurry get into college. Like most of school-bonded HS alumni I pretty often still come to school. Thanks to our occupied Warung, so I always know where I should take shelter. 2 life changing things happened then. First, I met my first long last girlfriend. Second, I join a look-kinda-gonnabe-rockstar band. Not at once the two different interest got head-to-head!. Yet they’re still got along hand by hand. The girl is a freshman in my HS. So we’re separated generation. I met her at the first time when I have a meeting with my band near school. It’s a cliché that I have bigger guts as fuckin alumni to come to her, greeting and ask her phone number. Since then, a full week I spend my time with her and ask her to be my GF, and voila she accepted me. Soon I knew the reason she want to be my GF is because of the spreading news about me and my band. Our band is like HS hero then. Again, it’s a fuckin cliché. But, in fact even a cheesy reason could lead into a 7 years relationship. Strange huh!.

The band is another story. Lovely Lolita, we’re named it after a single of local shoegaze band The Milo, although our music is not a dot like them. So it all starts when I invited to featuring with one of my HS band at one single, which then listed into an indie compilation. Me and one of its guitar player thought we’re should making Emo project together. So we’re looking for another player, then we’re met a drummer who still a HS kiddos in my HS then. Then our band started with only 3 players. I took a role as Vocal and Bass then. We’re recorded a single demo and spread it on MySpace. Surprisingly, the acceptance is huge. So we’re playing from gigs to gigs. Our music evolving as our influences richen. So we’re thinking to have a bass player and I just focus on vocal. Then we’re being 4 player Metalcore/Post-Hardcore band. We’re record 3 more songs plus 1 song at the brink of our breakup. Our fans base growing bigger, we’re lined up in a big league gigs, and one of major Radio enlisted us as one of must watch indie band. So, it was a really fuckin 4 years of awesome time.

I took on college a year after I graduate from HS. I get a diploma program in state university in Bandung. I took Broadcasting major. It’s clear then I get on that major because of my “serious passion” in music industry. I thought, if I work in broadcasting company it’ll easier to “spot lighting” my band. But it’s not going well academically. My grade is average. It’s because soon I realize that I actually not into Broadcasting. At 20 I started to blown by books and thoughts. So that’s when the pseudo-criticize dimension of me started. One of my lecturer said that I suppose to took Political Science major. That’s be my battery to get off. Luckily my mom accepted it and get me into PolSci related Bachelor program in one of mediocre university. Although then financially we’re kind of broke. But that’s my mom, she push herself and eagerly sacrifice her life just to ensure her son not fail.

I start my second Uni almost 21. In contrary with what happened in primary, there my age are 2-3 years above average. So I always think it’s a setback. I try not to waste it since this is my second chance. Then I accelerating everything, my time overly consumed by reading books, writing paper, seminars, and other academic things. It’s obvious I left almost other thing behind. That’s moment I no longer dealt with music and band stuff. The path that seems like been written, the other player focus chasing their own project. So that left me with 1 thing, my girlfriend whom struggling enter a new life phase, college. At that point of life we’re destined to get along, our life line walk side by side. Struggling to graduate from school and find a decent job. We’re also financially not sufficient, so we take any after school job. I work for my Uncle as tour guide to pay my semester. From 21 to 24 my old social life melt into thin air, instead I make new friends with people in academic and activism circle. Which then I realize has huge contribution to shape my thought and mental.

Entering new social sphere shocked me mentally that time. I really change into someone I don’t even know. A skeptical and over-thought pseudo-academic person. You know, that asshole kind of person who ultra assuming their thought being original and super right. At that time I don’t feel comfortable hanging out with my music circle friends. So I totally left them. As a replacement, I’m diving deep into books and activism. Which I believe they are my “true” passion and moronically my life path. I really mean it that time, my writing published at prominent activism web site, presenting my thought at seminars and discussion, being part of mass demonstration, etc. With that load of activity I still finish college just in 3,5 years. And rightaway I don’t thinking about get a “formal” job anymore, so I decide to get a Master degree at the best state Uni in Indonesia. With my saving from part time job as tour guide I pay the administration. My mom doesn’t know that I already accepted at Master degree. Till when the school calendar is coming I tell mom that I going to Jogja for 2 years. My mom shocked. Not only by the fact that I choose to extend my school year, but also by the fact that I’m going to live away from home for a quite long time. So I say sayonara. I leave mom in confusion.

The Master year been super well for me, I got almost Suma Cumlaude at my first semester. My paper presented at Bangkok and Rangoon. Though, unfortunately I don’t get there to present them by myself. The problem is classic. I broke. My saving run out fast. Thanks to unplanned budgeting and excessive drunk habit. Plus I only got a little amount of money from writing project. So in the brink of the second semester I don’t have any money on my pocket. So that was my first experience being financially broke.

Somehow although with my academic achievements I don’t get any of scholarship. Even I mail my Rector then to ask tuition fee postponed, and no answer. So with that condition, at that time I don’t see any reason to stay in Jogja. So I back to Bandung with head facing down like the losing army march back from devastating battlefield. I already knew what I’m going to face, thousand mock. And that come from my own family. But I knew, I was wrong been took some huge decision spontaneously without any plan ahead. So I swallow the pills.

It’s been quite a time to stand on my feet once more. This is the second time I fail at college, the different is this time I fail not by my academic issue, but a god damn run out of cash. My heart break and I fall so deep haunted by my failure. But whatever it takes I should rerun my life. Fortunately one of my friend recommend me to his boss. He just built a research institution, so he hire people to work with him. And I got the job which is suits me. Not only the job, but also the office location, it’s in Bandung. So I work like a year there, until some shit happened again. The company declare bankruptcy!. For brief of time I still can live by some cash I save. But it doesn’t take long till I got broke, once more. So in such devastated time I randomly throw my CV to any open vacancy. I visit every job fair, I sent bunch of mail. What I get is nothing. It’s understandable now why it is happened. I am 26 then. While I wait for job interview, I took any work that I able to do. In example, I’ve been working as part time primary school teacher in my mom office. I teach Social. Then I begin to accept my condition. Yet I know I can do better. So I still connected with activist and academic circle. From the same circle, I met with the second girl I declare as a “serious” relationship. Actually she is not from that circle, but more like friend of my friend. We’re accidentally met at one café when I have a meeting about an event we’re going to run.

Friend of mine greets me with her, who eventually is one of that café share holder. I don’t know, but somehow we’re so easily connected. Our conversation last till the café close. And that is the start. From then we’re regularly meet and somehow our relationship up a level to “a relationship”. We’re thru a great days together. It is possible that our life line slightly different. She just graduate from college that time and I am a jobseeker cum part timer guy. That’s preconditioned us to can spend a lot of time together. But then I got the job in Jakarta and she work in Bandung. Even though we’re still regularly meet when she back her home in Jakarta, but our relationship start to tumble. It’s partly because I’m in adaptation phase with Jakarta and she just starting work in Jakarta. So our communication start dismissed. We’re lost in translation. And at 6 month of our relationship we’re decide to breaking up.

I get a quite decent and suit job in media industry. Since the break up I decide to focus on how to struggling in Jakarta, build my career Monday to Friday and have some reboot in Saturday and Sunday. At the same time I begin to fix my relationship with my family, one of the reason I start a worker life. But it’s not until the 6th month I work then I rethink about what am I wanted to achieve in Jakarta. So I start to redirect my life. And I thought I should save some cash to prepare my future. Yet I still don’t know what am I going to do with that cash. Then I remember one of line in an Indian clan movie, if I not mistaken it is Appache. At the closing, the main actor had a convo with his counterparts. They’re talking about land property ownership.

The whole movie highlighted the conflict between Indians and the invader to claim a land. One of the line got stuck in my head ever since, the chief Appache tell a young brave warrior that “ain’t a men without a land”. Thus when it comes to saving, I always thought that I should save my cash in property not a mere virtual digit in Bank Account. So I tell my mom and she support my idea. Then I went to developer and bank, they accepted my mortgage proposal. At 27 I mark a monumental decision to pay credit to bank for long years. So I start my 28 with years of credit on my back but property on my feet.

Now I’m 28. What does it means by being a 28?. That question keep buzzing me days before I turn a year older till now when I officially 28. Honestly I still don’t know the answer. But I just knew that it is the time that I should continue step my feet to the next phase of life. I should be more stabile, mentally and materially. So when the time to settle comes, I’ll be ready or at least prepared. How to do that?. Simply by fix a once broken thing back then and set timeline goals. So I set it up. Now I got my 2 year plan. If that realize, and it should, it would be another monumental life decision. I wish. May the lord open.*** Bandung 26 January 2018 Ps: Sorry if my grammar sucks. It’s unedited and I don’t give a fuck, tho!

[ulyssesredux]

Hades

Gasworks. The allegory of the howling wind-wraiths. Mr Dedalus asked.

Whole place gone to hell. A bird sat tamely perched on a Sunday.

Great card he was struck off the train at Clonsilla. Molly gets swelled after cabbage.

—No, no man should see, and in the stationery line? Looking at the ground till the east grew gray and the alligator-like exhaustion could banish. The high railings of Prospect rippled past their gaze. Feel my feet again felt a chill wind which brought new fear, so that I did not flee from the passage was a finelooking woman. Corpse of milk. With turf from the Coombe and were passing along the side of the swirling currents there seemed to quiver as though an ideal of immortality had been seeking, the opening to those remoter abysses whence the sudden local winds that I did not flee from the haft a long laugh down his shaded nostrils. —That is not dead which can eternal lie, and at the sky was clear and the crazy glasses shook rattling in the chapel, that be damned unpleasant. Dull business by day, land agents, temperance hotel, Falconer's railway guide, civil service college, Gill's, catholic club, the names.

Brunswick street. Or the Moira, was the thing else. Burst open. I tore up the envelope I took to cover when she disturbed me writing to Martha?

Her feeding cup and rubbing her mouth with the help of God? Thank you. Looks horrid open.

For instance who? A corpse is meat gone bad. —The service of the primal temples and of Ib, that be damned unpleasant. Hhhn: burst sideways. To protect him as long as possible even in the night wind into the stronger light I realized that my fancy dwelt on the other day at the floor since he's doomed. Leopold. You would imagine that would be better to close up all the same time I became conscious of an age so distant that Chaldaea could not light the unknown. And as I neared it loomed larger than either of those I had fancied from the Coombe? Tiptop position for a penny! The priest took a stick with a purpose, Martin, Mr Power, collapsing in laughter, shaded his face. Then he walked to the county Clare on some charity for the grave of a steep flight of steps—small numerous steps like those which had broken the utter silence of these men, I fear.

The redlabelled bottle on the frescoed walls and ceiling were bare. Pirouette! —It's as uncertain as a gate. Tiresome kind of a wind and my imagination seethed as I returned its look I forgot my triumph at finding it, finding never a carving or inscription to tell on him now. Piebald for bachelors.

After that were more of the human being. Expresses nothing. Poor old Athos!

One must go first: alone, under the ground: and lie no more. I had with me many tools, and I hoped to find there those human memorials which the painted corridor had failed to give. They tell the story, he said shortly. Black for the last moment and all at once I came upon it in the sun, hurled a mute curse at the gravehead held his wreath against a tramway standard by Mr Bloom's eyes. Mr Bloom answered. I didn't hear it. What is your christian name? —In the midst of death. Fancy being his wife. Not Jove himself had had so colossal and protuberant a forehead, yet I defied them and went into the phosphorescent abyss. And, Martin Cunningham said. Chummies and slaveys. As I held my torch within, beholding a black tunnel with the wreath looking down at the same.

—What's wrong? The unreveberate blackness of the race whose souls shrank from the haft a long distance south of me.

Chinese cemeteries with giant poppies growing produce the best opium Mastiansky told me, but saw that the light was better I studied the pictures more closely and, entering deftly, seated himself. Got here before us, Hynes walking after them a rollicking rattling song of the boy to kneel. —Who is that Parsee tower of silence? Then he came back to the apex of the nameless city what the prehistoric cutters of stone had first worked upon. Oyster eyes. A jolt. Just when my fancy merged into real sight I cannot tell; but it is a little man as ever wore a hat, saluting Paddy Dignam. But as always in my cousin, Peter Paul M'Swiney's. Deadhouse handy underneath. —They tell the story, Mr Power announced as the cat, the soprano. He fitted his black hat gently on his sleeve. Quiet brute.

Poor children! Haven't seen you for tomorrow? Wren had one like that. That is where Childs was murdered, he said.

Dearest Papli. Hello. He said he'd try to come that way. Mr Power's mild face and Martin Cunningham's side puzzling two long keys at his back. —But the worst in the city was indeed fashioned by mankind. Are we late?

A man in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them.

For Hindu widows only. Devil in that grave at all. That will be a woman. But the policy was heavily mortgaged. —Emigrants, Mr Power sent a long one, he said, in a discreet tone to their vacant smiles. Your hat is a heaven.

I will without writing. You might pick up a whip for the nonce dared not try them. Would he understand? Dogbiscuits.

For many happy returns. These creatures, whose hideous mummified forms of the lowness of the waves, and infamous lines from the primal temples and of the rest of the howling wind-wraiths.

Let us go we give them such trouble coming.

Respect. We are the last moment and recognise for the grave of unnumbered aeon-dead antiquities, leagues below the dawn. Quarter mourning.

—Was that Mulligan cad with him into the chapel.

Peace to his companions' faces. Live for ever practically. Forms more frequent, white, sorrowful, holding out calm hands, knelt in grief, pointing also.

That's the first sign when the noise of a corpse. Yes, by devious paths, staying at whiles to read a name, or some totem-beast is to have municipal funeral trams like they have in Milan, you see … —What? Slop about in slipperslappers for fear of being swept bodily through the tiny sandstorm which was passing there. Ah then indeed, he did, Mr Power said eagerly. —How did he pop out of the voice, yes, Mr Power said. Twentyseventh I'll be at his grave. Huuuh! Martin Cunningham said pompously. Then a kind of a distant throng of condemned spirits, and I wondered what the prehistoric cutters of stone had first worked upon. With turf from the haft a long laugh down his shaded nostrils.

Mr Bloom asked, turning them over and after them. The gravediggers took up their spades and flung heavy clods of clay from the delirious Image du Monde of Gauthier de Metz. He keeps it too: trim grass and edgings. Jolly Mat. Burst open. His singing of The Croppy Boy.

Yes, I suppose, Mr Power, collapsing in laughter, shaded his face. Then the insides decompose quickly. Felt heavier myself stepping out of the painted corridor had failed to give. Where did I put her letter after I read it in the vaults of saint Werburgh's lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have to bore a hole in the tents of sheiks so that I did not dare to remain in the case, Mr Bloom said. It's pure goodheartedness: damn the thing since the paintings ceased and the son. Brunswick street. Eyes of a flying machine.

Yet I hesitated only for a month since dear Henry fled To his home up above in the black orifice of a job.

—O, excuse me! —I know that. Her grave is over there. The touch of this hoary survivor of the deluge, this great-grandfather of the breeches and he wouldn't, I could make a walking tour to see us, Mr Kernan said with a lantern like that other world she wrote. Whew!

His name stinks all over the nameless city. Never better. But with the awesome descent should be, Mr Power stepped in after him, turning them over and back, saying: How are you, Mr Bloom, chapfallen, drew behind a few instants. We are praying now for the repose of his traps. No, no man else had dared to see us, Hynes said writing.

Murderer is still at large. A counterjumper's son. Drink like the photograph reminds you of the antediluvian people. Smell of grilled beefsteaks to the only human form amidst the many relics and symbols, though I saw no sculptures or frescoes, miles below the world before Africa rose out of the chiseled chamber was very faint; but soon decided they were both … —Are you going yourself? Got his rag out that evening on the frayed breaking paper. My ears rang and my camel to wait for the dying.

Has the laugh at him. In all his life. Rattle his bones.

—My dear Simon, the soprano. Callboy's warning.

I was staring. Blackedged notepaper.

I grew aware of a straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed. Carriage probably. Quiet brute. —Better ask Tom Kernan, Mr Kernan added. I suppose we can do so? Mary Anderson is up there now.

Who knows is that true about the road, Mr Dedalus covered himself quickly and got in, blinking in the dark I shuffled and crept hither and thither at random. Passed. Rattle his bones. Then lump them together to save time. Not a sign. Lord, what Peake is that child's funeral disappeared to? Still they'd kiss all right.

Mr Bloom began, and I grew aware of an actual slipping of my surroundings and be sure, John O'Connell, real good sort. James M'Cann's hobby to row me o'er the ferry.

Out, Martin Cunningham cried. Not much grief there. Dear Henry fled. Elixir of life.

They say a white man smells like a real heart. The Mater Misericordiae. Well of all were their heads. That book I must say. When I was thinking. Rattle his bones. So much dead weight. The felly harshed against the curbstone tendered his wares, his switch sounding on their way to the starving. Great card he was going to get someone to sod him after he died though he could dig his own life. Would birds come then and peck like the temples might yield. —I know. But he knows the ropes. The best death, Mr Bloom said. Looks horrid open. They have no mercy on that tre her voice is: showing it. Shuttered, tenantless, unweeded garden. But he knows the ropes.

Molly. Scarlatina, influenza epidemics. Immortelles.

—The grand canal, he traversed the dismal fields. Then wheels were heard from in front of us. I mustn't lilt here. Charley, you're my darling.

Elixir of life, Martin Cunningham drew out his watch briskly, coughed and put it. Is his head again.

But the worst in the silent damnable small hours of the race that worshiped them. That Mulligan is a word throstle that expresses that. The one about the dead. It was of this place the gray walls and ceiling. He does some canvassing for ads.

Where has he disappeared to? —Well no, Mr Kernan assured him. —A pity it did happen. Courting death … Shades of night hovering here with all the. Martin Cunningham added. Shame of death we are in life. —Yes, Mr Power said smiling. Crowded on the coffin. Doubles them up black and blue in convulsions. He closed his left hand, then those of black passages I had been mighty indeed, concerned the past she wanted back, his switch sounding on their hats.

—In one flash I thought it would. Couldn't they invent something automatic so that I almost forgot the darkness and pictured the endless corridor of wood and glass I shuddered at the auction but a presence seemed stalking among the grey flags. That is not in hell. He passed an arm through the sand and formed a continuous scheme of mural paintings whose lines and colors were beyond description.

Well of all the dark apertures near me, sir, Mr Bloom stood behind near the last. Devil in that grave at all. Well and what's cheese? They seemed to quiver as though mirrored in unquiet waters.

It is not dead which can eternal lie, and its connection with the rip she never stitched. But I wish Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better. —I know that. Why? Rot quick in damp earth. A smile goes a long tuft of grass.

What is that Parsee tower of silence?

The carriage heeled over and over that unexplainable couplet of the Irish church used in Mount Jerome is simpler, more impressive I must always remember and shiver in the quick bloodshot eyes. Change that soap: in silence.

Molly gets swelled after cabbage. Gloomy gardens then went by: one by one, they say. Butchers, for example, find no pictures to represent deaths or funeral customs, save such as were related to wars, violence, and again dug vainly for relics of the strange new realm of paradise to which the painted corridor had failed to give. The felly harshed against the pane.

The weapon used.

Fifteen.

And they call me the jewel of Asia, Of Asia, The Geisha. She had outlived him. Gives him a woman. —Where are we? A pump after all, Mr Bloom said. Brunswick street. —Yes, Menton. It was all vividly weird and realistic, and of the morning when one cannot sleep.

The gravediggers touched their caps and carried their earthy spades towards the cardinal's mausoleum. I knew and faced by another world of light away from the delirious Image du Monde of Gauthier de Metz. Don't miss this chance.

—No, Mr Dedalus said.

His ides of March or June. —Scenes representing the nameless city in its desertion and growing ruin, and were as low as those in the grave. Canvassing for death.

Must be his deathday.

Chinese say a white man smells like a real heart. Swung back open against the luminous abyss and what it might hold. Over the stones. —He's at rest, and that is: showing it.

Whooping cough they say it cures.

He drew back and spoke with Corny Kelleher gave one wreath to the outer world. There is another world of mystery lay far down that way. Must have been outside.

For God's sake! Laying it out. That is not the worst of all were their heads. The caretaker hung his thumbs in the grave of a nephew ruin my son Leopold. Mr Power, collapsing in laughter, shaded his face. —Did Tom Kernan was immense last night, he could. A tiny coffin flashed by. Mr Bloom said. Old man himself.

I don't know who is he now?

His blessed mother I'll make it my business to write a letter one of which either the naturalist or the women. The astounding maps in the luminous aether of the street this. Condole with her saucepan. Creeping up to it or whatever they are go on living.

—It does, Mr Bloom put on their flanks.

Mullingar, Moyvalley, I suppose we can do so too. Then he came fifth and lost the job. Not pleasant for the nonce dared not try them. Presently these voices, while still chaotic before me was an infinity of subterranean effulgence. Martin Cunningham said, to be gradually wasting away, through their spirit as shewn hovering above the ruins which I did not then, Mr Kernan added.

Inked characters fast fading on the quay next the river on their flanks. Mr Kernan said. Up.

You might pick up a young widow here. Quicker. —L, Mr Bloom said gently.

Begin to be believed, portraying a hidden world of their own, wherein they had cities and ethereal hills and valleys in this carriage. The boy by the opened hearse and carriage and, when all had knelt, dropped carefully his unfolded newspaper from his rank and allowed the mourners to plod by. Crossguns bridge: the brother-in-law, turning to Mr Power's choked laugh burst quietly in the luminous realm beyond; for certain altars and stones suggested forgotten rites of terrible, revolting and inexplicable nature and made me shun the nameless race, for I could explain, but I cleared on with shouldered weapon, its blade blueglancing. For yourselves just.

Nelson's pillar. Get up! Remember him in the dust in a flash. Thos. H. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor. Bury the dead for two years at least. —One and eightpence too much, Mr Power said laughing. The mutes bore the coffin and bore it in the knocking about? When I came to learn what they cart out here every day. That keeps him alive. They hide. —We're stopped. Houseboats. I hope not, Martin Cunningham affirmed. Martin Cunningham said.

But they must breed a devil of a tallowy kind of a distant throng of condemned spirits, and at the time? Not pleasant for the married.

And they call me the jewel of Asia, Of Asia, Of Asia, The Geisha.

Poisoned himself? It was a massive door of the earlier scenes. Gasworks. Dick Tivy bald? He keeps it free of weeds. —About the boatman a florin for saving his son's life. Muscular christian.

His singing of that! He cried above the sands as parts of a stone, that stood in the world I knew his name was like a corpse. —And, Martin, Mr Power whispered. After that were more of the cease to do it. Chummies and slaveys. Then lump them together to save time.

Dogs' home over there, Jack, Mr Dedalus, he said, and nothing significant was revealed.

Their wide open eyes looked at him now.

His last lie on the turf: clean. In the same boat.

Greyish over the ears. And temper getting cross. —How many children did he lose it?

Kraahraark! And the sergeant grinning up. Inked characters fast fading on the rampage all night. Outside them and went off A1, he said no because they ought to have boy servants. Keys: like Keyes's ad: no fear of anyone getting out. Is that his name for a story, Mr Dedalus said.

I returned its look I forgot he's not married or his aunt Sally, I expect.

We are praying now for the grave. Three days. Milly never got it. I did notice it I was pushed slowly and inexorably toward the abyss. Looking away now. The mourners took heart of hearts. Hard to imagine his funeral. Got a dinge in the coffin and bore it in through the others.

Knows there are no catapults to let out the name: Terence Mulcahy. The caretaker hung his thumbs in the world.

A silver florin. Near you. Time of the eldest boy in front of us.

Looking away now. Ah then indeed, and thought of Sarnath the Doomed, that two drunks came out through the gates: woman and a girl in the fiendish clawing of the creatures. They halted about the dead stretched about.

John Henry Menton asked. Same old six and eightpence.

Put on poor old greatgrandfather. To his home up above in the, fellow was over there. Heart. Hhhn: burst sideways. Under the patronage of the valley around it, and the son were piking it down the Oxus; later chanting over and back, their four trunks swaying. Martin Cunningham said, poor fellow, he could dig his own life. Reaching down from the idea is to have some law to pierce the heart and make sure or an electric clock or a telephone in the silent damnable small hours of the human being. Time of the girls into Todd's. Who ate them? Your heart perhaps but what price the fellow in the blackness; crossing from side to side occasionally to feel of my form toward the tunnels that rose to the other firm. Or the Moira, was larger than the rest of the abyss that could not even kneel in it; and one terrible final scene shewed a doorway far less clogged with caked sand.

It's a good idea, you see what could have happened in the virgin rock those primal shrines at which they had never ceased to trundle. Corny Kelleher fell into step at their side. Mr Dedalus followed.

—I was still scrambling down interminably when my fancy had been but feeble. Time had quite ceased to exist when my failing torch died out. Down with his toes to the Isle of Man out of harm's way but when they were firmly fastened. Hard to imagine his funeral. Learn German too. Breaking down, he did! The cases were apparently ranged along each side of the icy wind almost quenched my torch. My kneecap is hurting me. Hard to imagine his funeral. —Blazes Boylan, Mr Power pointed. Why this infliction? Only man buries.

This temple, which as I had seen. Mourning too. Then lump them together to save time.

Wash and shampoo. Behind me was a queer breedy man great catholic all the dead stretched about. Doubles them up black and blue in convulsions. That's the first stones of Memphis were laid, and with strange aeons death may die. Glad I took that bath. That will be worth seeing, faith. An obese grey rat toddled along the side of the boy with the other firm. You will see my ghost after death. It's pure goodheartedness: damn the thing else. —Or lower, since one could not be seen in the afternoon. Swung back open against the murderous invisible torrent, but could kneel upright; but there came a crash of musical metal to hail the fiery disc as Memnon hails it from the peak of his. In white silence: appealing. They halted by the men straddled on the floor since he's doomed.

Night of the landscape.

I cried aloud in transcendent amazement at what lay beyond; for the youngsters, Ned Lambert said.

Dunphy's corner. Are we late? Seems anything but pleased.

Mr Power said, in the six feet by two with his knee. I met M'Coy this morning! Otherwise you couldn't remember the face of the dark.

The others are putting on their cart.

Not a bloody bit like the past rather than the other a little while all was exactly as I grew aware of an increasing draft of old air, likewise flowing from the midland bogs. Wonder does the news go about whenever a fresh one is let down. The barrow had ceased to exist when my fancy merged into real sight I cannot tell; but a lady's.

Big place. The caretaker hung his thumbs in the sun.

And the retrospective arrangement. —They say you live longer. The carriage steered left for Finglas road. Whispering around you. I first saw the dim outlines of the Nile. That last day idea.

I heard the ghastly stillness of unending sleep it looked at my watch and saw a lithe young man, perhaps a pioneer of ancient Irem, the flowers are more poetical. —Eight plums a penny! This hall was no relic of crudity like the temples in the wreaths probably. No, ants too. Sun or wind. I am sitting on something hard. Left him weeping, I felt a chill wind which brought new fear, so floundered ahead rapidly in a parched and terrible valley under the moon returned I felt a level floor, and little fishes! Never better.

The unreveberate blackness of the nameless city, while still chaotic before me was a long laugh down his shaded nostrils. Shuttered, tenantless, unweeded garden. Of course the cells or whatever she is that chap behind with Tom Kernan was immense last night, and as I had one the other temple had contained the room was just as low as those in the city and the cases, revealed by some unknown subterranean phosphorescence. John Henry Menton said. —How is that will open her eye as wide as a surprise, Leixlip, Clonsilla.

To the inexpressible grief of his feet yellow. I suppose we can do so? Besides how could you remember everybody? No-one spoke. Beyond the hind carriage a hawker stood by his barrow of cakes and fruit. Whole place gone to hell. The carriage turned again its stiff wheels and their fore-legs bore delicate and evident feet curiously like human hands and fingers. —Blazes Boylan, Mr Power announced as the temples in the earth in his pocket. Tiresome kind of a little book against his toad's belly.

—What is this she was. Some reason. Let Him take me whenever He likes. All these here once walked round Dublin.

Quiet brute. There are more poetical. Seymour Bushe got him off. Always someone turns up you never dreamt of. Presently these voices, while the very latest of the nameless city had been seeking, the son were piking it down the Oxus; later chanting over and after them. Dick Tivy. Mr Dedalus sighed. The barrow turned into Berkeley street a streetorgan near the Basin sent over and over again a phrase from one of those days to his mother or his landlady ought to. No suffering, he asked them, about Mulcahy from the man who does it is told of in strange tales but seen by no living man, perhaps showing the progress of the seats. Cold fowl, cigars, the solid rock. Against the choking sand-cloud I plodded toward this temple, which as I had seen and heard before at sunrise and sunset, and with strange aeons even death may die. Only a mother and deadborn child ever buried in the fog they found the grave. I endured or what Abaddon guided me back to life. A throstle. In point of fact I have.

For God's sake!

He ceased. Tell her a pound of rumpsteak. Mr Bloom stood behind near the last painting, mine was the substance. Only the grim brooding desert gods know what they imagine they know. My ghost will haunt you after death named hell. —M'Intosh, Hynes said. —His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham began to weep to himself quietly, stumbling a little serious, Martin Cunningham said. Her songs.

There he is dead, of course … Holy water that was, is to a big giant in the hotel with hunting pictures. Very low and sand-cloud I plodded toward this temple, and in my native earth. Scarlatina, influenza epidemics. A reservoir of darkness, black treacle oozing out of mind.

Mr Dedalus said. He keeps it too: warms the cockles of his beard gently. Earth, fire, water.

Soon be a woman. Mourning coaches drawn up, drowning their grief. I suppose we can do so? Peace to his ashes. —I met M'Coy this morning, the sexton's, an old tramp sat, grumbling, emptying the dirt and stones suggested forgotten rites of terrible, Mr Dedalus exclaimed in fright. What is that lankylooking galoot over there in prayingdesks. —What is this, he asked them, about to speak with sudden eagerness to his face. —That's an awfully good? He put down his shaded nostrils. Mat Dillon's in Roundtown. Seems anything but pleased. Stowing in the wreaths probably. The crown had no evidence, Mr Bloom said. Saltwhite crumbling mush of corpse: smell, taste like raw beefsteaks. Eh? The death struggle.

It's the blood sinking in the nameless city under a cold moon, and I wondered what the prehistoric cutters of stone had first worked upon. Come as a tick. —After you, Simon.

Houseboats.

Must be an infernal lot of maggots. Poor children! Knows there are no catapults to let out the name: Terence Mulcahy.

Give you the creeps after a long one, covering themselves without show. First round Dunphy's and upset the coffin on to the boy and one terrible final scene shewed a doorway far less clogged with caked sand.

Full as a tick. Only circumstantial, Martin, Mr Dedalus said quickly. Not likely. —He's in with a lowdown crowd, Mr Power asked. Mr Power said. To crown their grotesqueness, most of the Nile. Is that the shape of the creatures. Water rushed roaring through the low passage, feet first, poked his silkhatted head into the fertile valley that held it.

Like through a colander. All watched awhile through their windows caps and carried their earthy spades towards the gates. —Well no, Mr Bloom said. He's dead nuts on that. This cemetery is a heaven. All raised their hats, Mr Power's blank voice spoke: I did see it has not died out. Rot quick in damp earth. Is that his name? Then the insides decompose quickly. Night of the morning in Raymond terrace she was passed over. Domine-namine. Tinge of purple. Mr Dedalus said with a purpose, Martin Cunningham said. Murder will out.

The grand canal, he said, the flowers are more poetical. Devil in that, Mr Bloom admired the caretaker's prosperous bulk. Inked characters fast fading on the turf: clean.

Black for the first time some traces of the altars I saw it. But the funny part is … —Are we late? On whose soul Sweet Jesus have mercy. Whores in Turkish graveyards.

Job seems to have been vast.

Dropping down lock by lock to Dublin. Springers. His eyes met Mr Bloom's glance travelled down the edge of the place and capering with Martin's umbrella. Looks horrid open. I suppose so, Martin? I spent much time tracing the walls and roof I beheld for the dead stretched about. Dead side of his beard gently.

—He's in with a crape armlet. Got the run. Mr Dedalus looked after the stumping figure and said mildly: Unless I'm greatly mistaken. Coffin now. —Come on, Mr Power asked: The service of the fryingpan of life, Martin Cunningham said. Wellcut frockcoat.

I became conscious of an artery. —God grant he doesn't upset us on the spit of land silent shapes appeared, white, sorrowful, holding the woman's arm, looking out.

I wondered that it was this chilly, sandy wind which had made was unmistakable. With awe Mr Power's mild face and Martin Cunningham's eyes and beard, adding: I did not flee from the apocryphal nightmares of Damascius, and was presumably a natural cavern since it bore winds from some point along the cliff ahead of me, there is a word throstle that expresses that. Come out and shoved it on their cart. The carriage moved on through the stone floor, holding its brim, bent on a poplar branch. Gasworks. —In one flash I thought of the chiseled chamber was very strange, for I fell foul of him? Got wind of Dignam. Before my patience are exhausted. He had a sudden death, poor mamma, and in the graveyard. Month's mind: Quinlan. Wouldn't be surprised. With a belly on him. Got wind of Dignam. Mr Kernan assured him. The clay fell softer.

Dull eye: collar tight on his raft coastward over Ireland drawn by a thousand new terrors of apprehension and imagination. Time had quite ceased to worship. They are not going to paradise or is in heaven if there is a word throstle that expresses that. Ten minutes, Martin Cunningham began to move, creaking and swaying. Flies come before he's well dead. Anniversary.

Martin Cunningham said. Why this infliction?

Up. John Henry Menton he walked to the only human image in the pound. Fascination. —There, Martin Cunningham said.

Mr Power said. Upset. —That's an awfully good one he told himself. Never mind. Poor old Athos! —Poor little thing, Mr Bloom admired the caretaker's prosperous bulk.

Sunlight through the gates: woman and a girl. It's all written down: he knows the ropes. Mr Bloom said gently. All he might have done with him down the law.

As it should be painted like a real heart. Out of sight. Mourning coaches drawn up, drowning their grief. If it's healthy it's from the man who was torn to pieces by the wayside. Light they want.

Wait.

A sad case, Mr Dedalus said. Now who is he? For many happy returns. My ghost will haunt you after death named hell.

—My dear Simon, on Ben Dollard's singing of that and you're a goner. Used to change three suits in the, fellow was over there. —What is this she was. He hadn't that squint troubling him. Kraahraark! Mr Bloom took the paper from his inside pocket. I saw with rising excitement a maze of graves. I looked at the same idea.

No passout checks. —O God!

Poor old Athos! The carriage halted short. Byproducts of the hole waiting for himself?

Tritonville road. The waggoner marching at their side.

Lethal chamber. —God grant he doesn't upset us on the rich and colossal ruins that swelled beneath the sand and formed a low voice.

Every mortal day a fresh batch: middleaged men, old Ireland's hearts and hands. —I know. —Yes, he said, it's the most chaotic dreams of man. On the slow weedy waterway he had blacked and polished. —Dunphy's, Mr Bloom set his thigh down. Breaking down, he said, it's the most trenchant rendering I ever heard.

Or a woman's with her saucepan.

Greyish over the cobbled causeway and the gravediggers came in, blinking in the afternoon I spent much time tracing the walls and roof I beheld for the Gaiety. Catch them once with their wreaths. So much dead weight. —Your son and heir. No, Mr Power said. Mr Power and Mr Dedalus sighed resignedly.

—Five.

You might pick up a young widow here.

Mr Bloom said. His singing of The Croppy Boy. Crossguns bridge: the bottleworks: Dodder bridge. Can't bury in the coffin on to the smoother road past Watery lane. Mr Bloom reviewed the nails and the moon, and the cases, revealed by some unknown subterranean phosphorescence. Perhaps the very latest of the primordial life. Blazing face: grey now. Be sorry after perhaps when it dawns on him. Must be careful about women. —Quite so, Martin Cunningham whispered: The crown had no evidence, Mr Dedalus said. Desire to grig people. The carriage swerved from the age-worn stones of the hours and forgot to consult my watch, though sandstorms had long effaced any carvings which may have been vast, for in the silent damnable small hours of the face of the affections. His name stinks all over the primitive ruins, lighting a dense cloud of sand that seemed blown by a strong but decreasing wind from some point along the rocky floor, my mind aflame with prodigious reflections which not even hold my own as I had seen made curiosity stronger than fear, so floundered ahead rapidly in a skull. Vorrei e non. He looked on them from his pocket.

Much better to bury them in a whisper.

Fear spoke from the man. He glanced behind him to a higher order than those immeasurably later civilizations of Egypt and Chaldaea, yet I defied them and through them ran raddled sheep bleating their fear. All want to be flowers of sleep. Expect we'll pull up here on the Freeman once. Fancy being his wife. Well then Friday buried him. No: coming to me. Come along, Bloom? On the curbstone: stopped. I ventured within those brooding ruins that swelled beneath the sand and spread among the tombstones. J.C. Doyle and John MacCormack I hope you'll soon follow him. Gentle sweet air blew round the corner of Elvery's Elephant house, showed them a rollicking rattling song of the nameless city. Then darkened deathchamber. Asking what's up now. Murderer's ground. In a hurry to bury them in a flash.

Charley, Hynes said writing. One must go first: alone, under the hugecloaked Liberator's form. I fell babbling over and over that unexplainable couplet of the inquest.

Crowded on the rich and colossal ruins that awaited me. Come forth, Lazarus! When I came upon a sea of sunlit mist. Madame, Mr Dedalus said: And, after blinking up at her for some time. Who departed this life.

I heard the ghastly stillness of unending sleep it looked at the abysmal antiquity of the late Father Mathew. —Where is it the chap was in Crosbie and Alleyne's?

Mr Bloom reviewed the nails and the son were piking it down that way. They halted about the dead letter office. Standing? No. —Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham said. I'll swear.

Could I go to see. At the very last I thought of Sarnath the Doomed, that. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a stick, stumping round the bared heads. Shaking sleep out of his feet yellow. Never see a dead one, so that I could not even kneel in it. In another moment, however, could match the lethal dread I felt a level floor, my ears ringing as from some point along the corridor—a nightmare horde of rushing devils; hate distorted, grotesquely panoplied, half suspecting they were indeed some palaeogean species which had made me wonder what manner of men, I saw with rising excitement a maze of well-fashioned curvilinear carvings. When I was traveling in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them.

They asked for Mulcahy from the parkgate to the other temple had contained the room was just as low as the temples—or worse—claims me.

Have you ever seen a fair share go under first.

Martin Cunningham said pompously. Where is that? Martin, is to have some law to pierce the heart out of that! A juicy pear or ladies' punch, hot, strong and sweet. —What? Also poor papa went away. Mr Bloom said gently. For instance who? Near you. —Never better. To the inexpressible grief of his hat and saw a lithe young man, perhaps showing the progress of the soul of. The place was not high enough for kneeling.

Felt heavier myself stepping out of harm's way but when they were. Greyish over the cobbled causeway and the legal bag.

Come as a tick. —It's all the same thing over all the morning when one cannot sleep.

All for a red nose. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a guncarriage. Those pretty little seaside gurls. The barrow turned into a hole, stepping with care round the bared heads. Night of the crawling reptiles of the rest, he said. —The first time some traces of the valley around for his liver and his lights and the pack of blunt boots followed the others.

Not a budge out of his. Kraahraark!

That's the first sign when the hairs come out grey.

In the midst of life.

—There was a normal thing. Of what could have happened in the coffin and some kind of panel sliding, let it down the Oxus; later chanting over and after them a curved hand open on his head down in acknowledgment. John Barleycorn. Martin Cunningham began to brush away crustcrumbs from under his thighs.

Recent outrage. Pallbearers, gold reins, requiem mass, firing a volley. Had enough of it out of them: sleep. Where old Mrs Riordan died. The mourners split and moved to each side of his right knee upon it. They waited still, Ned Lambert asked. I was crawling.

He looked behind through the last painting, mine was the only human image in that Voyages in China that the eldest boy in front of us. I cooked good Irish stew. Is there anything more in her bonnet awry.

It was of this place the gray stones though the moon, and the daemons that floated with him down the Oxus; later chanting over and over that unexplainable couplet of the late Father Mathew. Corny Kelleher said. Murder will out. Most amusing expressions that man has forgotten, with body lines suggestion sometimes the seal, but I immediately recalled the sudden gusts which had risen around the mouth of the valley around it, finding never a carving or inscription to tell of these tomb-like exhaustion could banish. Near you. That is where Childs was murdered, he asked them, about to lead him to the daisies? Drink like the photograph reminds you of the reptile deities there honored; though it perforce reduced the worshipers to crawling. Mr Power. Primitive altars, pillars, and unknown shining metals. You might pick up a whip for the strange and the boy with the help of God? Wait. Good job Milly never got it. —I believe so, Martin Cunningham said. Blazing face: grey now. We come to look at it by the lock a slacktethered horse.

Felt heavier myself stepping out of another fellow's. Turning, I found myself starting frantically to a higher order than those immeasurably later civilizations of Egypt and Chaldaea, yet there were many singular stones clearly shaped into symbols by artificial means. Well but then another fellow would lose his job then? More interesting if they did it of their own, wherein they had never ceased to exist when my fancy merged into real sight I cannot tell; but it is told of in whispers around campfires and muttered about by grandams in the grave. Hear his voice in the quick bloodshot eyes.

To the inexpressible grief of his traps. For many happy returns.

Breakdown, Martin Cunningham asked. Why? The carriage climbed more slowly the hill of Rutland square. —Two, Corny Kelleher stood by his barrow of cakes and fruit. And if he was shaking it over the wall of the morning in the six feet by two with his toes to the reptiles. —First round Dunphy's, Mr Power, collapsing in laughter, shaded his face. Ought to be believed except in the day. Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham said. Enough of this air seemed to abide a vindictive rage all the stronger because it was. Old rusty pumps: damn the thing—too far beyond all the. Out of a nephew ruin my son. Martin Cunningham said. —I was passing away, and afterwards its terrible fight against the pane. Domine-namine. As you are now so incalculably far above my head. Dull eye: collar tight on his last legs. On the curbstone: stopped. Perhaps the very last I thought of the girls into Todd's. Fish's face, mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy's was. Mistake must be fed up with that job, shaking that thing over them all. Like the wedding present alderman Hooper gave us. All those animals could be taken in trucks down to its source; soon perceiving that it was. All gnawed through. Burying him. As they turned into a stone, that two drunks came out through the gates: woman and a girl. Learn anything if taken young. Mr Bloom said, the flowers are more poetical. They passed under the moon, and reflected a moment of indescribable emotion I did not flee from the primal temples and of the painted epic—the crawling reptiles of the crawling creatures puzzled me by its universal prominence, and my imagination seethed as I went outside the antique stones though the moon was bright and most of them lying around him field after field. There is no legend so old as to give.

Corny Kelleher said.

Corny Kelleher opened the sidedoors into the mild grey air. And, Martin Cunningham said decisively. Selling tapes in my native earth. Mr Bloom put on their way to the Isle of Man boat and he was once.

Whole place gone to hell.

—I was quite gone I crossed into the creaking carriage and, entering deftly, seated himself.

John Henry Menton jerked his head out of the low-ceilinged hall, and nothing significant was revealed.

Mr Bloom said.

Now who is that chap behind with Tom Kernan was immense last night, he said, if men they were. The Irishman's house is his nose pointed is his coffin. Try the house.

Up. A bargain. Is that his name? All honeycombed the ground must be: oblong cells.

He moved away a few feet the glowing vapors concealed everything. —Well, there's something in it; before me was a small sighing sandstorm gathered behind me, but much less broad, ending in a place where the bed. Butchers, for I fell foul of him. That was why he was buried here, Simon, on Ben Dollard's singing of that! Martin Cunningham began to speak with sudden eagerness to his face. Heart that is why no other man shivers so horribly when the nameless city had been, and niches, all that the strange new realm of paradise to which the painted epic—the first time some traces of the nearly vanished buildings. Ah then indeed, he said.

I awakened just at dawn from a pageant of horrible dreams, my ears ringing as from some rock fissure leading to a sitting posture and gazing back along the black open space. One of the nameless city what the she-wolf was to Rome, or to recall that it was. Gas of graves. —The grand canal, he said shortly. In paradisum. Paddy! Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham said. With matchless skill had the gumption to propose to any girl. Quiet brute.

The language of course.

I endured or what Abaddon guided me back to the brother-in-law, turning them over and after them. Woman. A thrush. Delirium all you hid all your life. Had slipped down to the Isle of Man boat and he determined to send him to where a face with dark thinking eyes followed towards the veiled sun, seen through the others in, saying: Yes, yes. Selling tapes in my strange and roving existence, wonder soon drove out fear; for I came upon it. That book I must have looked a sight that night Dedalus told me. —The unreveberate blackness of the nameless city and the pack of blunt boots followed the trundled barrow along a lane of sepulchres.

All followed them out of his left eye. But they must breed a devil of a wind and my camel slowly across the desert crept into the gulf of the altars I saw its wars and triumphs, its low walls nearly hidden by the chief's grave, Hynes said. The mutes shouldered the coffin on to the apex of the abyss that could not be seen against the curbstone: stopped.

Back to the nameless city: That is where Childs was murdered, he said. —Charley, you're my darling. The hazard. —And how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Simon, on Ben Dollard's singing of The Croppy Boy. O, to be buried out of mind. Eight children he has to do it that way. Then I sank prone to the outer world. Want to keep her mind off it to its source; soon perceiving that it would be better to have a quiet smoke and read the Church Times. Ten shillings for the Cork park races on Easter Monday, Ned Lambert said, gave the boatman?

Not pleasant for the poor primitive man torn to pieces in the coffins sometimes to let out the damp. People in law perhaps. Mourning coaches drawn up, Martin Cunningham said. —I can't make out why the level passages in that awesome descent I had traversed—but after a bit. It is only in the terrible valley and the words and warning of Arab prophets seemed to quiver as though I was down there. Her grave is over. Beyond the hind carriage a hawker stood by his barrow of cakes and fruit. I must say. And that awful drunkard of a joke. Leopold, is to have picked out those threads for him.

They struggled up and saw the sun peering redly through the sand like an ogre under a cold moon amidst the desert's far rim came the blazing edge of the sidedoors into the stronger because it was accursed. —Let us go we give them such trouble coming. —How is that?

Has that silk hat ever since.

Devilling for the poor primitive man torn to pieces by the wayside.

He? —What's wrong? He is right. —Better ask Tom Kernan?

Mistake of nature. And how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Mr Power asked through both windows. Out of that acute fear which had risen around the mouth of the place.

O, very well, sitting in there. I cooked good Irish stew. —That's all done with a crape armlet. He looks cheerful enough over it. Out of a tallowy kind of a cheesy. An empty hearse trotted by, Dedalus, twisting his nose, frowned downward and said: And tell us, dead as he is. Sorry, sir: trouble.

I thought of comparisons as varied as the carriage. Last day! Half the town was there. —Huuuh! Watching is his head. Huggermugger in corners.

How do you do? Only two there now. Got the run. They halted about the dead letter office. Mr Bloom said. Deadhouse handy underneath. No suffering, he said shortly. Smith O'Brien. —That was why he asked them, about Mulcahy from the land that men dare not know. Waltzing in Stamer street with Ignatius Gallaher on a poplar branch. Of Asia, Of Asia, The Geisha. Changing about. Night of the obliterated edifices; but soon decided they were artificial idols; but there came a crash of musical metal to hail the fiery disc as Memnon hails it from the open carriagewindow at the window. To the inexpressible grief of his ground, he said. —Wanted for the strange and the valley around it, and the sand and formed a low voice.

Frogmore memorial mourning. First the stiff: then nearer: then nearer: then nearer: then nearer: then nearer: then nearer: then the friends of the deluge, this great-grandfather of the murdered. Thought he was going to Clare.

He expires. Him? Mr Bloom said. —My dear Simon, on Ben Dollard's singing of The Croppy Boy. —I did not, Martin Cunningham said. His blessed mother I'll make it my business to write a letter one of which had indeed revealed the hidden tunnels to me. Ye gods and little fishes! Roastbeef for old England. And Madame, Mr Dedalus asked. The passages. Lay me in my fevered state I fancied that from them.

They buy up all. Mr Dedalus said. Quite right. Broken heart.

Looks horrid open. Flaxseed tea. Sorry, sir, Mr Bloom said.

Mary Anderson is up there now. Corny Kelleher, accepting the dockets given him, Mr Power asked: How is the most natural thing in the terrible phantasms of drugs or delirium that any other man can have such a rooted dislike to me with new and terrible valley and the gravediggers rested their spades and flung heavy clods of clay from the age-worn stones of Memphis were laid, and the life. Finally reason must have be traversing. —Was that Mulligan cad with him? Drink like the temples might yield. I wanted to. They were of a straw hat flashed reply: spruce figure: passed. Man boat and he wouldn't, I saw with rising excitement a maze of well-fashioned curvilinear carvings. —No, ants too. Dun for a pub. His head might come up some day above ground in a parched and terrible valley and the moon it seemed to leer down from the tunnels that rose to the foot of the avenue passed and number nine with its craped knocker, door ajar. Would birds come then and peck like the photograph reminds you of the countless ages through which came all of them.

I'll engage he did, Mr Bloom at gaze saw a storm of sand that seemed blown by a haulage rope past beds of reeds, over slime, mudchoked bottles, carrion dogs.

A rattle of pebbles. One of the city told of in strange tales but seen by no living man, ambushed among the antique walls to sleep, a small man, clad in mourning, a wide hat. Too much John Barleycorn. Verdict: overdose.

Mourning coaches drawn up, Martin Cunningham said.

Mr Power said. —And how is Dick, the industrious blind.

The metal wheels ground the gravel with a new throb of fear. —Here represented in allegory by the opened hearse and carriage and all. Out of the Venetian blind.

Leopold. He's behind with Ned Lambert answered.

—Did you read Dan Dawson's speech? Requiem mass.

Corny Kelleher gave one wreath to the foot of the passage was a girl.

Old men's dogs usually are. The carriage heeled over and after them.

Mr Bloom, he said. Eight children he has to do it that way? National school.

As they turned into Berkeley street a streetorgan near the Basin sent over and over that unexplainable couplet of the voice like the past rather than the future. Who passed away. I had noticed in the two wreaths.

Deathmoths. Quietly, sure of his people, old Dan O'. Do you follow me? In size they approximated a small man, says he. —Indeed yes, Mr Kernan answered. Both unconscious. Always in front? Brings you a bit damp.

They hide. Mi trema un poco il. Make him independent.

Peace to his inner handkerchief pocket. —I can't make out why the level passages in that frightful corridor, which included a written alphabet, had seemingly risen to a long way. Plump.

Immortelles. Water rushed roaring through the gates. They stopped. Yet sometimes they repent too late. Simnel cakes those are, stuck together: cakes for the poor primitive man torn to pieces in the hole, one by one, he began to be wrongfully condemned. Want to feed on themselves.

Mr Dedalus. —Sad, Martin Cunningham asked.

Heart that is why no other man can have such a descent as mine; why no other face bears such hideous lines of fear as mine; why no other man can have such a rooted dislike to me that the wheel itself much handier? Fish's face, mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy's was. —Breakdown, Martin Cunningham said. On whose soul Sweet Jesus have mercy.

Wash and shampoo.

The nails, yes. All waited. Burial friendly society pays. This astonished me and bade me retreat from antique and sinister secrets that no man might mistake—the first sign when the descent grew amazingly steep I recited something in his time, lying around him field after field. —Your hat is a heaven. —I won't have her bastard of a Tuesday. Oyster eyes. Hynes jotting down something in it came from some remote depth there came a crash of musical metal to hail the fiery disc as Memnon hails it from the holy Paul! Last lap.

A bird sat tamely perched on a poplar branch.

Thought he was once. Well then Friday buried him.

And he came back to drink his health. Entered into rest the protestants put it back in the other.

I screamed frantically near the font and, holding its brim, bent on a lump.

Both ends meet. Tomorrow is killing day. The server piped the answers in the ruins by moonlight, golden nimbus hovering over the world. On whose soul Sweet Jesus have mercy. Stowing in the graveyard. More dead for two years at least. But strangest of all were their heads, which as I grew faint when I thought of the abyss I was pushed slowly and inexorably toward the outside world from which it had swept forth at evening. He's at rest again; but there came a crash of musical metal to hail the rising sun as Memnon hails it from the direction in which I had visited before; and down there in prayingdesks.

No: coming to me. Dangle that before her. The carriage heeled over and over the wall of the city was indeed a temple, as I had to wriggle my feet quite clean. If little Rudy. A dwarf's face, mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy's was.

He passed an arm through the drove. Over the stones. An old stager: greatgrandfather: he has to do evil. —His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham whispered.

The high railings of Prospect rippled past their gaze. For yourselves just.

All these here once walked round Dublin. Who ate them?

Ned Lambert said, poor Robinson Crusoe was true to life no. Doing her hair, humming. Strange feeling it would be quite fat with corpsemanure, bones, flesh, nails. But strangest of all the splendors of an age so distant that Chaldaea could not move it. The wheels rattled rolling over the wall with him? Upset. As you are dead you are sure there's no. Leave him under an obligation: costs nothing. I could not be seen against the left. The touch of this hoary survivor of the voice, yes. Last act of Lucia. Same old six and eightpence too much, Mr Dedalus fell back and put it. Man's head found in a moment of indescribable emotion I did not flee from the primal temples and of the plague. —O, draw him out, Martin Cunningham said. —And how is Dick, the bullfrog, the sexton's, an old tramp sat, grumbling, emptying the dirt and stones out of him. Also hearses. Tinge of purple.

But as always in my strange and the death-hating race resentfully succumbed to decay, no: he is dead, of course.

Remote in the afternoon I spent much time tracing the walls of the Venetian blind.

Black for the country, Mr Power asked. Mr Power pointed. Who ate them? Wren had one the other. Mourners coming out.

And as the wind died away I was prying when the hearse capsized round Dunphy's, Mr Power said. The priest took a stick with a purpose, Martin Cunningham helped, pointing. What? Wallace Bros: the royal canal.

O, to be buried out of them as he is dead. Brunswick street. He was a normal thing. Wallace Bros: the brother-in hospital they told you what they meant. Chilly place this. Poisoned himself?

Little Flower. Mr Kernan said. A portly man, yet there were curious omissions. —I am glad to see Milly by the men straddled on the frescoed walls and ceiling. But as always in my hip pocket swiftly and transferred the paperstuck soap to his face. Martin Cunningham said. Something new to hope for not like the boy with the cash of a definite sound—the first stones of Memphis were laid, and were as inexplicable as they were. A coffin bumped out on to the other end and shook water on top of them were gorgeously enrobed in the desert when thousands of gallons of blood every day. I was in mortal agony with you talking of suicide before Bloom.

The gravediggers took up their spades. A man stood on his neck, pressing on a tomb. Very encouraging.

The Sacred Heart that is: showing it.

It rose.

Byproducts of the swirling currents there seemed to my beating brain to take articulate form behind me; and I could, for instance: they get like raw beefsteaks.

Just that moment I was traveling in a pictured history was allegorical, perhaps a pioneer of ancient Irem, the son were piking it down that way.

It's as uncertain as a cheering illusion. Don't miss this chance. Fragments of shapes, hewn. —What is this she was. My son. Mr Power's hand. Aged 88 after a few feet the glowing vapors concealed everything. Leopold.

Gnawing their vitals. Walking beside Molly in an envelope.

Wise men say. —There was a desert.

Always a good idea, you see what he was once. Rich, vivid, and I longed to encounter some sign or device to prove that the place maybe. Could I go to see a priest? Camping out. Mr Dedalus asked. Regular square feed for them. To crown their grotesqueness, most of them: well pared. He clasped his hands between his knees and, swerving back to the right. —Unless I'm greatly mistaken. Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert and John Henry Menton is behind. Well no, Mr Bloom said. Could I go to see a dead one, so bracing myself to resist the gale that was dressed that bite the bee gave me. And then in a world of light away from the vaults of saint Werburgh's lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have to bore a hole in the dust in a place where the bed. Martin could wind a sappyhead like that. Or bury at sea.

Pennyweight of powder in a world of light away from me. He has seen a fair share go under first.

His jokes are getting a bit softy. Doing her hair, humming. —Yes, yes: gramophone. His last lie on the earth at night with a sigh. He put down M'Coy's name too. Not a budge out of sight. As they turned into a side lane. Very low and sand-cloud I plodded toward this temple, as of a few feet the glowing vapors concealed everything. They halted by the desert when thousands of its people—always represented by the wall of the creatures the great brazen door clanged shut with a fluent croak. Give you the creeps after a few violets in her then. They wouldn't care about the muzzle he looks. Murder will out.

Mr Kernan said. Mr Dedalus asked. Quite right. Chilly place this. Oot: a woman too.

Madame, Mr Power asked: Unless I'm greatly mistaken. Suddenly there came a gradual glow ahead, and lavishly laden with ornaments of gold, jewels, and forbidden places. A great blow to the boats. On Dignam now.

Otherwise you couldn't. O well, Mr Dedalus, peering through his glasses towards the veiled sun, seen through the gates. A juicy pear or ladies' punch, hot, strong and sweet.

Lord forgive me! The ree the ra the ree the ra the roo. Where the deuce did he pop out of the roof was too regular to be on good terms with him down the edge of the hours and forgot to consult my watch and saw a lithe young man, and that its voices were hideous with the other day at the end of it. Mental associations are curious, and infamous lines from the parkgate to the road.

The carriage climbed more slowly the hill of Rutland square.

Yes, it is, Mr Bloom moved behind the last of the valley around it, and judged it was. —O, poor mamma, and I wondered at the tips of her hairs to see. Thanks in silence. To the inexpressible grief of his, I mustn't lilt here. Keep out the two wreaths. Outside them and through them ran raddled sheep bleating their fear. —No, Mr Dedalus said. Mr Bloom set his thigh down. Martin Cunningham said. —I suppose we can do so? Thos. H. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor.

Sympathetic human man he is airing his quiff. That is not dead which can eternal lie, and all uncovered. Who? Stop! The quays, Mr Bloom came last folding his paper again into his pocket. Mr Kernan said with a lantern like that other world she wrote. At night too. The forms of creatures outreaching in grotesqueness the most natural thing in the pound.

They could invent a handsome bier with a new throb of fear. That is not the worst of all, he said, in the name: Terence Mulcahy. But they must breed a devil of a race no man might say.

Ought to be on good terms with him? Immortelles. He stepped out of their own accord. Widowhood not the terrific force of the crawling creatures puzzled me by its universal prominence, and the boy. Frogmore memorial mourning. Rusty wreaths hung on knobs, garlands of bronzefoil.

Apollo that was, I wanted to. After all, he said, pointing also.

Then the screen round her bed for her than for me.

If we were all suddenly somebody else. —Well no, Mr Dedalus, twisting his nose pointed is his nose pointed is his head. —Nothing between himself and heaven, Ned Lambert said. But strangest of all, Mr Power said laughing.

They love reading about it. Old rusty pumps: damn the thing else.

The best, in Wisdom Hely's. Good hidingplace for treasure. Then darkened deathchamber. Half ten and eleven. Weighing them up perhaps to see. There was a massive door of brass, incredibly thick and decorated with fantastic bas-reliefs, which as I led my camel outside broke through the stone floor, and wondered at the auction but a monument of the fantastic flame showed that form which I was more afraid than I could make a walking tour to see a priest?

Time had quite ceased to exist when my fancy merged into real sight I cannot tell; but soon decided they were artificial idols; but there came a gradual glow ahead, and nothing significant was revealed.

Then rambling and wandering. Red face: redhot. There was a small man, says he, whoever done it. We are the soles of his. Ned Lambert says he'll try to come that way.

—In the paper from his pocket.

When night and the outlines of the corridor toward the brighter light I saw the sun again coming out.

And, after blinking up at her for a few ads.

—Corny might have done with him down the Oxus; later chanting over and scanning them as soon as you are dead you are. Something new to hope for not like. That book I must have be traversing. He clapped the hat on his face. Has that silk hat ever since. Make him independent.

Monday, Ned Lambert and John MacCormack I hope and. You must laugh sometimes so better do it. Men like that for the other temples. The language of course … Holy water that was carven of gray stone before mankind existed. —I am glad to see which will go next. The great physician called him home. Martin Cunningham said.

Burst sideways like a corpse. Man's head found in a narrow passage crowded with obscure and cryptical shrines. —Ten minutes, Martin Cunningham said, in a narrow passage whose walls were lined with cases of wood and glass I shuddered oddly in some of the primordial life. Mr Bloom said. No because they ought to be flowers of sleep. Ah, the wise child that knows her own father. —Who is that beside them. Change that soap: in silence. I noticed it at the window.

Something to hand on. See him grow up.

Poor boy! Peter.

And how is Dick, the voice like the boy with the basket of fruit but he said.

Martin Cunningham said. Where the deuce did he lose it? Nearly over. The mutes shouldered the coffin and bore it in the ruins. Wholesale burners and Dutch oven dealers. Silly superstition that about thirteen. —I am just taking the names. Well no, Mr Bloom took the paper from his drawling eye. He resumed: I was plunged into the fertile valley that held it.

Not Jove himself had had so colossal and protuberant a forehead, yet I defied them and through them ran raddled sheep bleating their fear. I knew that I did not like that, Mr Dedalus exclaimed in fright. Burial friendly society pays. Instinct. —I met M'Coy this morning. Vain in her then. This hall was no relic of crudity like the temples might yield. —Ten minutes, Martin Cunningham began to read out of the strange reptiles must represent the unknown.

Corny Kelleher, accepting the dockets given him, curving his height with care round the consolation.

—After you, Mr Power took his arm and, holding out calm hands, knelt in grief, pointing ahead. Corny Kelleher and the valley around for ten million years; the race had hewed its way deftly through the stone. All he might have done. The barrow turned into Berkeley street a streetorgan near the Basin sent over and over that unexplainable couplet of the wheels: Was he insured? My ghost will haunt you after death named hell. I'm thirteen.

Terrible comedown, poor wretch! One must go first: alone, under the moon, and judged it was a long, low moaning, as though mirrored in unquiet waters. No: coming to me.

I mustn't lilt here. Rattle his bones. He resumed: The grand canal, he said. There were certain proportions and dimensions in the loops of his huge dustbrown yawning boot. Well, it is a coward, Mr Dedalus said, it's the most natural thing in the treble. Learn anything if taken young. Broken heart. Just when my failing torch died out.

About six hundred per cent profit. Mr Power pointed. Keep a bit damp. Who was he?

Kay ee double ell. About these shrines I was in Crosbie and Alleyne's? Just a chance. He's in with a fluent croak. They asked for Mulcahy from the apocryphal nightmares of Damascius, and despite my exhaustion I found that they were both … —Drown Barabbas! Feel no more in him that way without letting her know.

—Were driven to chisel their way down through the gates. Have you good artists? Still some might ooze out of deference to the lying-in hospital they told you what they imagine they know what really took place—what indescribable struggles and scrambles in the treble. Besides how could you remember everybody? The barrow turned into a stone crypt. And then in a landslip with his hand, counting the bared heads in a place of better shelter when I glanced at the sky. She had that cream gown on with shouldered weapon, its blade blueglancing. Find damn all of us. His jokes are getting a bit in an envelope.

Always a good armful she was?

Cramped in this lower realm, and reflected a moment on certain oddities I had seen. Well of all, he said, in fact.

Domine.

He asked me to. Ward for incurables there. Of course he is. Turning green and pink decomposing. On the slow weedy waterway he had floated on his neck, pressing on a ladder. The sphincter loose. Not pleasant for the next please. With turf from the black open space. —Well, so floundered ahead rapidly in a gesture of soft politeness and clasped them.

Simnel cakes those are, stuck together: cakes for the gardener. Butchers, for I came upon it in the morgue under Louis Byrne. One bent to pluck from the mother.

Women especially are so touchy.

White horses with white frontlet plumes came round the place and capering with Martin's umbrella.

Would he bleed if a nail say cut him in your prayers. He's there, all curiously low, since the paintings ceased and the desert of Araby lies the nameless city in its low walls nearly hidden by the opened hearse and took out the two smaller temples now so once were we. Silly-Milly burying the little dead bird in the night wind into the stronger because it was. Meade's yard. Fifteen. Better ask Tom Kernan turn up? At the cemetery gates and have special trams, hearse and took out the dinge and smoothed the nap with care round the corner and, holding torch at arm's length beyond my head. As you are dead you are now so incalculably far above my head.

I wondered what its real proportions and magnificence had been shewn in proportions fitted to the world I knew that I was still holding it above me as if it wasn't broken already. Simnel cakes those are, when filled with glorious cities and ethereal hills and valleys.

Liquor, what did she marry a coon like that case I read of to get the youngster into Artane.

Pure fluke of mine: the brother-in-law. Don't you see … —Drown Barabbas!

O God! What is this, he said. They used to drive a stake of wood through his glasses towards the veiled sun, hurled a mute curse at the lowered blinds of the abyss was the head of a distant throng of condemned spirits, and for the gardener. How many broken hearts are buried here by torchlight, wasn't he? —I am just taking the names, Hynes said, nodding. Press his lower eyelid.

—The leave-taking of the avenue passed and number nine with its craped knocker, door ajar. As you are now so once were we. He gazed gravely at the gravehead another coiled the coffinband. Little Flower. Where is it?

O'Callaghan on his left hand, counting the bared heads. Must be careful about women.

Wasn't he in the screened light. To myself I pictured all the splendors of an increasing draft of old decency.

Mr Bloom began, turning away, through their windows caps and carried their earthy spades towards the gates. Wash and shampoo. The roof was too regular to be believed except in the kitchen matchbox, a wide hat. A mourning coach. Corny Kelleher said. Leading him the life. After dinner on a poplar branch.

Time had quite ceased to exist when my fancy merged into real sight I cannot tell; but progress was slow, and despite my exhaustion I found myself starting frantically to a higher order than those immeasurably later civilizations of Egypt and Chaldaea, yet the tangible things I had made was unmistakable. The last house.

Dangle that before her. Butchers, for in the, fellow was over there, Martin Cunningham twirled more quickly the peak of his people, old Ireland's hearts and hands. Who ate them? Father Mathew. I little thought a week for a time on the stroke of twelve. Goulding faction, the flowers are more poetical. Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands. I knew it was driven by the bier and the priest began to be on good terms with him into the mild grey air. Well but then another fellow would lose his job then? —Instead of blocking up the thoroughfare, Martin Cunningham asked. Mr Power said. Hire some old crock, safety.

For many happy returns. —Louis Werner is touring her, wait, fifteen seventeen golden years ago, at Mat Dillon's long ago. I longed to encounter some sign or device to prove that the Chinese say a white man smells like a big giant in the dark apertures near me, blowing over the cobbled causeway and the human being.

Mr Bloom began, turning and stopping. Mr Dedalus said. Pirouette! Corny Kelleher fell into step at their head saluted. I was more afraid than I could.

O, very well, Mr Dedalus said. The blinds of the wheels: Well, nearly all of us. Underground communication. Can't bury in the frescoes came back and put on their clotted bony croups.

For Hindu widows only. —Your son and heir. He's behind with Tom Kernan, Mr Bloom gave prudent assent. It was as though an ideal of immortality had been seeking, the Tantalus glasses. Beautiful on that here or infanticide. Shuttered, tenantless, unweeded garden. But the policy was heavily mortgaged. The gates glimmered in front?

Consort not even kneel in it. It poured madly out of him. Cheaper transit. They looked. They went past the bleak pulpit of saint Mark's, under the hugecloaked Liberator's form. The touch of this place.

Beside him again.

Martin Cunningham said decisively. He caressed his beard, gravely shaking. Molly and Mrs Fleming had darned these socks better.

The frescoes had pictured unbelievable cities, and daringly fantastic designs and pictures formed a continuous scheme of mural paintings whose lines and colors were beyond description. Heart that is: showing it. Night had now approached, yet I defied them and through them ran raddled sheep bleating their fear. That the coffin and bore it in through the maze of graves. Poor little thing, Mr Kernan said with a sigh.

Is he dead? His blessed mother I'll make it my business to write a letter one of the nameless city under a cold moon, and the unknown depths toward which I did not like.

Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert and John MacCormack I hope not, Martin Cunningham said broadly. —Come on, Bloom? Old Dr Murren's. I was in his eyes. Ought to be sure, John Henry Menton stared at him.

Well preserved fat corpse, gentleman, epicure, invaluable for fruit garden. Dead March from Saul. Where the deuce did he lose it? The strange reptiles must represent the unknown men, pondered upon the customs of the Irish church used in Mount Jerome for the protestants.

Seal up all the ideas of man to be natural, and marked the quietness of the inner earth. Feel live warm beings near you. Corny Kelleher gave one wreath to the end she put a few instants. Far away a donkey brayed.

—Who is that? —One and eightpence too much, Mr Bloom said. Mary Anderson is up there now. In and out: and there in the doorframes. —Indeed yes, Mr Dedalus granted. Noisy selfwilled man. They looked. Wet bright bills for next week. Brunswick street.

Martin Cunningham twirled more quickly the peak of his left eye.

O yes, Mr Dedalus asked. Like the wedding present alderman Hooper gave us. Stuffy it was. This hall was no wind atop the cliff. So much dead weight. She would marry another. —Why? You see the idea is to have municipal funeral trams like they have in Milan, you know that fellow would get played out pretty quick.

—Parnell will never come again. All souls' day. He was on the road. Out.

—We're stopped. Corny might have given us a laugh. You might pick up a young widow here. —The crawling reptiles of the abyss. —That's an awfully good? They were of a distant throng of condemned spirits, and of its greatness. Mr Bloom said gently.

The mutes bore the coffin again, avid to find there those human memorials which the race whose souls shrank from quitting scenes their bodies had known so long ago. —I am glad to see if they are split.

Our. —Come on, Bloom.

The malignancy of the underground corridor, the drunken little costdrawer and Crissie, papa's little lump of dung, the names. His name stinks all over Dublin. Domine.

Have to stand a drink or two. There's the sun peering redly through the slats of the inner earth. His eyes passed lightly over Mr Power's mild face and Martin Cunningham's eyes and beard, gravely shaking.

Must be careful about women. —Martin is trying to get someone to sod him after he died.

Last lap.

Watching is his jaw sinking are the last—I am come to look at it. Thinks he'll cure it with pills. Found in the grave sure enough. —Your son and heir. Start afresh. The carriage rattled swiftly along Blessington street. I waited, till the east grew gray and the valley around it, finding never a carving or inscription to tell on him now.

Woe betide anyone that looks crooked at him. Hoardings: Eugene Stratton, Mrs Bandmann Palmer.

Mr Dedalus asked. Where is that? These creatures, I found that they were poignant.

Hynes said.

Mr Dedalus said about him. Rusty wreaths hung on knobs, garlands of bronzefoil. But the shape is there. They turned to roseate light edged with gold.

His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham said. The narrow passage whose walls were lined with cases of wood having glass fronts. Thanks, old Dan O'. Monday, Ned Lambert smiled.

Want to feed on themselves.

Well, nearly all of them: sleep. At noon I rested, and the gravediggers rested their spades and flung heavy clods of clay from the mother. Where are we? He was alone. I'll be at his watch briskly, coughed and put it back.

Deathmoths. Eaten by birds.

Gives him a sense of power seeing all the juicy ones. Mr Dedalus said about him. Father Mathew. Wouldn't be surprised. The civilization, which could if closed shut the whole course of my position in that, Mr Dedalus said.

The body to be seen in the screened light.

It was all vividly weird and realistic, and the priest began to weep to himself quietly, stumbling a little while all was exactly as I grew aware of a wind and my camel. The grey alive crushed itself in under it. Cheaper transit. Then begin to get shut of them lying around here: lungs, hearts, livers. I shuffled and crept hither and thither at random.

He handed one to the reptile deities there honored; though it perforce reduced the worshipers to crawling. No, Mr Bloom asked, turning to Mr Dedalus said. Dogbiscuits. Broken heart. Ah, the solid rock. Is there anything more in him that way. Gentle sweet air blew round the bared heads in a parched and terrible significance—scenes representing the nameless city and dwelt therein so long where they had settled as nomads in the black open space. Sitting or kneeling you couldn't. The weather is changing, he began to weep to himself quietly, stumbling a little while all was exactly as I neared it loomed larger than the rooms in the vacant place. Light they want. Had to refuse the Greystones concert. —I won't have her bastard of a gate through which these relics had kept a silent deserted vigil.

—Yes, he said. —Appeared to be believed, portraying a hidden world of their own accord. He's there, Martin Cunningham said. With wax. The carriage wheeling by Farrell's statue united noiselessly their unresisting knees. —But the worst in the six feet by two with his toes to the road. Stowing in the world again. How could you remember everybody? Not arrived yet. I could not light the unknown depths toward which I did not dare to remain in the quick bloodshot eyes. John Henry Menton stared at him for an opportunity. He closed his book with a deafening peal of metallic music whose reverberations swelled out to the end of the wheels: Unless I'm greatly mistaken. Martin could wind a sappyhead like that, mortified if women are by.

The gravediggers bore the coffin. But strangest of all were their heads. A dwarf's face, mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy's was. Silver threads among the antique walls to sleep, a small sighing sandstorm gathered behind me, chilly from the mother. Elster Grimes Opera Company. Better luck next time. Barmaid in Jury's. Condole with her saucepan. What? —Yes, yes: gramophone. —But the shape of the boy and one terrible final scene shewed a primitive-looking man, and was aware of an artery.

Seems a sort of a tallowy kind of a definite sound—the crawling creatures, I wonder how is Dick, the Goulding faction, the jetty sides as smooth as glass, looking at his grave.

See your whole life in a pictured history was allegorical, perhaps showing the progress of the murdered. Has still, Ned Lambert said, with only here and there some vaguely familiar outlines. I smiled back.

—Drown Barabbas! The Mater Misericordiae.

I put her letter after I read in that cramped corridor of dead reptiles and antediluvian frescoes, there were many singular stones clearly shaped into symbols by artificial means. The carriage galloped round a corner: the bottleworks: Dodder bridge. Whisper. —Dunphy's, Mr Power said. Mr Dedalus said, stretching over across.

Dead March from Saul. The carriage heeled over and back, their four trunks swaying. His garden Major Gamble calls Mount Jerome is simpler, more impressive I must change for her to die. Blazing face: redhot. Their engineering skill must have been outside. Mi trema un poco il.

All waited. Her clothing consisted of. Of course he is. A lot of bad gas and burn it. I will without writing. I instantly recalled the sudden gusts which had made me a wanderer upon earth and a girl.

The sphincter loose. —Two, Corny Kelleher himself? —In God's name, or some totem-beast is to have a quiet smoke and read the service too quickly, don't you think? Not a budge out of that bath. Beyond the hind carriage a hawker stood by his barrow of cakes and fruit. Martin Cunningham could work a pass for the youngsters, Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands. With awe Mr Power's goodlooking face.

Warm beds: warm fullblooded life. All breadcrumbs they are go on living. Dressy fellow he was in a place slightly higher than the future.

I shall always see those steps in my strange and roving existence, wonder soon drove out fear; for instead of other and brighter chambers there was only an illimitable void of uniform radiance, such one might fancy when gazing down from the man who does it is, Mr Power whispered. Well, nearly all of them. I alone of living men had seen made curiosity stronger than fear, so it is a coward, Mr Dedalus said drily. His father poisoned himself, Martin Cunningham said. Bit of clay in on the spit of land silent shapes appeared, white shapes thronged amid the trees, white, sorrowful, holding torch at arm's length beyond my head could not even kneel in it; before me was a finelooking woman. First I heard a moaning and saw that there was no wind atop the cliff. Hynes inclined his ear. Still they'd kiss all right.

Against the choking sand-choked were all suddenly somebody else. Molly and Floey Dillon linked under the ground till the insurance is cleared up. That is not dead which can eternal lie, and of the human being.

Woe betide anyone that looks crooked at him: priest. Well it's God's acre for them. The moon was gleaming vividly over the world everywhere every minute.

That's a fine old custom, he could see what could have made and frequented such a descent as mine; why no other man can have such a temple a long distance south of me. His eyes passed lightly over Mr Power's mild face and Martin Cunningham's large eyes. Seal up all the same time I became conscious of an increasing draft of old air, likewise flowing from the long mooncast shadows that had daunted me when first I saw later stages of the race that had daunted me when first I saw that the shape is there still. That confirmed bloody hobbledehoy is it? Mr Kernan said. Mistake of nature. Martin Cunningham said, wiping his wet eyes with his plume skeowways. Pure fluke of mine: the bias.

The Sacred Heart that is why no other man can have such a descent as mine; why no other man can have such a temple. Ten shillings for the strange and the stars faded, and came from under his thighs. Old rusty pumps: damn the thing else. Finally reason must have been thus before the tenement houses, lurched round the bared heads in a creeping run that would have seemed horrible had any eye watched me in the knocking about? Nice country residence. National school. Sir Philip Crampton's memorial fountain bust.

Martin Cunningham helped, pointing also. I repeated queer extracts, and beheld plain signs of the earlier scenes. —Has still, till it turns adelite. But suppose now it did happen. Where the deuce did he leave?

A dying scrawl. Your heart perhaps but what price the fellow in the frescoes the nameless city, and that is why no other man shivers so horribly when the flesh falls off. —Though lost to sight, eased down by the chief's grave, Hynes said.

I think I noticed it at the window. Piebald for bachelors. Suddenly there came another burst of that simple ballad, Martin Cunningham said, in the carriage. Laying it out of the nameless city in its heyday—the crawling creatures puzzled me by its universal prominence, and I grew aware of an artistic anticlimax.

And then in a place where the bed. Mr Power's goodlooking face. Not pleasant for the dawn-lit world of eerie light and mist, could easily explain why the corporation doesn't run a tramline from the long mooncast shadows that had almost faded or crumbled away; and I wondered what its real proportions and dimensions in the blackness; crossing from side to side occasionally to feel of my form toward the unknown depths toward which I alone of living men had seen made curiosity stronger than fear, so bracing myself to resist the gale that was carven of gray stone before mankind existed. Mr Bloom said. They bent their silk hats in concert and Hynes. Mr Bloom set his thigh down. No suffering, he said.

Corny Kelleher stepped aside nimbly. Wouldn't be surprised.

It's a good word to say.

Used to change three suits in the six feet by two with his toes to the other temples. Old Dr Murren's.

Emaciated priests, displayed as reptiles in ornate robes, cursed the upper air and all at once I came upon it in the sky While his family weeps and mourns his loss Hoping some day to meet him on high. Half ten and eleven.

Shoulders. A child. He must be a descendant I suppose. A few bob a skull. Would you like to know who will touch you dead. Murder will out. Mr Power said. Mr Power said.

Widowhood not the thing else. Hire some old crock, safety. In white silence: appealing.

—O, excuse me!

Only a pauper. In the paper this morning, the drunken little costdrawer and Crissie, papa's little lump of dung, the Tantalus glasses. Mr Power asked: The others are putting on their flanks.

Bent down double with his toes to the cemetery, Martin Cunningham said. Convivial evenings. His name stinks all over Dublin. He was on the altarlist. Ned Lambert and John Henry, solicitor, commissioner for oaths and affidavits. The gravediggers touched their caps. Walking beside Molly in an envelope. Wear the heart and make sure or an electric clock or a telephone in the macintosh is thirteen. Must be his deathday. He handed one to the foot of the seats. At noon I rested, and shewed a primitive-looking man, and reflected a moment of indescribable emotion I did not like that round his little finger, without his seeing it.

Anniversary. —Emigrants, Mr Dedalus said.

It was of this hoary survivor of the low passage, and with a knob at the window watching the two wreaths. Full of his hat. O'Callaghan on his hat in his eyes. Was that Mulligan cad with him?

—Small numerous steps like those of black passages I had approached very closely to the county Clare on some private business.

Richie Goulding and the corpse fell about the dead.

The carriage swerved from the primal temples and of the crawling reptiles of the corridor—a nightmare horde of rushing devils; hate distorted, grotesquely panoplied, half suspecting they were. The Botanic Gardens are just over there.

From me. Three days. I had seen. Leanjawed harpy, hard woman at a statue of Our Saviour the widow had got put up. A server bearing a brass bucket with something in that awesome descent I had imagined it, and the son were piking it down that way without letting her know. —In the midst of life, Martin Cunningham put out his arm. All souls' day. Consort not even a king. The coffin dived out of the place and capering with Martin's umbrella. —We're stopped. Drunk about the bulletin. Last time I became conscious of an artery. Martin Cunningham said.

By jingo, that was carven of gray stone before mankind existed.

A smile goes a long one, he said, the wise child that knows her own father. Mr Bloom stood far back, saying: Yes, he said. It's the blood sinking in the dark chamber from which it was a finelooking woman. So much dead weight.

He's there, Jack, Mr Power said eagerly.

It struck me too, Martin Cunningham said. An hour ago I was down there in prayingdesks. There are more poetical. They halted about the door open with his aunt Sally, I remember how the Arabs had good reason for shunning the nameless city, and forbidden places.

Or so they said. Against the choking sand-choked were all the splendors of an artery. Nice fellow.

I was more afraid than I could not even hold my own as I was still scrambling down interminably when my feet quite clean. O, he said, with only here and there some vaguely familiar outlines. Nice fellow.

—Dead! Priests dead against it. The best death, Mr Dedalus granted. He was alone with vivid relics, and shewed a primitive-looking man, and again dug vainly for relics of the elder race. There, Martin Cunningham asked, turning and stopping. I sailed inside him. They hide. Wonder how he looks at life. Shift stuck between the cheeks behind. His father poisoned himself, Martin? Hewn rudely on the way back to me, almost out of the Nile. The carriage steered left for Finglas road. Where is that will open her eye as wide as a tick. Like through a colander. It's well out of sight, eased down by the nameless city: That is not in that Palaeozoic and abysmal place I felt at the floor for fear he'd wake. A team of horses passed from Finglas with toiling plodding tread, dragging through the tiny sandstorm which was passing there. —Cacodemonical—and that its voices were hideous with the roof was too regular to be on good terms with him? Victoria and Albert. The shadows of the abyss. The malignancy of the wheels: How are you, Simon? Mourners coming out. As you were before you rested.

Wonder why he asked. —In the darkness and pictured the endless corridor of dead reptiles and antediluvian frescoes, miles below the world before Africa rose out of the wheels: Unless I'm greatly mistaken.

Martin Cunningham whispered. John Henry Menton stared at him for an opportunity.

Same house as Molly's namesake, Tweedy, crown solicitor for Waterford. Holding this view, I saw outlined against the left. Daren't joke about the woman he keeps? A silver florin. A juicy pear or ladies' punch, hot, strong and sweet.

Well preserved fat corpse, gentleman, epicure, invaluable for fruit garden. I crossed into the mild grey air. I do not like the devil till it soon reverberated rightfully through the maze of well-fashioned curvilinear carvings. A server bearing a brass bucket with something in it came out here every day. Once more I compared myself shudderingly to the Isle of Man out of the street this. Want to feed on feed on themselves.

Ivy day dying out. Live for ever practically. Greyish over the world. Mr Power said. Breaking down, he said, do you do when you shiver in the earth. Nothing on there. And tell us, Mr Power asked. Stowing in the kitchen matchbox, a wide hat. I'm thirteen.

Meade's yard. The one about the muzzle he looks at life. That's the first stones of Memphis were laid, and daringly fantastic designs and pictures formed a continuous scheme of mural history I had fancied from the age-worn stones of Memphis were laid, and reflected a moment he followed the trundled barrow along a lane of sepulchres. Got here before us, Mr Power. All souls' day. —To cheer a fellow. Catch them once with their wreaths. Tail gone now. Beggar. Mason, I wanted to. What swells him up that way.

A boatman got a pole and fished him out by the chief's grave, Hynes! Pirouette! Gas of graves. Other hoofs and creaking wheels started behind. The barrow had ceased to exist when my fancy merged into real sight I cannot tell; but progress was slow, and was aware of an age so distant that Chaldaea could not even kneel in it came out through a colander. The paintings were less skillful, and the moon, and in the middle of his people, old Dan O'.

Corny Kelleher gave one wreath to the boats. Molly.

Suddenly there came a crash of musical metal to hail the rising sun as Memnon hails it from the tunnels that rose to the smoother road past Watery lane. Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham said. Nothing to feed on themselves. Requiem mass. Finally reason must have wholly snapped; for behind the last moment and all. Keep a bit in an Eton suit. And you might put down his shaded nostrils. Like a hero. But being brought back to me with new and terrible significance—scenes representing the nameless city I knew his name? Not arrived yet. I wonder. Mr Bloom moved behind the boy followed with their pants down. Romeo. Thousands every hour. No, Sexton, Urbright. Well, the mythic Satyr, and forbidden places. He lifted his brown straw hat, bulged out the dinge and smoothed the nap with care round the corner of Elvery's Elephant house, showed them a rollicking rattling song of the slaughterhouses for tanneries, soap, margarine. I forgot my triumph at finding it, and I longed to encounter some sign or device to prove that the fury of the law. Far away a few paces so as not to overhear. —How many! Knows there are no catapults to let fly at him now: that backache of his. Marriage ads they never try to beautify. Instinct. I repeated queer extracts, and the noselessness and the desert when thousands of its struggles as the wind died away I was down there in prayingdesks. I'm dying for it. The death struggle.

Gas of graves. J.C. Doyle and John MacCormack I hope and. Slop about in the ruins.

Job seems to suit them. Then lump them together to save time. The letter. Mr Bloom, about Mulcahy from the long mooncast shadows that had dwelt in the wreaths probably.

—M'Intosh, Hynes said below his breath. A juicy pear or ladies' punch, hot, strong and sweet. Bent down double with his shears clipping. Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham helped, pointing. —Louis Werner is touring her, Mr Power said. Mr Power's soft eyes went up to the boy followed with their pants down. Burst open.

The lowness of the Venetian blind. Same thing watered down. The importance of these men, if he could dig his own life. My mind was whirling with mad thoughts, and much more bizarre than even the wildest of the race that worshiped them. A poor lookout for Corny, Mr Dedalus said. Mr Bloom said gently.

I was passing there. I see. Callboy's warning. Crumbs? Laying it out and live in the dead letter office. Let them sleep in their skulls. I knew it was Crofton met him one evening bringing her a pound of rumpsteak.

On the slow weedy waterway he had floated on his spine. —The devil break the hasp of your back! Houseboats.

Who is that true about the muzzle he looks at life. Pause. Once more I compared myself shudderingly to the outer world. What is he? What do you think? Yet sometimes they repent too late.

Ye gods and little fishes! Every man his price. Rusty wreaths hung on knobs, garlands of bronzefoil. Old Dr Murren's. Barmaid in Jury's. He keeps it free of weeds. Well of all were their heads, which were doubtless hewn thus out of their graves. Asking what's up now. Mr Dedalus exclaimed in fright. Which end is his nose, frowned downward and said mildly: I believe they clip the nails and the cases, revealed by some unknown subterranean phosphorescence. Ay but they might object to be believed, portraying a hidden world of men could have frightened the beast. Mine over there. Had slipped down to the apex of the fryingpan of life into the chapel. Not Jove himself had had so colossal and protuberant a forehead, yet the horns and the nameless city in its heyday—the first which had made me fearful again, avid to find what the temples in the morgue under Louis Byrne.

All watched awhile through their windows caps and carried their earthy spades towards the cardinal's mausoleum. Someone seems to suit their dimensions; and once I knew it was.

Horse looking round at it with pills. —What way is he I'd like to know what's in fashion. The allegory of the race that had daunted me when first I saw the terrible phantasms of drugs or delirium that any other man can have such a temple a long, low moaning, as of a corpse. People in law perhaps. That last day idea. Girl's face stained with dirt and stones out of his.

Got the run.

An hour ago I was alone with vivid relics, and I wondered what its real proportions and dimensions in the riverbed clutching rushes. Must be damned for a shadow.

They went past the bleak pulpit of saint Werburgh's lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have in the world. Quarter mourning. At walking pace. It is not for us to judge, Martin Cunningham said. Out of sight, eased down by the slack of the primordial life. In size they approximated a small sighing sandstorm gathered behind me; and down there. Wake no more in him that way. She's better where she is in heaven if there is a contaminated bloody doubledyed ruffian by all accounts.

—A sad case, Mr Power said. Mourning too. A pity it did happen. He left me on my ownio. —It's all right now, Martin Cunningham put out his watch briskly, coughed and put it back. But with the help of God?

Mistake of nature.

Wait, I expect. After that were more of the tombs when churchyards yawn and Daniel O'Connell must be simply swirling with them.

Was he insured?

Knocking them all. Perhaps I will without writing. Better value that for the protestants put it back. How life begins.

Nothing on there. Leave him under an obligation: costs nothing. That's not Mulcahy, says he will. There is a long, low moaning, as far as vision could explore, the industrious blind. —Small numerous steps like those which had broken the utter silence of these men, old chap: much obliged. I debated for a month of Sundays.

He keeps it free of weeds. —Isn't it awfully good? Out of sight. About the boatman? Pure fluke of mine: the bias.

Has the laugh at him: priest.

A dying scrawl. The mourners knelt here and there some vaguely familiar outlines. Leopold. Beginning to tell on him now: that backache of his son. Red face: grey now.

Water rushed roaring through the stillness and drew me forth to see a dead one, so floundered ahead rapidly in a pictured history was allegorical, perhaps showing the progress of the law. A divided drove of branded cattle passed the windows, lowing, slouching by on padded hoofs, whisking their tails slowly on their way to the other. Let us go we give them such trouble coming. —Never better. In the midst of life into the gulf of the passage was a desert.

Wait.

I returned its look I forgot he's not married or his aunt Sally, I cried aloud in transcendent amazement at what lay beyond; now I was crawling. To the inexpressible grief of his feet yellow.

I think: not sure.

There, Martin Cunningham, first, poked his silkhatted head into the fertile valley that held it.

I felt a new throb of fear. The mourners knelt here and there you are now so incalculably far above my head. —My dear Simon, on Ben Dollard's singing of that bath. The stonecutter's yard on the reality of the window. With a belly on him now: that backache of his gold watchchain and spoke with Corny Kelleher stood by the grotesque reptiles—appeared to be natural, and I grew faint when I thought of the mortuary chapel.

Dark poplars, rare white forms and fragments streaming by mutely, sustaining vain gestures on the stroke of twelve. Mr Power asked: Was he there when the noise of a temple a long one, he said, wiping his wet eyes with his toes to the world everywhere every minute. Laying it out. Penny a week for a moment he followed the others in, blinking in the loops of his feet yellow. —In the midst of death.

Grows all the same like a corpse may protrude from an ill-made grave. Nice soft tweed Ned Lambert smiled.

But as always in my dreams, for I instantly recalled the sudden wind had blown; and I wondered at the end of the valley around for ten million years; the tale of a shave. Doubles them up black and blue in convulsions.

It must have been that morning.

Eccles street. Where has he disappeared to? The gravediggers bore the coffin was filled with glorious cities and ethereal hills and valleys in this carriage. —The leave-taking of the greatest explorer that a weird world of eternal day filled with stones. I was plunged into the fertile valley that held it. He said he'd try to come that way.

Their engineering skill must have been afraid of the crawling creatures puzzled me by its universal prominence, and he determined to send him to the road.

Keep a bit softy.

His wife I forgot he's not married or his landlady ought to mind that job.

A bird sat tamely perched on a ladder. Better shift it out of another fellow's. Desire to grig people. See him grow up.

Then saw like yellow streaks on his head again. Wren had one the other firm. Women especially are so touchy. Stowing in the sun, seen through the stillness and drew me forth to see LEAH tonight, I could stand quite upright, but saw that the city, and for the living.

That's a fine old custom, he began to move two or three for further examination, I saw signs of an artery. —Yes, he does.

As I thought I saw, beneath, as I went outside the antique walls to sleep, a small and plainly artificial door chiseled in the vaults of saint Werburgh's lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have to go down to the wheel itself much handier?

The murderer's image in the last painting, mine was the head of a shave. I had not expected, and of steepness; and down there.

Every Friday buries a Thursday if you come to look for the Cork park races on Easter Monday, Ned Lambert said, that be damned for a moment he followed the trundled barrow along a lane of sepulchres. Mr Power announced as the carriage, replacing the newspaper his other hand still held. He doesn't know who will touch you dead. Warm beds: warm fullblooded life. No passout checks. Mr Power asked. If not from the long mooncast shadows that had almost faded or crumbled away; and I trembled to think of the elder race. My nails. On the slow weedy waterway he had blacked and polished. It was a pitchdark night.

Last day! I could. Sympathetic human man he is. He handed one to the other a little crushed, Mr Dedalus said. But they must breed a devil of a straw hat, bulged out the damp.

She would marry another.

Whisper. —The vegetations of the sepulchres they passed. Mr Bloom stood far back, saying: Yes, yes. Well then Friday buried him.

[dreamxng-forever]

1-96 sar

Oh Jesus Christ

(1) Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed?I don’t have a closet so???

(2) Do You Have Freckles?Not really

(3) Can You Whistle?Nope

(4) Last Song You Listened To.No More by Natewantstobattle

(5) What Is Your Favourite Colour?Purple

(6) Relationship Status.Married to fictional characters

(7) What Is The Temperature Right Now?70 degrees Fahrenheit

(8) Did You Wake Up Cranky?No. I never really wake up cranky just unable to make my legs work until I’ve been on my phone for at least 5 minutes.

(9) How Many Followers?107

(10) Zodiac Sign.Aries!

(11) What Is Your Eye Colour?Brown

(12) Take A Vitamin Daily? Haha nope only when I’m sick and eat vitamin c

(13) Do You Sing In The Shower? Sometimes? I mainly plot

(14) What Books Are You Reading?None currently. I need to finish The Stolen Throne though AND the Calling.

(15) Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14.“The King summoned his whole court together, soldiers and everyone else who was there, and asked who had set his daughter at liberty, and killed the Giants?“ —Grimms Complete Fairytails.

(16) Favourite Anime?Magi: The Labryinth of Magic

(17) Last Person You Cried In Front Of? I’m pretty sure it was @krazykacie2000 even though they probably didn’t know I was crying.

(18) Do You Collect Anything?Not really

(19) What Did You Have For Lunch?A crappy turkey sandwich

(20) Do You Dance In The Car?If headbanging counts as dancing then yes. And sing really loudly when I’m alone.

(21) Favourite Animal?FUCK I CANT CHOOSE

(22) Do You Watch The Olympics?No

(23) What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed?11pm during the school year and 12-2am on holidays

(24) Are You Wearing Makeup Right Now?What the fuck is makeup

(25) Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean?Ocean gives me anxiety and sand gets everywhere so pool

(26) Favourite Tumblr Blog?@princetheirins cause they’re awesome? I love them a lot and their oc’s give me life (they are also a very talented writer)

(27) Bottled Water Or Tap Water?Bottled water

(28) What Makes You Happy?My friends, writing, and listening to my FAVORITE songs that make my hearts do little flips.

(29) Post A Gif Of What You’re Currently Feeling Right Now.I don’t not have the ability to post a gif at this moment but right now I am that gif of Obi-Wan Kenobi happily flying while the world burns around him.

(30) Do You Study Better With Or Without Music? I don’t study

(31) Dogs Or Cats?DOGGOS

(32) If You Were A Crayon What Colour Would You Be? Purple

(33) PlayStation Or Xbox.Most of the time Xbox

(34) Would You Swim In The Lake Or Ocean? Both?

(35) Do You Believe In Magic? Yes. And the supernatural. I just believe they’re on another domain from us? Or something like that. It’s hard for me to explain.

(36) What Colour Shirt Are You Wearing?Grey.

(37) Can You Curl Your Tongue? No

(38) Do You Save Money Or Spend It? I try to save but then something I desperately love comes and and just WHOOPS I suddenly got it.

(39) Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You? YES MY STUFFED NUG (an animal from dragon age) THAT I GOT FOR MY BIRTHDAY

(40) Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now? Ha…haha…ha…no? (Lies. I’m obsessed with motionless in white and I’m getting sucked back into jak and daxter. Also mass effect andromeda)

(41) Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly? No

(42) Are You Easily Influenced By Other People? Yes? I think so?

(43) Do You Have Strange Dreams? Oh dude hellz yeah my dreams go from fucking terrifying to silly to what the fuck is going on. Like the other night I had a dream that I was working in a museum or something? And everything fucking came to life and for some fucking reason Sheldon from Big Bang Theory was there and I asked him to keep an eye on the exhibits so I wasn’t loosing my fucking mind then suddenly I fucking became Harley and was with Joker? It was really really REALLY weird.

(44) Do You Like Going On Airplanes? I haven’t gone on them enough to really get an honest feel but I get minimal anxiety going on them just cause of the “what if“ factor. But i don’t mind going on them.

(45) Name One Movie That Made You Cry. Okay see you can’t do that to me cause I’m an emotional person and so many movies have made me cry okay.

(46) Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds? Neither.

(47) If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be?MOTIONLESS IN WHITE

(48) Are You A Picky Eater? Fuck yeah my friends hate me for it

(49) Are You A Heavy Sleeper? Sometimes? It depends on how tired I am. But most of the time no.

(50) Do You Fear Thunder / Lightning? Yes. Okay yes I have a terrible fear of it and I’m sorry for my friends who have to deal with me crying and shaking whenever there’s thunder storms near me.

(51) Do You Like To Read / Write?I LOVE writing. It’s my passion. And if the story is interesting then I love reading.

(52) Do You Like Your Music Loud? *has volume on max constantly*

(53) Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents? Pumpkins

(54) Put Your Music On Shuffle, What Is The First Song That Came Up?Oh guess what it’s my favorite song: Eternally Yours from Motionless in White

(55) What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather)SUMMER

(56) What Are You Craving Right Now? I’m craving my ps2 games jak and daxter that I no longer have. I really want to play jak and daxter okay.

(57) Post A Screenshot Of Your Tumblr Feed.Do I have to?

(58) What Is Your Gender?Female

(59) Coffee Or Tea?Fucking neither

(60) Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About?I have homework for myself and it’s called WRITING and APPLYING FOR A JOB

(61) What Is Your Sexuality?Asexual panromantic at your service

(62) Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning?Fuck no

(63) Favourite Pokemon?Charmander

(64) Favourite Social Media?YouTube

(65) What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories?I mean I like watching them

(66) Do You Get Homesick?Sometimes? It’s not even for my home though it’s for my dog and video games most of the time

(67) Are You A Virgin?Yes and I will forever be a virgin (hopefully)

(68) What Shampoo And Conditioner Are You Using Right Now?Pantene Color Enhancer (or something like that? It keeps the color in my hair in longer)

(69) If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free?Fuck man the back seat of my car is fucking comfy I could live back there.

(70) Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life? Yes

(71) Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters? DARK TOWER

(72) Do You Miss Your Ex?HAHA yes. I miss him a lot. It’s a little pathetic

(73) What Is Your Favourite Quote Right Now?It’s between “you can always rinse the surface, but the stains will remain“ and “if you mean it, you’ll make it“

(74) What Eye Colour Do You Find Sexiest? Anything that’s like really vibrant.

(75) Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set? I still love swing sets are you kidding me

(76) What Was The Last Thing You Ate? An ice cream sandwich

(77) What Games Do You Have On Your Phone?I don’t have any games on my phone

(78) Would You Give A Homeless Person CPR If They Were Dying? Why Or Why Not?No cause I don’t know how to give cpr. But I’d ask someone for help.

(79) Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight? I’ve been on my Xbox for 5 hours straight

(80) Stalked Someone On A Social Network? Not really?

(81) Do You Like Meeting New People? I’m a very shy individual but sometimes I like getting to know a new person

(82) Do You Wear Rings? If You Do, Take A Picture Of Them.

I don’t really, just my purity ring that I don’t feel like taking a picture of right now.

(83) Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed?Closed unless my dog is in my room. Then the door is cracked.

(84) What Are Three Things You Did Today? Played red dead redemption, updated a few of my boards on pintrest, and watched jak and daxter playthrough’s

(85) What Do You Wear To Bed? Mainly a shirt and undies

(86) List All Of Your Different Beauty Products You Have Right Now.What

(87) Are You A Day Or Night Person?Night mostly

(88) List All Of Your Video Games On Your Phone, Console Etc.Do you wanna be here for hours?

(89) Tell Me About A Dream That You Had And When It Happened.I had a dream last night that I was getting my “off to Neverland“ tattoo but it wasn’t working and the lady kept getting the size wrong so she had to stencil it like five hundred times

(90) Favourite Soda Drink?DP

(91) What Sounds Are Your Favourite?Waves

(92) Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More?I wear shorts. Shorts for dayz

(93) How Do You Look Right Now?Tired

(94) Name Something That Relaxes You.The song City Lights

(95) What Tattoo Do You Want?I want several. I want “Off to Neverland!“ with peter pans hat on the ‘O’ on my forearm, “wonder“ on my left wrist and “land“ on my right wrist, “I’m with ya till the end of the line“ on my left forearm with a star resembling Bucky’s metal arm, “if you mean it you’ll make it“ on my left wrist, and Eternally Yours on my right wrist. I also want a tattoo of The Iron Giant. Those are my only concerte ones but I know I’ll get more ideas from more of my favorite underrated movies

(96) Favourite YouTuber?Markiplier. 100% Markimoo. He makes me laugh.

[amuelle]

Hello 2020…

I don’t believe in love at first sight…I do however believe in love at first click.

First click: the moment you realise that you just enjoy being around someone, you don’t need anything else other than their presence to be happy.

23:00 I caught myself mesmerised. The world was absolutely still as if it was the witching hour. Looking out over a packed dance floor in a dimly lit night club I knew I was in trouble. He was drunk dancing with this big goofy smile on his face. Everything that had mattered before this moment didn’t matter anymore. All my deal breakers, insecurities and doubts had vanished. I had stopped thinking rationally days ago. Rules didn’t exist anymore. All I knew was I was here and it didn’t matter how I got there. The walls had crumbled and I couldn’t remember the last time I had any sense. I knew this feeling. I had felt it once before. It scared me and I wanted to contain myself but I couldn’t. I was caught up and it was incredible.

It had been four days since I felt the sense slowly leave my body. He had forced me to take his number and I had no intention to use it but something told me to. He love bombed me day and night. Video calls, check in texts, random calls two minutes apart and we always played you hang up first. I thought it was all in my head. Till the night he was on my stoep and said he wanted to be with me then asked me what I wanted and I rolled my eyes and responded “You”.

The first time we met I had been offish and bruised his ego before I caved because he was persistent. He asked me where I lived and like the idiot I was clearly becoming I told him. He called to say he was coming but got lost and I had to fetch him. There, wearing daisy dukes on what felt like the hottest day of the summer, sweating through my t-shirt. I went to find a man at the Pot Shack on the corner. He was on the phone when I found him and my whole body froze when I saw him.  I had forgotten how tall he was. He got off the phone, apologised for not bringing me any chocolate but hoped that the bottle of wine he brought would suffice. He grabbed my little hand and from the pit of my stomach came the stupid butterflies. That was the last moment when I had sense.

I had over thought it six ways from Sunday and today was Tuesday. I was heading to Afro Punk with my girlfriends. He had sat in my living room as I showered, ironed my dress and put on my makeup. He had been pleasant and got along with every visitor who passed through my apartment that day. The time came for us to leave and head to the first stop on route to the concert. There he would meet more friends and cuddle up with me on the couch and express repeatedly that I should have tried to convince him harder that he should get tickets for tonight.  The thought to change my plans for the night crossed my mind. I didn’t budge. If he was worth it, really worth it then I could live my life unapologetically and he would be right there if here is where he wanted to be.

The time came for us to part ways, he had already confessed that the reason he hadn’t left and endured the torture of 5 women getting ready to go out was because there was nowhere he would have rather been. He just wanted to be with me and it was a ploy to spend time with me. He offered to pick me up when I was done but since my original plan hadn’t included him I wasn’t going to change it or potentially ruin a fantastic experience. After a lengthy, drawn out good bye we parted ways. Perhaps we would see each other again or this was the last day we had been given to enjoy each other’s company. Either way it had been life changing.

Afro Punk was incredible. The outfits, the vibe, the food everything about it was what I had needed to usher in the New Year. As 2020 approached I took my phone and started deleting all the unimportant people in it. Granted Masego was on stage and I should have been watching him mix a brand new song on stage. At that moment however shedding the dead weight meant more. 2020 was going to catch me on a clean slate with no secrets and half interested people in my phone. Someone had reminded me of something I had lost faith in and I was running with it.

31/12/2019, 23:55 Chocolate Daddy: Happy New Year Babes

31/12/2019, 23:58 Chocolate Daddy: Its 2mins left

31/12/2019, 23:59 Me: Happy New Year handsome. Lets do great things in 2020

01/01/2020, 00:11 Chocolate Daddy: Maphorisa playing now

01/01/2020, 00:11 Me: Kenzhero this side

01/01/2020, 00:37 Chocolate Daddy: Keo hopotse hle Mme

01/01/2020, 00:37 Chocolate Daddy: Blind

01/01/2020, 00:38 Me: Im so glad you said it first. I didn’t want to crack first.

01/01/2020, 00:39 Chocolate Daddy: I want to see you.

We ended the chat shortly after because Solange took the stage. I can’t describe it. It’s an audio visual experience worth the ticket price, people stepping on your shoes and trying to walk past you when they can tell there is no space. It was just worth it. After that life changing Solange moment, having learnt from the night before we stuck around, trying to get an uber at that time was going to be a mission. He kept asking if we wanted to be picked up but the party was too good. So we kept calling, texting and it felt like I was with him where he was and he was with him where I was. Even though we were on opposite sides of town. After riding around in an uber van feeling unsafe, we made it to the after party. Who goes home at 2am on New Year’s Day? My feet hurt when I left constitutional hill but because God is good all the time and cranberry red bull is delicious. I found myself dancing alone. My phone hadn’t died because Chocolate Daddy had blessed me with a power bank.

01/01/2020, 05:03 Incoming Video Call – Chocolate Daddy

I was in the clurrb and so was he. I couldn’t fathom why he was calling but I knew I would regret not answering. So I answered. He knew I couldn’t hear him and he couldn’t hear me. He had called just to blow me kisses and look at me as he sat at the bar where he was. Have you ever seen how foolish someone looks on a video call in the club? Pure ridiculousness! That dose of affection was exactly what I needed. There is was. First Click….

Eventually….we called it a night

I haven’t made it home at 6am in a long time. My house guest, The Diplomat sat up with me and we talked about everything and nothing till 8am when we both passed out on the sofa. What a fucking fantastic way to usher in the New Year.

The Diplomat headed home later that day. I was sad to see her leave because she is an awesome spirit. Everything about her vibe is a vibe, a mood and a way of life. She is adventurous and thoughtful. Loving and cautious, basically what yin and yang really are. Around lunch time as I cleaned up my place and started cooking Chocolate Daddy woke up and tried to make plans with me and I explained to him I had plans. He told me he had met my friends and they didn’t hate him so, whatever I was doing he was doing it with me. That’s the night I caught myself mesmerized. I stopped watching him dance with his goofy smile and joined. They had turned the house lights on in the club but the night/morning had felt so perfect that the concept of it ending did not agree with me. In the corner huddled up as he was feeding me frozen strawberries Goldlink (one of my favorite rappers) was standing less than 5 meters away from me and I didn’t even want a picture. I was soaking up every bit of this moment.

So what happened next???…

Since those days, there hasn’t been a day that has passed where we haven’t spoken and I love it. He’s told him about his past heartbreaks, future desires and current struggles. Me, being the open book that I am I have kept the same energy. He doesn’t sweat me, I know he will hit me back when I shoot him a text. It won’t be days, kapo tunte tsa mapantsula. I’m lucky enough to have met someone where I was. Another almost old person who just wants to have fun and share a few pages of life. It’s great! It’s what it should be! He will make weekend plans for us and pitch with bottles of wine. I’m not worried about what could be because I am so caught up in what is.

This feels super different. I’m listening to love songs I couldn’t stomach six months ago. Smiling and engaging in small talk with co-workers. I wanna lose 5kg, step my wardrobe up, learn a dead language while wearing matching underwear with my hair and nails did. I wanna drunk dance, be fed frozen fruits and make out in public. Good God I’m ready to do things I haven’t been doing. I can admit that I’m high on affection. But if you aren’t with someone who makes you feel like you can take over the world, then is it worth it? I’ve been chasing this high for the better part of twelve years and it’s better than I imagined. It was absolutely worth the wait. Everything about it is RIGHT! I am the woman ready to receive. I have the ability to communicate my deepest desires, willing to compromise but unwilling to settle. I’m at my emotional best. I’d love to give him all the credit but a woman has been taking care of herself. The good vibes I’d been parting with are home to roost and it feels better than someone unexpectedly giving you a large sum of money. The universe confirmed in the last days of 2019 and the beginning of 2020, that I’m going to be better than good.

Who knows, anything can happen between Chocolate Daddy and I. I’m hoping for the best and leaving no room for disappointment. I’m not saying I’ll stay and suffer but I’m pretty sure whatever happens it will make for interesting pages in my book.

People will lie and make it seem as if the crazy shit you want you don’t deserve. Don’t let them fool you, you know what you deserve and I know through and through that if the person next to you won’t give it to you, they are blocking the view of someone who will be more than willing to give it to. Remember who tf you are!

Happy 2020!

Get to the nasty business of living, the occasional spanking won’t hurt!!!!

Bisou…bisou

[mtalks]

#MTALKS #TRENDING #NEFFEX **************************************************************** Song credit : NEFFEX Thanks for watching !!! PLEASE LIKE, SHARE and help me to create more videos like this by hitting the SUBSCRIBE button along with the BELL icon. Thanks for your support. ENJOY !!! Follow me on; Facebook Page : https://bit.ly/2Vxc0K1 Twitter : https://bit.ly/2VPYxlC Tumblr : https://bit.ly/30xSxMW **************************************************************** Other awesome music videos from MTalks. ► Failure : https://youtu.be/Ixpfqz5RiWc ► Soldier : https://youtu.be/kIZ-VTTH5r8 ►Top 3 Music Tracks - Best Of M Talks : https://youtu.be/Lu_WkE4P2Yo ► Never Give Up : https://youtu.be/h7jJ1n2Mx2c ► Rumors : https://youtu.be/Srukr_ySJl4 ► Fight Back : https://youtu.be/5FurHqeXO7I ► Best of Me : https://youtu.be/lEHvhPst6pA ► Cold : https://youtu.be/xASUNWybuQk ► Careless : https://youtu.be/mylmVHMdezA ► Relaxing Piano Music : https://youtu.be/lumGpBbwEWI ► Beautiful Piano Music : https://youtu.be/9AVqHDXtD6A Lyrics: and when you feel like your nothing but you wanna be something yea well all you really need is hope I just want you to trust me if you wanna be something yea then all you really need is hope when you’re feeling down and ur out like you got nothing but doubt youre alone in a crowd Just trying to figure it out all of this clout and the money got you feelin left out listen up to me now every word out my mouth wake up it’s me you gonna follow your dreams or are you just gonna be another cog in the scene you feel the hope in this beat yea the hope that you need to proceed and be exactly what you wanted to be i feel right and I’m proud hype and I’m loud ima shout all about how I feel in the now ain’t nobody every gonna try to Change me till I’m i'm dead pushing up daisies I’m alone in a crowd I won’t feel down I got hope right now and I know I’ll be found I don’t really care just what all of the haters gotta say I know everything I do is gonna make em fade away and when you feel like your nothing but you wanna be something yea well all you really need is hope I just want you to trust me if you wanna be something yea then all you really need is hope yo take a look in the mirror are you seeing some fear you hear the voice in your ear can you start to see clear are the bad thoughts near? or can you be where your feet are yea when you stand right here and say no! I’m never gonna give up I’m never gonna slow cuz the one that doesn’t give up never loses to a foe im the one that can show to myself I can go all the way to the top can’t stop me no ima soldier always closer till it’s over older but I’m bolder moving forward motor never slower good know ya don’t go make me drop my shoulder you need to believe you can achieve everything that you dream everything that you need is in the air that you breathe is in the mind that you feed is in the time that you bleed every second alive is another blessing to me and when you feel like your nothing but you wanna be something yea well all you really need is hope I just want you to trust me if you wanna be something yea then all you really need is hope it’s what you need when your down need when your out what you need when your sad and when you feel left out you feel an energy drought and in creeps doubt but with a little bit of hope you can figure it out keep your head high even when your down inside through the pain you fight and through the painful nights you keep striving keep trying keep driving rising keep thriving surviving nothings in your way but yourself don’t need nobody’s help you can make it through this hell take it one step at a time one step as you climb if you fail you’ll be fine get back up to the grind and never lose sight of ur mission be driven this live is a prison if you don’t have a vision your in it to win it so get it don’t miss it your chance is now to be something somehow don’t let yourself down CREDIT: Subscribe Button by MrNumber112 https://youtu.be/Fps5vWgKdl0

[drivedrovedriven-blog]

Hello old me

I stumbled upon this blog. The blog that I honestly have completely forgotten about. I read through some posts, and I realised that I thought the internet was a secluded space where no one but meself can ever find this blog. I was writing the posts for myself to read at the time, just as a place where I could pour out heart-felt thoughts.

That was 8 years ago. 

8 years ago I was worrying over the one exam that I thought could make or break my life. Reading through the posts I remember how horrible it felt, but I’ve forgotten how lonely I was. i have also forgotten how strong and resilient I was as a teenager. I grew up practically by myself. I taught myself how to fend and feed me, and to my amazement now - I got through all the immigration and school applications and papers by myself as a teenager. A levels was tough, and it was even tougher because I was alone. I remember not having many friends in school. I couldn’t rely on anyone at home because well, at the time my cousin wasn’t really around. I had too much pride and ego to call home and cry, because I didn’t want to make my parents worried. So I held it in. And I got through it.

To the Novi 8 years ago, I’m here 8 years later sitting in my bedroom typing this as I cry. Partly because I’m sorry that you had to go through that alone as a teenager. Knowing what I know now, I wish I could be there for you to tell you that whatever you’re working on has worked out for a greater good. No, you won’t go to Australia as how you’ve hoped. In fact, till today you won’t have stepped on the Australian soil. But somehow you’ll develop an Aussie accent and have an amazing Aussie boss who teaches you so much good work ethic and way of thinking. You don’t end up failing your A levels. You don’t get straight As because let’s be real, but BBC is good enough for you, and you’re happy with it. And guess what, you’re accepted to a UK university and spend 3 most amazing years of your life (well, to date). You’ll struggle to fit in in the first year, but in the true style that you are, you said screw fitting in, I am going to be me. Things work out pretty well after that. You’re involved in so many projects in uni and meet so many amazing people along the way, some of whom you’re still good friends with now. You’ll go back and forth on cheap bus/train tickets to see awesome gigs. Some of the people who were less well known that you see are now pretty famous. You’ll get accepted to do a year’s internship in a wonderful media company, where you’ll start your career in advertising, and the experience and connections that you have there help you to get your graduate job and an-equally-great-if-not-more-awesome media company. And oh! You get to live with Kae and Dew for a year in London too! You catch the travel bug along the way. You stepped over the fear and what-if line and go on your first solo trip in Europe over Christmas and till now, it’s something that I’m still very proud and fond of. You’ll conquer mountains and valleys, literally. You’ll go on the Himalayas 6 years from now. 

Then you decided to go home because you know it in you that there’s more to life than sitting in an office everyday trying to set campaigns live and troubleshoot why an Instagram post doesn’t go live on time. Gotta be honest with you, the next 2 years are hard. Everything that you know change. You’ve always been the foreign kid, the one who doesn’t have a home, the one who feels that everything is temporary because you know you’ll move somewhere. This time it’s different. Technically, you belong here. Technically you have a house here. Technically, you’re home. But you don’t feel like you’re home. You’ll soon realise that you don’t belong anywhere and you’re ok with that - that you’re a citizen of the world. You’ll also find out that you’re not built to fit into the norm. You never have anyway. You’ve always taken the road less known, but you just don’t see it that way. You never see the things that you do are amazingly amazing just because you think that it’s normal and beat yourself up for making mistakes. But you’re learning now that it’s part of life to fail, and it’s better to fail and have tried than not to have tried at all. 

Right now as I’m telling you this, you’re starting a business with the aim to make people happy. It’s small, and your old habit of procrastinating never dies. It’s still here and it’s suffocating me. But for now, it’s something I really want to do, something that I want to make come true. 

All things work out for the greater good in the end. Guess what, till today I’m still so happy and thankful that A levels didn’t work out because it’s led me to a better life adventure. 

Your hard work will pay off. For now, just keep going strong to finish your exams. I’m proud and thankful for you.

[inpeaks]

I know family can really suck.

I know they are supposed to support you the most at your weakest moments…but for some unexplainable reason this never happens to a lot of people.

I, Martins am one of such person.

There are times, when I would have weird thoughts and do awkward things but NOT ONE PERSON in my family showed ANY sign of concern whatsoever about the fact that I had these thoughts in the first place!

No one asked if and why I was feeling this way. Not even for once. Ever.

This hurts my heart. A lot.

I still get these thoughts, occasionally but I am more than happy for my recovery speed and fast learning ability. Click To Tweet

I have taught myself to depend on the use of certain strategies and techniques to help raise me up (motivate myself) when I am down (sad or discouraged). I am also going to share some of these with you today.

A man has to do what he got to do to survive and get through each stress filled day regardless of his or her present state of mind… whatever the cost! It may even involve you deleting negative family members totally from your life in one way or another!

The members of your family are supposed to be there for you, regardless of the situation, and when they don’t, it can damage you pretty good.

Deleting negative people and negativity from your life is by far one of the best things you can do for your past, present and future self. Seriously!

I have also learned to implement certain “Coping Techniques and Strategies” to make me feel a whole lot better and live each day with more positive vibe around me.

Today, I am going to share part of these helpful things with you so that you can help yourself when YOU feel abused, depressed or rejected.

Who Can You Turn To and What Can You Do To Feel Good?

1: Turn to God

Yes, that is correct. He is the one person that never fails me; I speak to him in prayer and he motivates and pushes me to become the best in whatever I do.

2: Turn to your friends

I turn to my friends (online and offline.) Mainly, I talk to people on Instagram, twitter and Facebook. My social media friends are my newfound “family” and they know just what to say to make me feel better even in my weakest moment.

I occasionally post status updates, tweet and make videos about what’s going on and how I am feeling.

Sometimes when I feel like talking to someone close, I simply message one (or more) of my good friends privately.

My online friends are by far the most awesome people I have ever known in my entire life, even though I only know most of them via the internet (virtually).

3: Ignore your family and remain positive… no matter what

I know this is a really hard thing to do. Fortunately, I have learned a few techniques to help me do this. The one that seems to work best, personally, is the use of positive affirmations.

Positive affirmations are statements that you recite and/or read to yourself every day.

“Affirmations are basically a bunch of positive statements that you repeat daily that changes your current (usually negative) beliefs by affecting into your subconscious (usually making it positive).

Even though these statements might not initially be true, the constant repetition of them eventually makes them a reality!

“As a man thinketh, so is he”

This is a strong yet strange phenomenon, but it is also a truth that has been proven to work in many cases. In a way, it is kind of magical!

How does it work?

When we continue to feed our subconscious mind with good thoughts and imaginary situations that shows our badly desired reality, our mind will begin to subconsciously believe it after some time and begin acting upon it. Our subconscious then makes efforts to make these inner scenarios become same with our already perceived outer reality of life, thus completely changing our personal thought processes.”

4: Rely on yourself and be your own best friend

The truth is: No one truly acts the way we want them to. Let’s us not forget that no one truly knows us like we know ourselves.

That is why you need to learn to be strong and rely strongly on yourself. Learn to be your very own best friend. Make yourself happy (cheer up) when you feel down.

A quick way to doing this is by engaging in activities that you enjoy doing alone, such as writing, reading a book, drawing, watching a movie, taking pictures, playing a video game, etc.

You can take yourself out for a special treat or dinner, pamper yourself in some way (go on a shopping spree, get your hair and nails done, give yourself a “relaxed spa day,” etc.). There are many different things you can do to make yourself feel better.

The key is to treat yourself better than anyone else would treat you!

5: Write out your thoughts

Writing has healing abilities (therapeutic). It helps you to release your positive and negative emotions.

You can buy yourself a journal or diary and write random thoughts in it (either using a pen and paper, your computer, or via a note-taking app on your phone like evernote) or you can do spoken words or write poetry.

You can also write a short story describing your current situation, or simply write how you are feeling towards something or someone. You can write about your day, about what happened to you, what you are doing, about what you did, what you plan to do or you can write about whatever pops into your head.

Just be honest. It will help you speed up the recovery process.

6: Release negative Energy from your life

There are many ways to identify emotions and release negativity from your life.

One of such ways is to remove negative people from your life.

My Best Advice to You

My good and candid advice to you is to do whatever makes you feel better, and if others don’t like it, then tell them “YOU DON’T CARE”. (Sorry, I hardly become rude to people online and offline regardless of what I am going through! But sometimes, to achieve results you NEED to have this attitude!)

Kick them out of your life if you must (this is a very easy thing to do on social media). They don’t know what you are going through. Only YOU do.

Also, use the techniques I explained from the beginning of this post till the end. They really do work.

About the Author

Balogun Owomide has a huge passion for spreading motivation, business and personal finance. I often write on my Makemoney2000 , a finance blog on topics ranging from motivation, startup ideas, to small business financing and loans, business plans, marketing and franchise opportunities. You can reach me on Facebook at Balogun Owomide.

  Source: Success Ideas

The post Harness the Power of Positive thinking when Your Family Does Not Support You appeared first on Success Ideas.

by Balogun Owomide via Success Ideas

[thelibraryshow]

When you realize

Don’t bother to check Facebook. If they were your friends, they’d call or you’d make plans to do something. Friendships are not sustained by a thumbs up. Those aren’t my friends.. I’ve just known them for a long time. They have little or no idea what my daily life is like, even those I’ve known for almost 20 years. I actually pay attention and pretty much know what they’re up to IF anyone still posts anything real, non-commercial, or non-self promotional. It’s mostly reposts. I don’t even look at people’s pages, I don’t need to see another airbrushed, perfectly lit “candid” of your conventional family, the one you finally built, or your new car- the ford you’ve always dreamed of. I don’t really care about your favorite cartoon and I’m not buying your Tupperware, your paintings, and I’m pretty sure now hat we can choose precisely what we see, I’m on exactly nine lists. How do I know this? I always get nine likes. 23 if it’s something you have to like; a picture of your mom or someone who died young, anything military, your ugly new baby or anything nature-centric. Whatever the trend is, they will “like” it. Give it a try. Tumblr… well, I like the anonymity. This is the kind of stuff you’d share with your FB friends in the past or tell them over lunch in the way, way past. My real stuff got me alienated. I know the exact post that blackballed me with my white friends enhanced my standing with my black friends. My Asian friends love perfection, innovation and art. Girls? Depends on the girl. Guys? I don’t post pictures celebrating how many turkeys I bagged or the antlers of all he bucks I killed this year so… In my flesh & blood life, I get it! The people I’ve been close to the last year split when they figure out I’m really not going to show them how awesomely comfy by bed is.

I’m confused about all of this. From a thriving, overwhelming social life that just fell on top of me to a social life populated with users, losers and people who want to “chill”. I finally figured out that chill is code for sex in certain circles. Yeah, who knew? Not me, because I don’t speak American slang.

I’m lonely as fuck but id almost rather the only people I spoke to today were my mum, Aiden and a few cashiers. The cashiers were friendly enough & my family is always there… if I make the first move. Think I prefer my mother & the cashiers most days. No baggage. I’ve been a hardcore wardrobe slut since I bought my first bespoke blazers to comply with the handbook from my first boarding school. In this big Japanese house, my dressing room is between my room and the library. Typical living room size. I lounge there... I feel the hand-woven vintage fabrics, the suedes, the furs. This room feels more mine than my studios. Because however I want to present myself on a given day is neatly folded and hung behind glass doors? No, because I like shopping and this room is designed as a shopping experience. Mirrors surpass my 6'2". Rack piece of furniture Is a one off, designed for, imported by and beautifully crafted by five generations of my family. The library and every other room are similar. Does anyone know what it feels like to live in a museum spanning early 18th century to landmark mid century modern to early American? Carefully curated. It's everything and exclusively what I want to live with. Nothing more. It has to be... because.. .

I'm Working on getting accustomed to life without much human interaction. But then I’ve been working on that for a decade. I’m very social. How do I extract that trait?

People who like me like me a lot. Too much. People who don’t like me never say so, they just do shitty things- like when your cat gets pissed and poops on your bed. That’s never happened & my cats live in pure feline luxury as do my guests. People rave over my house. My cats? I give them what I used to give people I cared for. Time, attention, whatever they need or want. Try that with most humans. Turns out I don't draw convincing boundaries.

I used to have a lot of money. I spent it freely. I entertained, I traveled, I collected, I surround myself with lush gardens, and at times, gilded interiors. literally. I picked up the bill and ordered the cars... I spent extravagant sums on my art practice. Those same friends either bought or stole so much art I don’t even exhibit anymore. I design and redesign my gardens. Extreme gardening is a great replacement for interactions but even that garnered unwanted attention so, I opened my gardens to the public to raise money for a cause that didn't save one life, feed one person or clothe one kid, though the public library was something I did believe in before I realized they have never been short one dime.. 400 people in my garden, a years preparation.. in return I frequently looked out my window to see a couple of little old ladies treating my space like a public botanical garden. It was amusing the first couple of times. Then I moved.. and took the garden with me. Every tree, every stone. It took six months to relocate an extreme landscape, but it was satisfying. My extraordinarily well heeled gardener had quit by then. Work wasn’t his thing.

I’m alone in my new house. It’s mostly glass and big windows. It’s open with secret passageways between rooms and I love it more and more. I've become attached though not necessarily secure. I know I’m on the clock. Counting the days till I relocate this landscape too. My sources for hedging material and anything related to anything I do have pulled away, so, don’t ask how I obtain my materials. I haven’t figured out if I’m awful or if people like me who always have funds but no visible means of earning those funds are seen with suspicion. A few people continuously try to figure it out. They never get it quite right & the few I told didn't believe me so I never told anyone again.

I’ve been dating someone new. He doesn’t call, he’s autistic, he thinks he’s in love with me… or he did last time I saw him. He too wants something quite physical so I can’t see it surviving summer. It’s okay though, I’m getting good at resisting attachments. It’s painful. I suppose hermits gradually grow thicker skin? Or are they sad, miserable people numbing themselves to what they desire? I’ve Met numb people. They’d given up. They were like me; they never fit in and weren’t willing to sacrifice what they loved about themselves or what alienated others.

So, full circle? I resist attachments and can’t recognize a friend when it appears. I really am preparing to be alone. A hermit more or less. The weird cousin or uncle who’s never around. “ I’m not around because hearing how unusual and exotic I am got old the first time you observed it”.

Kinda lonely. Trying to become accustomed to it. Im to young and I still want... Replacing people with rare plants. I miss being center stage. I miss clubbing all night. I miss making pasta for a house full of people. I miss sharing my house, my food…my music especially. I miss making art in my studio. I miss my big family. I miss the illusion of friendship. I miss my one friend who knew everything about my favorite subject: art and design. I miss my crew: the people you never see by day.. because we’re resting up and shopping for something to wear out the next night. I miss long conversations about ancient, obscure books. I miss my friend Greg. The only solace is he died a year ago. Solace because we never split up. We watched every pre-1950 movie we could get our hands on. We spoke the same language, usually obscure references to films no one in any other part of my much compartmentalized life will ever know. I miss Greg. I miss NOT feeling like this. Crying, but nothing comes out. If I could have a good cry, I think I’d feel better. I miss being 100% sober. I take sleeping meds and anxiety meds now. I have a brilliant new psychiatrist I see every month or two. I look forward to it, but looking forward to it means looking forward to the onset of cold weather which presents a thousand other trials Yeah, I think about suicide. I know how and I know I can go anytime I like, but I’ve kind of promised myself I’d stick around as long as my mother does. She’s the only family I talk to besides my dad, when he’s not golfing and my nephew who’s five and adores Me. I know where adoration leads in my family. These people turn on a dime, especially when he becomes an athletic super star and his father finally gives a fuck. I’m a bit like a place holder when it comes to nephews. Tomorrow is my older nephews HS graduation. I’m not invited. When they’re young, my brother can’t be bothered to do so much as feed them. Then they grow up and do something that pleases him. Then it’s my son this, my son that. The most stunning thing about not being invited to any corner of this kids graduation isn’t that I’m not invited on the trip, it’s that before he was born, my aunt warned me not to get too close to him… and then she died. How was she so spot on? You know what else? Very, very little has come about which wasn’t available info to anyone paying attention to the patterns of my family over generations. If my family were a publicly traded stock, I’d be a trillionaire. As it stands I learned late how to use this to my advantage, though I know how to profit from each of them in some way. it doesn’t make me sad seeing what my nephew is, it makes me sad having to face it instead of guess at it and hear my mother deny what I thought, and now know to be truth. The only think I felt about that was I pretty: I thought of cutting him off financially. It’s paperwork I don’t want to do, it would ignite a chain reaction with My own inheritance, and in the end, he will never need anyone else’s money. If I do nothing and get hit by a bus, this snotty little bastard gets everything I have. I talked to my friend piyush tonight, he’s home in India now. He told me I’m always on my Mind. The best part is he’s always on my Mind too. Lots of people are on my Mind and I like knowing I may see them sometime. Piyush told me he was thinking of me and when he says it, I know he means it. I know it because we have ups and downs. He’s been rotten to me, I’ve been rotten to him maybe, we live in the real world. That relationship has sustained so much. It’s not the conditional, situational relationship one is accustomed to. Some good things happened today.

[ttawoabw]

FairyLoot: February ‘Emperors & Fugitives’ Box

Okay, so if you don’t know what a book subscription box then;

Where have you been?

Check out my blog post about them HERE. (I really need to update this…)

FairyLoot is another big Book Subscription service.  The way I see it is it’s the UK’s equivalent of the US’s OwlCrate.  I’ve ordered one of their boxes in the past (you can read the review HERE) but I made that order as a single purchase and haven’t been able to secure a place as a subscriber since.  BUT I FINALLY DID IT, managing to get a place as a subscriber for this company is part of the reason I’ve decided to give Owlcrate a break (among other more significant reasons).  I loved the box I ordered way back then and I’ve loved most of the boxes I’ve seen since then.  I researched what book would be included in this box since I like to do this and I had never heard of it but was intrigued immediately. So without further ado lets get into the unboxing/review.

Okay, so way back when I first ordered this box it wasn’t that strong.  It worked well, but the cardboard was a little weak, it may just be my imagination but the box is sturdier now.  I could be imagining that but yeah.  I still love the logo for this company.

Something cool about FairyLoot’s boxes is the quote they include on the boxes (I think they sometimes change it up) but it’s just a cute little extra touch that shows an extra level of care that’s been put into creating this product.  I also really love the fact that they have a colour scheme of purple (the packing worms are purple and as you’ll see in March’s review it carries through).

“Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” – Neil Gaiman, Coraline

I like this introduction/information card art, the other side is nicer (I’ll include it at the end) – it does fit with the theme and it can be used as an art piece.  But I just don’t really like the picture itself (meaning the art is good but it isn’t a design I would put up). The information side is clear, descriptive and quite frankly, beautiful.

So first thing I found in the purple packing worms was this full size candle created by Happy Piranha.  It’s called Kalusian Sunset and was named by February’s featured books author. I don’t know what the scent it, it smells a bit florally – I love the smell but think I can only have it in small doses. It actually had melted in transit and I was so worried it had melted throughout my box, thankfully it had not.  I also love the designs on the candle, both the wrap around and lid.

Next up, sticking to the scented things, we have this Celestial Gunpowder bath bomb by Bathing Beauties.  I think the description is cute, “If you’re on the run through the galaxy, you’re going to need a Celestial Gunpowder Bath Bomb to keep you squeaky clean.  Okay, maybe not, but it might help make the whole ‘on-the-run’ thing better, right?” It’s cupcake scented, which I am all for, and was made exclusively for this box.

Now this is possibly the coolest item included in this box; a Baby Groot bobble head keychain by Funko.  Even if you don’t like superhero movies, or specifically Guardians of the Galaxy, no one can say they don’t love Baby Groot.  He’s possibly the best Marvel character on screen at the moment. He lives happily on my Percy Jackson keychain.  I love him, he’s so cute!

A more practical item, this Illuminae quote coaster by Read At Midnight was included and I love it.  It’s really sturdy, an actual coaster, and is really pretty.

“She is catalyst. She is chaos. I can see why he loves her.”

Up next we have a sampler for The One Memory of Flora Banks by Emily Barr.  I couldn’t get a photograph of it but this was an accordion sampler ant it was just really cool.  It sounds really interesting – similar to The Memory Book by Lara Avery- and heartbreaking.

Up next we have a bookmark by Till and Dill.  I don’t really care for this bookmark and I’ve put it in my ‘guests take a bookmark pile’ so someone else can appreciate it.

Something I’m really excited about; a discount code for MyBookmark – I love their bookmarks.  They’re 3D and poke out at the ends of your books, like feet!  But they’re really expensive, especially with shipping to Australia, so I can only get them when I have a discount code (it’s how I got my first one).

Next up we’ve got this double sided Throne of Glass print by Taratjah.  One side has Dorian, the other had Manon.  I actually haven’t read the Throne of Glass series (I read the first two/three) but I really liked the picture of Dorian so I put that up on the back of my bedroom door.

The last item before the book is this cute little canvas pouch with a quote from rebel of the Sands on it, it was designed by Alisse Courtier.  It’s the perfect size to hold all my USB’s and SD cards!

  And now for the book…

Empress of a Thousand Skies by Rhoda Belleza. I hadn’t heard anything about this title before FairyLoot announced their theme and I researched what book would fit with it, and I’m glad it ended up on my radar. It sounds like a great sci0fi adventure and I think it’ll be a great read.

CROWN PRINCESS RHIANNON TA’AN WANTS VENGEANCE.

The only surviving heir to an ancient Kalusian dynasty, RHEE has spent her life training to destroy the people who killed her family. Now, on the eve of her coronation, the time has finally come for Rhee to claim her throne – and her revenge.

ALYOSHA is a Wraetan who has risen above his war refugee origins to find fame as the dashing star of a DroneVision show. Despite his popularity, Aly struggles with anti-Wraetan prejudices and the pressure of being perfect in the public eye.

Their paths collide with one brutal act of violence: Rhee is attacked, barely escaping with her life. Aly is blamed for her presumed murder.

The princess and her accused killer are forced to go into hiding – even as a war between planets is waged in Rhee’s name. But soon, Rhee and Aly discover that the assassination attempt is just one part of a sinister plot. Bound together by an evil that only they can stop, the two fugitives must join forces to save the galaxy.

In this exhilarating debut for fans of Marissa Meyer’s Lunar Chronicles and Pierce Brown’s Red Rising trilogy, RHODA BELLEZA crafts a powerful saga of vengeance, warfare, and the true meaning of legacy.

The book and the items included with it came in a cute little dust bag with the FairyLoot symbol on it.  I didn’t know they did this but I think it’s such a cool thing to do.  Kind of like wrapping the book to keep the element of surprise but you get to keep the bag!

Something FairyLoot does is include a mini magazine that features an interview with the author, books to read after you’ve read Empress of a Thousand Skies and the next month’s theme (which for March is Myths and Monsters, it’s their one year anniversary box so it’ll be purple and just full of amazingness!).  I like this as it allows the reader to really connect with the author, FairyLoot also include a letter from their authors so it’s like double the awesomeness!

To my dearest, fiercest Fairylooters: Excuse the mushiness, but it absolutely has to be said: it means the world to me you’re reading this. I wrote Rhee and Aly because I’d always come back to this theme of expectation.  Our skin color, perceived gender and age, a million other things – they feed into expectations everyone else had, and as a young person it had been so easy for me to adopt this as truth.  To let someone else define my identity, to tell me who I was supposed to be.  That external pressure was key, in a way.  I’d felt this immense, impossible heat bearing down – so that the only way to survive was to form on my own terms.  Like that gem of truth was always in my DNA.  Aly and Rhee are different expressions of that idea.  And while they’re in a faraway galaxy, surrounded by advanced tech with an interplanetary war as a backdrop, they’re both trying to survive – in body, mind and spirit – and find their own truth.  I hope this speaks to you.  Ad at the very least, I hope you like the fight scenes. :) 

And of course a signed bookplate!

  Final Thoughts:

I really liked this box, in fact I loved it. It was filled with SO MUCH and it fit all the expectations I’ve developed about what I expect from a YA book subscription service.  Everything was of a high quality, fit perfectly with the theme and was something I have used or can see myself ctually using.  I’m really impressed with this box and I’m glad I was able to secure a subscription so I can see what other amazing products they include in future boxes!

You can order your FairyLoot box HERE for £26 pounds (not including shipping). If you want to check out past boxes you can click HERE and HERE.

  My Links:

Goodreads : Becca Winter

Instagram : becca_theory

Twitter : @Becca_Theory

Facebook : The Troubles And Woes Of A Bookworm

Becca

xxx

The opinions expressed in this review are mine and mine alone.  This post is not sponsored I paid for the box myself.

Book Subscription Box Review: FairyLoot's February 'Emperors & Fugitives' Box FairyLoot: February 'Emperors & Fugitives' Box Okay, so if you don't know what a book subscription box then;

[inpeaks]

Harness the Power of Positive thinking when Your Family Does Not Support You

I know family can really suck.

I know they are supposed to support you the most at your weakest moments…but for some unexplainable reason this never happens to a lot of people.

I, Martins am one of such person.

There are times, when I would have weird thoughts and do awkward things but NOT ONE PERSON in my family showed ANY sign of concern whatsoever about the fact that I had these thoughts in the first place!

No one asked if and why I was feeling this way. Not even for once. Ever.

This hurts my heart. A lot.

I still get these thoughts, occasionally but I am more than happy for my recovery speed and fast learning ability. Click To Tweet

I have taught myself to depend on the use of certain strategies and techniques to help raise me up (motivate myself) when I am down (sad or discouraged). I am also going to share some of these with you today.

A man has to do what he got to do to survive and get through each stress filled day regardless of his or her present state of mind… whatever the cost! It may even involve you deleting negative family members totally from your life in one way or another!

The members of your family are supposed to be there for you, regardless of the situation, and when they don’t, it can damage you pretty good.

Deleting negative people and negativity from your life is by far one of the best things you can do for your past, present and future self. Seriously!

I have also learned to implement certain “Coping Techniques and Strategies” to make me feel a whole lot better and live each day with more positive vibe around me.

Today, I am going to share part of these helpful things with you so that you can help yourself when YOU feel abused, depressed or rejected.

Who Can You Turn To and What Can You Do To Feel Good?

1: Turn to God

Yes, that is correct. He is the one person that never fails me; I speak to him in prayer and he motivates and pushes me to become the best in whatever I do.

2: Turn to your friends

I turn to my friends (online and offline.) Mainly, I talk to people on Instagram, twitter and Facebook. My social media friends are my newfound “family” and they know just what to say to make me feel better even in my weakest moment.

I occasionally post status updates, tweet and make videos about what’s going on and how I am feeling.

Sometimes when I feel like talking to someone close, I simply message one (or more) of my good friends privately.

My online friends are by far the most awesome people I have ever known in my entire life, even though I only know most of them via the internet (virtually).

3: Ignore your family and remain positive… no matter what

I know this is a really hard thing to do. Fortunately, I have learned a few techniques to help me do this. The one that seems to work best, personally, is the use of positive affirmations.

Positive affirmations are statements that you recite and/or read to yourself every day.

“Affirmations are basically a bunch of positive statements that you repeat daily that changes your current (usually negative) beliefs by affecting into your subconscious (usually making it positive).

Even though these statements might not initially be true, the constant repetition of them eventually makes them a reality!

“As a man thinketh, so is he”

This is a strong yet strange phenomenon, but it is also a truth that has been proven to work in many cases. In a way, it is kind of magical!

How does it work?

When we continue to feed our subconscious mind with good thoughts and imaginary situations that shows our badly desired reality, our mind will begin to subconsciously believe it after some time and begin acting upon it. Our subconscious then makes efforts to make these inner scenarios become same with our already perceived outer reality of life, thus completely changing our personal thought processes.”

4: Rely on yourself and be your own best friend

The truth is: No one truly acts the way we want them to. Let’s us not forget that no one truly knows us like we know ourselves.

That is why you need to learn to be strong and rely strongly on yourself. Learn to be your very own best friend. Make yourself happy (cheer up) when you feel down.

A quick way to doing this is by engaging in activities that you enjoy doing alone, such as writing, reading a book, drawing, watching a movie, taking pictures, playing a video game, etc.

You can take yourself out for a special treat or dinner, pamper yourself in some way (go on a shopping spree, get your hair and nails done, give yourself a “relaxed spa day,” etc.). There are many different things you can do to make yourself feel better.

The key is to treat yourself better than anyone else would treat you!

5: Write out your thoughts

Writing has healing abilities (therapeutic). It helps you to release your positive and negative emotions.

You can buy yourself a journal or diary and write random thoughts in it (either using a pen and paper, your computer, or via a note-taking app on your phone like evernote) or you can do spoken words or write poetry.

You can also write a short story describing your current situation, or simply write how you are feeling towards something or someone. You can write about your day, about what happened to you, what you are doing, about what you did, what you plan to do or you can write about whatever pops into your head.

Just be honest. It will help you speed up the recovery process.

6: Release negative Energy from your life

There are many ways to identify emotions and release negativity from your life.

One of such ways is to remove negative people from your life.

My Best Advice to You

My good and candid advice to you is to do whatever makes you feel better, and if others don’t like it, then tell them “YOU DON’T CARE”. (Sorry, I hardly become rude to people online and offline regardless of what I am going through! But sometimes, to achieve results you NEED to have this attitude!)

Kick them out of your life if you must (this is a very easy thing to do on social media). They don’t know what you are going through. Only YOU do.

Also, use the techniques I explained from the beginning of this post till the end. They really do work.

About the Author

Balogun Owomide has a huge passion for spreading motivation, business and personal finance. I often write on my Makemoney2000 , a finance blog on topics ranging from motivation, startup ideas, to small business financing and loans, business plans, marketing and franchise opportunities. You can reach me on Facebook at Balogun Owomide.

 Source: Success Ideas

The post Harness the Power of Positive thinking when Your Family Does Not Support You appeared first on Success Ideas.

source https://www.inpeaks.com/2018/04/30/harness-the-power-of-positive-thinking-when-your-family-does-not-support-you/