#missed am missed florence and he will be my last straw

[seventeengoingunder]

not hozier doing inmusic....

[edamahun]

Song Meme 2: Electric Boogaloo

Actually tagged this time, so I have an excuse :) Thanks @sleepytimegrrl!!!

Tagging @zeph0r to force her to make a playlist for Mel.

It's Mirella's turn because she deserves the spotlight always (and i miss playing her so muuuuch).

Trickster Cleric, Chosen of Vergadain, Lady of Clover's Perch, All 'Round Bad Bitch

Perfect amazing incredible art by @needlesslycryptic

1. An event that defines your character's past Sad girl hours 24/7. This song is the reason her scary ex and her son exist. Doesn't get more life-defining than that.

The only gifts from my lord Were a birth and a divorce But I've read this script and the costume fits So I'll play my parts

2. How your character sees themselves I'm a basic bitch, the song works, leave me alone.

I'm that bad type Make your mama sad type Make your girlfriend mad tight Might seduce your dad type

3. How others view them I mean, it's not wrong.

She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect And all the boys, they were saying they were into it Such a pretty face, on a pretty neck She's driving me crazy, but I'm into it, but I'm into it I'm kind of into it

4A. Their closest relationship (romantic) I like to make a boy sad :) It's fine tho, they got their happily ever after.

Oh, don't leave me here alone Don't tell me that we've grown For having loved a little while Oh, I don't wanna be alone I wanna find a home And I wanna share it with you

4B. Their closest relationship (platonic) We have already ascertained I'm a basic bitch. Cried on the way home after this session, I was truly devastated at the betrayal. They got it sorted again in the afterlife a few years later. (He's in the afterlife, she was just...visiting)

Did you have to hit me Where I'm weak? Baby, I couldn't breathe And rub it in so deep Salt in the wound like you're laughing right at me

5. A Major Fight Scene Roh did actually play this during a fight and I was floored bc he paid attention to my playlist?!

With her straw-blonde hair, her arms hard and lean She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene

6. End Credits Song Mirella's playlist is chronological and this is the last song on it. It was always gonna be her end credits song.

And I am done with my graceless heart So tonight, I'm gonna cut it out, and then restart 'Cause I like to keep my issues drawn It's always darkest before the dawn

[lubdubsworld]

So after re-reading chapter 9 again (forgive my childlike enthusiasm over TSOT, I fucking love this fic), few that came to my mind-

It was never mentioned why he got into a fight, with a cop on top of that. I can't shake the feeling that Heejin was the reason. I mean both Jungkook and Heejin was pretty popular at that point. Maybe somehow Heejin was the topic of a conversation and given how shitty the man are towards an Omega in this AU, the things being discussed must not have been decent (again, I'm assuming) I mean Jungkook seems like the one who minds his own business (flashback to the mall incident during Christmas). The topic of the argument has to be big enough to rile him up enough to hit a cop.

And hyorin breaking up with him right after that is also kinda suspicious. I mean hyorin was straight up rude towards Heejin. No matter how humongous of a dick you are, you just don't let it slip up at your first conversation, not at least someone who's just gotten out of Taehung's therapy (I'm a fan of this man here, making anime eyes, nosebleed and what not and shit, I may as well open a fan club)

Maybe Heejin was somehow overshadowing their relationship and hyorin didn't like that and Jungkook being arrested, assuming over Heejin, was the last straw for her. And her acting like the way she did towards Heejin, the arrangements of the exhibition everything says she had bitter feelings towards Heejin. Because I would never believe Jungkook portrayed an negative image of Heejin that would lead Hyorin to believe what she did was okay. Maybe Jungkook did portray as someone too good that got Hyorin riled up instead.

I'm also glad Jungkook didn't forget what he did and has the decency to call spade a spade. Because in order to correct a mistake, one needs to admit there was one. And to not repeat that, one needs to remember what they did. But I also hope he forgives himself eventually just remember enough not to feel remorse but feel cautious enough not to repeat that.

Why do I feel like the other Mr. Jeon is going to get his ass handed to him in the next chapter 👀. Are we finally gonna get that alpha growl over "Don't look at my Omega" thingy? That would be so freaking cliche that I love it (I'm sorry I'm an obnoxious person. But am I sorry though?). I really like Wonwoo here so far and I hope he doesn't turn out to be a jerk as well and cause too much of a problem between them because as a proud member of Jungkook-Heejin Shipers club, I would diligently fight him ✊

That was a long-ass ask, I would say sorry but I'm really not 😶

And finally, how are you baby? And how are my baby's babies? Life treating you well? Let me remind you, I love yaaa btw if you don't remember.

Ahhhhh you've given this a lot of thought....but honestly its not that complicated.... Jungkook misses Heejin gets drunk and then hits a cop who tries to arrest him...that's all....and even Hyorins attitude towards Heejin isn't really personal..... Jungkook and Hyorin don't really have a relationship to speak of.... Jungkook mentions that he started getting drunk and got arrested about a month or so after moving to Florence...so that was seven months ago..... And she broke up with him right away so they only dated a few weeks max .....

Jungkook also has a very biased view of omegas...he doesn't openly admit it but his attitude of indifference when Heejin is being bullied is quite wrong....so he has to fix that

......

As for the other Mr Jeon, I think you may fall in love with him in the coming chapters 😌😌😌😌😉😉😉😉😉

[bittybattybunny]

I’m going to bed but have a little dadtcher and kaya from BCU:

“Alright, so!” he clapped drawing the pizza owner’s attention, “One small Hawaain to go, Large Meat lovers to go, One manhattan bombastic to go and one for right now.” he moved to get his wallet out.

She stared and smirked, “Naw it’s on the house, Kaya go find your booth and I’ll bring it over when done.”

“What? No this is a large order let me pay.” Arulius leaned on the counter, “I have the money for this.” he scowled.

“I’m sure. But take this as a gift.” Jessica gave a smirk and got in his face.

“Take the card.” he insisted. He didn’t like hand outs. He was Arulius Thatcher and he would not be given something for nothing.

“Nope.” Jessica moved to grab a cup and threw it at kaya who caught it without looking. The teen blinked a moment and tilted her head. Jessica laughed, “go get a drink.”

“Oh. thanks!” she grinned as she headed to put every single flavor of fountain drink into her cup.

“Take the gift as thanks. Because clearly you did something good for her.” Jessica spoke softly, “I haven’t seen that girl smile like that and laugh since Gabe was around.”

Arulius paused and looked over as Kaya was busy filling the cup. He momentarily saw the tendril of king adding more ice to the teen’s annoyance. He chuckled.

“Well still let me pay. Next time spiderking is hungry, pay it forward.”

“Oh I’ve given spiderking plenty of pizza.” Jessica smirked, “Extra cheese, never pineapple.”

“Extra cheese, is that her favorite topping?” he frowned. Despite having lived with the girl for months he still knew so little and she didn’t open up. He paused, “you know?”

“Most people in the area know who she is. Gabe was a big help for those of us who larger businesses would snuff out. By extension, Kaya is someone we all know. Plus! That girl used to watch my kid.” she laughed, “Kaya! You should say hi to Mimi next time you’re in the area!”

“Okay!” she laughed heading over as she sipped on the concoction she’d poured. She held it up to Arulius, “want some?”

“Ugh no. i hate sugar.” he held a hand up, “you drink that entire nightmare.”

“Will do!” she grinned.

Jessica straightened up, “Alright, Ill get cookin, Kaya if you’re hungry enough, grab a slice from the hot box, okay?”

“I can wait.” She smiled, “thank you though!” she yawned as she went back to sipping on her drink, “Mr. Thatcher wanna sit down?”

“Yes, so if you sleep you don’t fall over.” he followed her and took a seat. He leaned on his hand and looked at her as she sipped her drink, “Kaya do better about your identity.”

“Says the guy who is public with his.” she chewed the straw.

“I’m an adult who can handle what is known about me, you are not.” he sighed, “I can deal with press and stories, do you know what I saw today?”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze. He could see her nervously chewing the straw with her teeth, sharpened fangs piercing it.

“I saw a story about a certain web-slinger being called a nuance because they jumped in to a drug bust run by the NYPD.” He leaned on his arm as he looked at her, “And I had my PR team deal with another story about new york’s black and red arachnid having been seen eating a chili dog while swinging through time square during the morning news when she should have been in school.”

“Am I less trouble if I say I was going TO school?” she asked quietly, “King got hungry and I didn’t want to bother Miss Florence.”

“Did you skip breakfast?” he raised a brow but she shook her head. He sighed, “if you want more for breakfast you can ask you know.”

“I just…” she flinched when he flicked her forehead with a sly smirk.

“Kaya, my job is watching you grow up good and strong. If you need more food because you have a parasite that needs it, then I’ll get you more. I’m Arulius Fucking Thatcher and I am the richest man on the planet~!” he cackled as the pizza was set down. He looked at it with wide eyes, followed by confusion when a bowl of liquid cheese was set down.

“Ahhhhhhh!” Kaya’s face lit up, happy for the food. She eagerly took a slice, the cheese nearly slipping off and dipped it into the cheese and started to eat with gusto. Arulius looked at the dip and pursed his lips before grabbing a slice himself.

“Is dipping required?” he asked with a twitch of his lip. This was going to be horrible on his nutrition. Well he guessed one cheat day was fine.

“Mmhm!” Kaya licked some cheese off her hand as she went for a second slice. He stared confused where the kid could have packed it away. As thin as she was, he found it stunning the calories she would pack back. He frowned wondering if it came from that thing attached to her. Symbiote. King. He gulped and folded the slice in half before dipping it and carefully bringing it to his mouth, trying to not get it all over his shirt.

His mouth tingled a bit and he chewed deep in thought, “Ah!” he gasped as he realized, “the dip is nacho cheese!”

“Yeah!” She grinned as she kept eating, having already gone for another slice when he was still eating his first. 

He couldn’t help laughing as she grinned, “this is definitely good, we’ll have to come back now and then.” he stated as he chewed, “This would be better with pineapple though.”

She looked at him with a face of utter disgust, “Pineapple belongs nowhere near a pizza, Mr. Thatcher. Your taste buds are broken.”

He stared at her as she said it with a straight face. He gave a wide grin as he continued eating, “Nope. your taste buds are broken! Pineapple is a delight on pizza!” he wiped a bit of cheese from his lip with his thumb. 

“Here’s your to-go orders.” Jessica smirked and set the boxes down. She looked as she saw most the pizza gone already, “hungry much?”

Kaya turned red and coughed. She hadn’t meant to eat most of the pizza, she just wasn’t paying attention. She blinked when Jessica set a plate down with a slice of cheesecake on it. 

“If you see spiderking, let her know thanks for dealing with that guy last week.” she winked, “enjoy.”

“T-thanks!” She grinned as she picked it up to eat happily. She was grinning ear to ear as she did, enjoying the sweet cheesy treat.

As they finished up and Arulius finally got the woman to relent and let him pay for their food (at least their to go orders) he held the boxes with one arm and let the tired teenager lean against him as they headed back to the car. 

As they got in, he set the boxes in the back and made sure the top was secure as they got in. When he sat in he couldn’t help giving a small sigh with a grin as he saw Kaya barely staying awake. She leaned on the door with closed eyes, her breathing slowing as he started the car to head home. 

As he drove he kept the music off to let her sleep, the only sounds were those outside the car, the car, her breathing, and the low hum of the reactor in his chest.

[justanalto]

it’s q&a time!

tagged by the lovely @besidemethewholedamntime! 

1. What is the color of your hairbrush? light blue or red, depending on whether my hair is wet or dry

2. Name a food you never eat. there isn’t much I don’t eat, but if I had to choose, a very specific melon candy that just tastes nasty.

3. Are you typically too cold or too warm? too cold! I got too used to university heating and now I’m cold all the time

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? willing myself to start my friend’s profile so I can build up my portfolio before deciding to get on Tumblr. or i was scrolling through Tumblr. i’m not sure. 

5. What is your favorite candy bar? i’m pretty partial to a good kit kat bar, especially because they come in so many flavors! 

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event? how do we define professional? because I’ve been to a baseball game, but i don’t know if we’d call college sports games ‘professional’. 

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? one of the lyrics i was harmonizing along to absentmindedly. couldn’t tell you which song it was, though...

8. What is your favorite ice cream? mint chocolate chip! 

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? tea! leftover from this morning and kind of cold unfortunately

10. Do you like your wallet? yes! i bought it at camden market when i was in London last year. it’s made completely of cork and i call it my adult wallet because i spent my college career wandering around with my wallet on a lanyard/attached to my phone case. 

11. What was the last thing you ate? ....a salad

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? lol no

13. The last sporting event you watched? the super bowl, I think? after that they sort of cancelled sports

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? either cheesy or caramel. no in between. 

15. Who is last person you sent a text message to? one of my friends, because we were discussing her diet coke intake

16. Ever go camping? i have! not for a long time, though. 

17. Do you take vitamins? i’m trying to on a regular basis, LOL. when i do i literally have to take a whole mouthful of ‘em. 

18. Do you go to church every Sunday? nope! 

19. Do you have a tan? i haven’t had a proper tan since July 2018 because i spent last summer in the north of england/interning in an office environment. and now of course we’re all stuck at home

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? Chinese food, because i can guarantee it won’t make me sick! 

21. Do you drink soda with a straw? it depends. is it out of a can or a cup? or a mug? where am I? if it’s a can, no, I’ll just chug it straight out. if it’s in a cup, probably. in a mug, i’m probably at home, so no again.

22. What color socks do you usually wear? white ones....

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? i live by the motto that you can speed to exactly 5 miles per hour above the speed limit.

24. What terrifies you? heights, this goddamn pandemic and turning out to be worthless

25. Look to your left, what do you see? my door with my honors college hat hanging on the doorknob

26. What chore do you hate? washing the goddamn bathtub. i HATE cleaning tile grout.

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? the Australian students I met while I was on exchange. either that or finding nemo

28. What’s your favorite soda? ginger ale. is that a soda? if not then Pepsi. I do miss vimto tho

29. Do you go into a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? usually i go in, but I can be convinced to use the drive-thru.

30. Who’s the last person you talked to? my dad. I asked him if he wanted me to make him a salad for lunch.

31. Favorite cut of beef? ribeye, probably. 

32. Last song you listened to? ‘Grow As We Go’ by Ben Platt

33. Last book you read? I’ve been stuck on the same book for weeks -- “Into the Interior’ by Michelle Cliff.

34. Favorite day of the week? it’s quarantine, what are days anymore. jk i’d probably have to say either Mondays or Wednesdays, mainly because I know what day it is due to the fact that there’s new try guys content. 

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards? ...no. but maybe i’ll learn to?

36. How do you like your coffee? past coffee and straight into espresso, and at that point, i take it only with the following dunkin’ syrups: thin mint, heath bar or red velvet. and then with a ton of almond milk. iced. 

37. Favorite pair of shoes? either a pair of gray ankle boots I got two years ago or my black flower-patterned sneakers! 

38. The time you normally go to sleep? 2-2:30ish? I’m trying. 

39. The time you normally get up? 9, but whenever on the weekends. 

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? sunsets for the sole reason that I’ve been awake to see the sunrise only a handful of times, one of them voluntary. 

41. How many blankets on your bed? three, although I have accidentally kicked one to the floor.

42. Describe your kitchen plates. they’re round and white with a floral pattern around the edges. it’s nice and pastel, and I’m pretty sure we’ve had these plates since before I was born. there are some newer ones, but they’re kind of the same. 

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage? anyone who knows me will know that i am an ABSOLUTE lightweight. i drink like a fresher, which is to say i drink mikes, Smirnoff ices, twisted teas, angry orchard and rekorderligs (rip rekorderligs, i haven’t had them since i got back from Europe and they’re fantastic). i also like pink moscato LOL. 

44. Do you play cards? not in the way of poker or blackjack? I play the kids’ games, like 21 and Big 2. 

45. What color is your car? silver

46. Can you change a tire? ooh, no...although I should probably try to learn...

47. Your favorite province? Tuscany province, because Florence is literally the only place I’ve been to that’s located within a province. other than Quebec, but I really liked Florence. 

48. Favorite job you’ve ever had? i’ve had maybe 3 in my life and while being a temp was enriching, i worked at a dunks for a spell and kind of found a family there! so that was nice. 

49. How did you get your biggest scar? went down a hill on a scooter, wiped out and almost got hit by a truck. it’s on my ankle. 

50. What did you do today that made someone else happy? ha....nothing? although I hope my family appreciates that i did the dishes. 

i tag: @swifteforeverandalways @crazyrichfilipinos @peacequack @coffee-esque and anyone else that wants to do it! 

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

Red Right Hand IX

—

Eleanor did not often have visitors over for tea. Even rarer did she have any gentlemen over for tea. However that afternoon, he found himself sat at the small kitchen table with a plate of scones and cup of tea before him.

Robert Singer found himsrlf scrubbing a hand across his face and into his beard as he watched the woman bustling about the room. Keeping herself busy. Keeping herself occupied. Keeping herself from the one thing she needed - to rest.

“Elle, love, you invited me for tea-” “Yes, yes, your tea. Did you need some more milk?” “For tea. Together. So sit before you give me an ache watching you.”

Eleanor started at his gruff tone, before she moved to sit down in the chair opposite him finally. However, her hands continued to flutter about the table top - pouring tea or adding honey, cutting scones or scooping jam and cream dollops - in a flurry.

Robert waited until she reached for the honey for the second time in a minute to grasp her hand in his own. “Eleanor. This will not go away by ignoring it.”

“Oh Robert, you don’t know what it is.” “You know I am not that foolish, Elle’. This is to do with your boys plans, and your girl going missing last week after that inspector detained her..” “Robert..”

The older man shakes his head at the tone as Eleanor turned her hands in his. The woman was so used to getting her way, of her boys following her orders and of their workers jumping at her very call, that she never quite knew how to avoid the demanding tone she would use. He often found it endearing, however staring down the blonde woman, he found it infuriating at that point.

“Where has Shada gone, Eleanor?” “What does it matter?” “Eleanor, if she’s been taken-” “She has not been kidnapped. Michael has sent her away.”

Robert shuffled in his seat again, dropping his hold on her hands as he rubbed his face again. If only it was not impolite to wear his hat indoors.

That what was occurring was concerning enough to require the young girl to be sent somewhere away for her safety worried him.

“In that case, I guess I know what needs to be done.” The older man pushed himself to his feet and rounded the table before his love could stand up. Sinking to his knees beside her, Robert took up her hands again in his, hoping she would take him seriously for once.

“Elle, my love, it’s time we left this behind us. The children are all grown, hell Mikey even has a child of his own. I’m old enough to retire without any problems. We can leave all this muck behind.. Go somewhere we can just live.” “Bobby…” “We can travel the world - take you to Paris and Florence like you always dreamed.” “Bobby…”

Eleanor’s look made his stomach twist as they stared one another down. He had tried this before, almost every year since his wife and her husband had passed away. They fit together, they made sense when they were together, but the woman had never once agreed to run away with him. Rubbing his thumbs over her wrists, Robert steeled himself to ask yet again.

“Go to America, see a real Broadway performance, go to that godforsaken swamp land you always talked about.” “Bobby…” “Say ‘yes’ for once, Elle, for fuck’s sake. Say it and I’ll take you far away from all of this. I’ve been askin’ you for your hand for years now, and we’re runnin’ out of time.” “Bobby!”

Eleanor jerked herself to stand, pulling her hands from his as she moved to fuss near the stove rather than look back at him. His hands felt cold as they closed around the space she left behind. He remained on his knee for longer than he realised, running over the words, over the way her eyes had closed tightly at his pleas, the watering look when she’d finally looked back at him. The way her face showed the same heartbreak he felt every time she pulled back from him.

Slowly forcing himself to his feet, the policeman moved towards the kitchen where the blonde was puttering with the water in the sink. Wrapping an arm around her waist, Robert ran his hands around her waist and tucker his head over her shoulder. “We’ll stay here then. Stay are face whatever your boys have rort. And then when it is safe...”

He felt his heart clench and then release as the woman relaxed back into him staring out the small window to the back alley courtyard where there were three of those little thugs that followed her boys around rolling tobacco and smoking.

“Yes, we will go... When it is safe.”

—

The stables were silent as the grave as the pair approached, only one groom was working at mucking out the stalls in the quiet morning hours.

Jeffrey had not gone to sleep after the pub had closed, he had taken his weekend winnings and spent them in the darkest hour of the night down the laundry lane. He had informed the other to meet him near the entrance to the warehouse-turned-stable as the sun began to rise, and was not surprised to find the girl slunk down in the shadows almost asleep on her feet.

“Come on then,” He growled, hand sliding its way around the small waist of her waist as he guided her into the building. The groom looked up from his work at their entrance, however a hiss from the Shadow had him scrambling to make himself scarce. It was a good thing Jeffrey was known to bring a girl or two for a roll in the hay back in the day, as he was sure no word would escape the building of their being here. “Lets go see this pretty pony for you.”

The blonde glared up at the slight to the horse more than his overly familiar touching as they moved down towards the stall that held the white beast. Since he had learnt of her real identity, he had noticed the wild flare under the friendly smiles; the pause before she’d moved or speak to most in that affected voice; the way she seemed unconcerned with propriety unless someone looked at her sideways.

Joanna slipped into the stall away from him as they reached it, and he found himself leaning up against the closed stall door as he watched her. The traveller moved her way to the horse laying on the straw covered floor with concern, voice quiet as she started speaking to it in that godawful language of her people.

The horse had been performing poorly in training for the last week. Their trainer had advised it may be something with one of its hooves, and then perhaps something to do with the food. The previous afternoon he had claimed it was something in the beast’s hind leg being shorter than the other. “Crock of shit” he had heard the girl mutter as she brought another bottle; and Jeffrey had the idea to take the original trainer to examine the tempestuous horse at that very moment.

The girl was knealt beside the beast, skirts tugged up over her knees and men’s pants clearly visible where she was seated, with her hands running over it’s neck whispering quietly. He could see the breathing slow and relax in the chest as it appeared to recognise the blonde, a calmness to it not seen since it had left the field five months ago. “There, Fhiáin, there. Calm now my beautiful boy…” Joanna’s voice was soft in the quiet stables, only the odd huffs and shuffles from the horses around them interrupting her. “Lets’a see what they’ve gone and done ta you.”

Jeffrey turned around to light his smoke, rolling his eyes at the antics of the other. The groom slowly approached, a fork in hand as he moved to start mucking nearby again.

“‘Nother trainer to check on ‘im?” “Something like that.” “Strange hour for you to be in, boss.” “Strange comment for you to be making.. If you want to keep your job and your eyes, kid.”

The groom scampered off at the threat. Jeffrey never enjoyed speaking with those outside of the family about business, he barely enjoyed speaking to those inside the family or his crew. Letting loose a stream of smoke, the Shadow bit down a groan of annoyance. He would be hearing about being kinder to their workers from Eleanor sometime soon if the kid spoke up.

“Oh, me darlin’ that’s the problem is it,” The croon broke his thoughts as he turned to see her massaging at the beast’s hind leg near the bend. He couldn’t see anything specifically, and entering the stall he still could not determine what the girl felt. “What ‘ave they gone and done to you, mesweet?”

“What’s the problem with your little pony, sweetie?” “Ye trainer caught ‘im with a cane at some point-” “And?” “The bloody imbicile broke skin in the fold of his hind, a’course!” “…And?” “It got fuckin’ infected, you balbh fuck, that’s what.” “So?”

Jeffrey had to fight back the smirk at the increasingly frustrated tone from the other as she ran a hand over the space gently in comparrison, until she threw herself to her feet at his last question. It was the spite and fire he got back that made him grin at her, arms crossed as he released a plume around her head as she approached him.

“So?” “So, ye got a fuckin’ butcher of a trainer workin’ my beautiful boy over, and seems balbh enough not ta see it. Or perhaps, he’s a lyin’ cheat who don’t want ta tell you boys that he’s gone and almost lamed your horse.” “The horse is lame?” “Could become lame. Get me some honey and bandages, a hot fuckin’ fire and that littl’ razor blade of yours and I’ll get him back on ‘is feet in the week.”

He found himself raising a brow, before letting out a loud whistle and leaning over the stall gate. The groom boy came running within seconds, staring frightenedly at the cobblestone floor. Jeffrey gestured for the girl to repeat herself, and smirked as she rattled off her need for honey, bandages and for a fire pit to be brought in in the same crude fashion she had to him. The boy’s eyes widened before he scampered away.

“Impressive, sweetie, you could make a real Shadow with a mouth like that.” “Sorry ta disappoint, but I don’t think I’d like bein’ a Shadow.”

“With a mouth like yours, and that little display few weeks back, you’re not far from one Joanna Harvelle.” Jeffrey smirked down at the blonde as she moved to rest against the stall door beside him. As he spoke, he reached out to grip her chin in two fingers with a wicked grin at her snarled response. “You must get it from your father, or was your mother as wild as you are too?”

“What are you askin’ 'bout me Ma for, Jeffrey?” “Just trying to work you out, sweetie. Between hiding who you are, and that little spell you’ve been weaving on the runt..” “I haven’t done anyth-” “No need to deny, you can break his heart if you want - I don’t particularly care if you do or not - I’m just trying to puzzle you out. Get under your skin, if not your skirts.”

As they’d talked, he’d turned to look her over, eyes running up and down her several times before tracing a hand along her hips at his quip. The Irish girl looked furious and slapped his hand away in response.

“I’ve told you before, darlin’, you couldn’t afford me.” “If the runt can, I can, sweetie.” “I’m not whorin’ for your brother, Jeffrey.” “That’s surprising then.”

Joanna rolled her eyes back at him, giving him a scowl as the young boy came running back up to the gate. Taking the few items from him, she moved back towards the horse while Jeffrey turned to help the boy drag the small pot fire into the stall and brushing the cobblestones free of the hay.

The boy left immediately after, and as the Shadow pulled a crate over to sit on he was surprised to see the blonde staring back at him, hand out stretched where she knealt by the fire. “I’ll be havin’ that straight razor now, darlin'…”

—

The sound of shouting echoed from the private family spaces, which in itself was not particularly unknown within the betting shop, that Friday afternoon. The voices shouting however, were extremely uncommon to be heard and unsettled the book keepers enough to clear out to the street for a smoke or three.

In the front room, Eleanor was in the midst of screeching down her eldest from his high horse. In response, Michael was shouting back just as unrestrictedly - glaring down at his mother in contempt.

Eleanor had intended to speak with him calmly about the whereabouts of his sister. She had intended to simply inquire as to where her daughter was, if she was safe, and how to contact her. She hand intended to ask how the plans with the Catholics had worked out since its formation, to ask how Jackson and Michael’s plans for gun running had taken shape yet.

“You left her alone and to the mercy of that monster!” “She’s a grown ass woman, Ma! Just because you’re bending over for a copper doesn’t mean the same happened to Shada.” “If your father were here, he would be ashamed of you. How far have you fallen, Michael, to treat us all like this? As disposable?” “Father was weak. You are weak. Shada is weak. We need strength in this family that you can no longer provide!”

Instead, they had found themselves at each other’s throats when Michael had sassed her question and she had accused him of throwing his sister to the wolves. It drew more blood from there with claims of destroying the family, of lacking the balls to do what was necessary, of being blinded by greed and envy, of being blinded by love for the wrong man.

“-left me with your drunk of a wife killing your daughter-” “-sent us to die in a fucking field while you galavanted about-” ”-dragged your brothers’ in after you, ruined their lives before they had to. Jackson didn’t even get to marry-” ”-blamed everything on me! I wasn’t the one that drove Da to the gun-”

There were teacups shattered, tables turned and chairs smashed against the floor; it was as if two natural disasters had met and clashed violently as both tore into the other as only family could. Strikes against each other that had been held inside for years can forward, pouring out decades of accusations and failures of the pair before either could think to deescalate the situation. If the words and jabs could draw blood, the room would be red with it.

“-tore this family apart-” “-driving us into the ground-” “-spiteful, narcassistic, egotistical-” “-deluded, pathetic, vindictive-”

The words continued to flow, blow for blow, jab for jab and cut for cut, until finally both Visyak’s were left panting and cowed as they sank into the chairs that remained upright, breathing hard and staring empitly at each other. Productive it had not been. Cathartic, perhaps.

As they slowly caught their breath, they rose as one - her towards the stove top to heat water for some tea, him to right the table and collect a dustpan for the broken crockery. The storm had come, raged, and slowly dissipated leaving behind only the destruction but none of the force as time continued to propel them forward towards what had been promised ever since the container was cracked and the contents were lead not liquor.

—

The headquarters of the Faceless Shadows rarely was visited by the police since the boys had returned from the war. Whether due to the number of greased palms, or the ease of finding one or more Shadow at The Fort in recent years, or the simmering hostility that officers met when entering the streets near the converted townhouses, was unclear. It was not a regular occurrance, however that Saturday morning found the tall blond officer ducking his way through the doorway to the gambling den without any pomp or circumstance.

A look to one of the bookies had Jackson summoned and appearing before his childhood friend within minutes. He led the taller man to one of the closed offices with a calm nod to the workers who appeared to await confirmation for work to continue.

“What have you got for me, William?” “Been hearing news that the Black Eyes and Catholics have been meeting.” “Where did you hear that? Whiskey or tea?” “Overheard the Winchester brothers and that cousin of theirs, Christian Campbell, talking about it. Tea this hour.”

Jackson frowned slightly over the thought, knowing that at least the older of the Winchester brothers in uniform had a connection to the Catholics. The connection of the third officer to the Black Eyes had been a subject of concern for a while within the Shadows when it first came to light. If William had overheard the three men talking, there was reason to believe the truth of the words.

There was no reason to disbelieve the officer who had always remained faithful and honest to his friend, if not others. William Reynolds had been the third of the group of boys of Jackson’s youth that had grown, aged and died together in the years since. They had formed their own small gang, seperate to the work Michael and his friends had been developing to become the basis for the Faceless Shadoes, seperate to the range of blood thirtsy and violent pre-teens that stalked the streets causing havok that Jeffrey and his lackies had made.

Jackson Visyak, William Reynolds, Richard Amon and Harry Spangler had made a strange collection of boys - some already starting their growth spurts at the age of ten, some yet to begin; some smarter and quicker than most adults they encountered, some more charismatic. However different each boy was, they had stuck together along the cold streets of Birmingham, had stuck together as they each found a different calling, as one fell into depression and mania, as one fell into the family business, as one followed the straight and narrow path, and one muddled along unalligned. They had stuck together as they crossed the channel and dug through the mud side by side; and when they managed to all make it back to Birmingham, unharmed but more scarred than they had left it.

Sticking his head out of the office, the dark haired man managed to flag down one of the lackies to bring a pot and milk as soon as possible while he thought over what the other had said.

“Jack, they are planning something. Something drastic from the sound of it.” “What does it sound like then?” “Movement. Lots of movement towards Birmingham from the Catholics. And recruiting from the Black Eyes.” “Movement, huh...”

Collecting the tray brought to him, Jackson proceeded to pour himself a cup and gestured for the other man to do the same as they both sank into chairs on either side of the desk between them. If the Black Eyes were amassing larger numbers, and the Catholics were filtering into the city; perhaps he would need to take a visit to see an old friend earlier than expected.

Jackso waited until they had both poured their drinks before he broke the pensive silence, jaw clenched tightly at the taste of both the poorly brewed tea and the bitter flavour his words brought out.

“I guess it is once more unto the breach, dear friend...”

—

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Saturday 19 May 1832

8 ¾

12 ¾

fine morning and F60° at 10 – Settled Camerons’ book and at account ¾ hour – then breakfast at 10 ¾ in an hour with my aunt as usual – dawdling over 1 thing or other - from 12 ¾ to 4 wrote 3 pp and ½ an end very small and close to Miss H- what a long letter! politics – parading a straw figure of the king with a petticoat over his head and then burning him on Wednesday evening in H-x – then came at 8 pm news they liked better and the church bells rang till 12 at night – Thursday the town crammed and one of the largest bonfires ever seen and ‘the duke of W. himself can do nothing for us now, unless, by drawing off his friends, he saves the house of peers for some while longer’ – what 2 mistakes can Frampton have made already according to Sir A.F.? then all about my dame de compagnie scheme, and observation on Lady G-‘s uncertainty – bethought me I would dine at 5 and walk afterwards to Lightcliffe – ‘I have not yet looked for another C- my dame scheme has [prevailed] – I have been brimful of it, and fancied it nearly perfect till last night

 diiner at 4 40 – off to Lightcliffe in an hour – drank tea there – a Mr. Hildyard staying with young Mr. Hardy at Crownest came in to tea – not gentlemanly but right in politics – home (went and returned by Lower brea) at 9 ¾ - letter from Lady S- de R- and Lady Gordon and from Bado not at all contented to quit my service with one months’ wages – the times newspaper again – the ministry still not finely settled – came to my room at 10 50 having staid talking to my aunt –fine day – F60 ½° now at 11 pm – sat up writing copy of letter to Bado

 ‘you don’t like it – you have no idea the impression that made on me – nobody knows me so well as you do – or what will please, or what will bore me – I will read Mrs. Trollope – But I don’t mean to sit at table with the woman who does my dirty work – she is to do no work but help me to dress, and take care of my things, and make others’ do the rest – I shall only have her for travelling – I have a particular person in view, about 38 or 40, very well informed, sketches

SH:7/ML/E/15/0070

  well, dying to travel, sufficiently musical, but luckily does not sing (I could not bear any sort of singing after yours) really a nice person, and I have known her this dozen years – It is difficult for me to know how to manage – I want someone to speak to who is sensible, and comfortably well mannered – that cannot be a ladys’ maid – I want someone who will go where I like – Is there any thoroughly independent person sufficiently like me to do that? two petticoat-bearers are enough – a maid in addition would be one too many for her own happiness and that of all the rest – what do you think? you can almost persuade me for, or against anything – you don’t need scold about this, for I have put in an almost by way of qualifier – ‘Poor dear darling’! I really like her very much; but her plans are so terribly uncertain, and I feel that she knows me so very sufficiently, I am not without misgivings now and then – Besides as she said, it is not her intention to travel – Had she settled at or near Geneva, Florence, or any agreeable place where I could amuse myself, I have no doubt it would have made me happy to join her; but what dependence is it possible to place upon any such scheme – I shall write to her by and by – I merely wait to know some little more about myself’ – Go on Monday for a few days to my pattern clergyman, but better direct to me here – the delay will not be great ‘and never think one moment about postage’

[knightrepentant]

Encounter 001

Monday 17th of August, 1885

Though the hour was late, I found myself sitting in no small discomfort onboard the evening train out of Manchester, trying in vain to read my notes by the compartment’s meagre light. Across from me, a man is slumped against the window, snoring. Loudly. The steel cap of my shoe colliding with his shin proves sufficient to quell the noise, at the cost of his waking up.

               “No, no I was just resting…!” He squinted out of the rain-speckled window at the hulking landscape beyond, “How much further is it?” I sprung my watch from its pocket and clicked it open,

               “We’re twenty minutes out of Pendle, Niccolo, have you reviewed the case notes at all?” Niccolo waved one hand briefly, telling me all I needed to know,

               “Missing persons is all it really says, Allison, I’ll hear the rest when we arrive.” Niccolo grinned, lay down along the entire seat and shut his eyes once more.

               Pendle railway station barely deserved the name. Little more than an uncovered stone platform and the smallest ticket office possible. A light drizzle was hissing upon the ground and Niccolo and I hunched our shoulders as we made our way towards the main road. A pub offered warmth and shelter, and I shook rain from my coat at the threshold and saw gladly a roaring hearth. But however much it beckoned, there more pressing matters, and I approached the barkeep,

               “Good evening, sir, I wonder if you could direct me to the…” I glanced at my notebook, “Ashworth farmstead?” The barkeep, a thin rake of a man in a stained apron, put down his cleaning cloth,

               “Old Tim Ashworth, is it? His farm’s easy enough to find, even if the weather’s awful. You police types, then? Tim’s a straight lad, I’ll tell you now, not a wicked bone in his body.” I held up a hand,

               “Fear not, sir, I haven’t come to arrest him, only to find him. My name is Allison Hackett, a detective working with the Greater Manchester constabulary. The one practically standing in your fireplace is Niccolo Ferrera, a consultant from Florence.” The man’s blank look offered nothing in return, so I pressed on, “I believe you meant to direct me to the Ashworth farm?” The lights came back on in his eyes,

               “Oh, of course, it’s a ways along the east road, about two or three miles, you can’t miss the sign.” I nod in thanks,

               “I intend to stay here upon my return, I trust you have rooms available?” That got his attention,

               “Of course, madam, the house’s finest!” Our business concluded, I bade a most reluctant Niccolo abandon the glow of the hearth and we two bowed our heads again beneath the rain.

               The road out of town was well-used and treacherous terrain, the drystone wall saved my skirts many times over, but our endurance was rewarded as the oppressive rain began to ease, and the clouds to wither away. So far from Manchester and its hundreds of gas-lamps, the sky overhead was awash with stars, a million points of light spilling across the heavens, and they enraptured me so that I almost missed the signpost for the Ashworth farm. In the far distance, I could discern a single light. I did my best to make myself less like a sodden cat come crawling out of the rain on the walk towards the farmhouse, wishing dearly that I had brought my umbrella. Niccolo shook himself like a hound as his only attempt at presentability as we gained the doorstep, then rapped smartly upon the bare planks of the door.

               So long were we stood there that I was startled from a reverie when the door suddenly snapped open. In the three inch gap between door and doorframe I discerned a pale, fearful face.

               “Yes?” I tried to smile warmly,

               “Would you be Mrs. Ashworth, wife of Timothy Ashworth? My name is Allison Hackett, the Manchester constabulary sent me to investigate his disappearance.” The face did not change as the door was opened, and we were invited inside. Mrs. Ashworth collapsed stiffly into a chair, arms wrapped tightly about herself. After a minute of silent waiting, I took the chair adjacent,

               “I can’t imagine how distressing this must be, Mrs. Ashworth, but I have questions I must ask you. Exactly when did you notice your husband was missing?”

               “It were last Thursday, yes, Thursday night.” Her eyes kept darting from window to window, and her trembling only grew worse,

               “He went missing during the night? Could you guess as to what time, that night?”

               “Close to midnight. We got woke up by our old mare braying in the barn. Tim thought it could be thieves or sheep rustlers, he took his rifle so to scare ‘em off. I waited at our bedroom door…” Grief twisted her face, and through tears she stammered, “…but he never came back! I heard him yell, heard the rifle go off, then…nothing. I went to the window, but it were all as still as you see now. My babes woke up crying because of the gun, so I sat with them until morning.” At that moment, I saw behind her a young man come into the room, bearing a sullen glower,

               “You here to find my dad?” I rose, offering my hand,

               “I am indeed, Allison Hackett, private detective. This is Niccolo Ferrera, a colleague of mine from Italy. Might I ask your name?”

               “John Ashworth, ma’am.”

               “A pleasure, John. I was just asking your mother to try and recall anything she could about your father’s disappearance. Is there anything you can add? Did you see or hear anything that night?” I held my pencil poised over my notebook, but John seemed to huddle in on himself, glancing warily towards his mother, and shook his head slowly. “I understand, from what your mother tells me, it all happened very fast. Now I must ask a favour of you,” I tucked my notebook away, “I should like to examine the scene, this barn where you keep your mare. It may help me learn where your father might be.” John began to nod, but his mother’s hand snapped around his wrist like a vice,

               “Don’t you go out there, Johnny!” I stepped forward,

               “Please, Mrs. Ashworth. I won’t let him come to harm, I promise. Niccolo will be in here watching the barn, we won’t be a moment.”

               The sky was completely clear now, as we made our way to the barn, not fifty feet from the house. John lit a lamp, a pool of orange amidst the hay. I cast my eyes around, scouring every surface, peering into every shadow,

               “Is it just the mare you keep in here, then?” John nodded sharply,

               “Aye, and she was making more noise than I thought a horse could.” I moved past the stalls to the centre of the barn, and stopped abruptly,

               “Do you smell…eggs?” The lad sniffed the air and grimaced,

               “Rotten ones.” I bade him cast the lamp around, trying to see if any patterns lingered in the straw, but the mare had trampled it thoroughly. My spirits fell,

               “That seems to be the only oddity I can find.” John let the lamp fall, his face despondent, “your mother was right about one thing, however, there is gunpowder residue here. Your father did fire his rifle, but at what? He obviously missed for I see no blood anywhere, there are no signs of a struggle so I surmise the shot scared away any intruders.” I turned to John, “It’s like he won the contest before simply walking off into the night. I’ll have to return in the morning and do a wider search of the farm…”

               “He didn’t walk off!” John was scowling hard at the floor, his free hand tightly clenched in a fist. I frowned for a moment, then realisation dawned,

               “You saw something. What did you see?! Why did you not say so before?”

               “I didn’t want to scare my mother! And…I was scared myself! They took him!” Ice filled my stomach and I seized his wrist,

               “What?! He was taken? Taken by whom?! Tell me anything you remember!” But John began shaking his head, tears lighting the corners of his eyes,

               “I couldn’t see…I didn’t want to see! They…they were so quick. They headed for the barn, the mare was screaming so loud!” The young man collapsed to the hay, clawing at his hair and face, “Dad! Dad’s in there!” Before my eyes, John’s face contorted into a mask of terror, and he seemed not to see me as he spoke in a trembling whisper, “One of them is outside the window. No, no, no, I don’t want to see!” I pulled his hands away and stared into those fear-wide eyes,

               “John! Johnny, you’re safe! It’s just me, you’re safe!” Those eyes seemed to see me again, and the tears began flowing freely as the boy clasped me tight.

               “They took him,” he gasped, “They took him.”

               “Where, John? I won’t ask any more of you if you tell me, I promise.” I felt his arm move and followed his pointing finger upwards out of the barn doors. The great black dome of the sky hung overhead, and suddenly that glittering expanse felt so very threatening.

[thisisthemadhouse]

6: The Quake

Dear James

There has been quite a gap between my last letter this one. I apologize for my negligence and hope the following can begin to make it up to you.  

A few weeks ago we discovered large umbrellas of fungus growing in the foyer of the House. I swear I have never heard Meriweather curse so loudly in my life. Since their discovery she has been fumigating every room and cleaning in excess. She has also informed us that we are to tell none of the neighbors of the infestation. “What would they think of us then?!” She inquired as she aggressively scoured the wainscotting in the drawing room. I personally don't know what the neighbors would think but for the sake of not invoking Meriweather’s temper I won't try asking them. After she had finished hacking all the evidence from the foyer she sent me down to check the basement. I expect she would have had us draw straws, but since I am virtually indestructible, she decided it was only logical to send me down to Mia’s lair.

I've been to the basement on a couple of occasions, never willingly. I'd never walked down the steps either. I'd always just woken up strapped to a table or chained to a wall. The steps creaked tremendously as I descended. I tried to press my hand against the wall to lessen the sound, but had to instantly draw it away again. The wall seemed to be covered in something with a similar texture to mucus. As my bare feet touched down to the cold stone of the floor I looked around, expecting to catch Mia in the act of something wretched. There was no sign of her. Slightly apprehensive I delved further into the gloom of the space. A dark shape skittered past my foot. I jerked back tumbling to land on my elbows. The dark shape scurried onto my chest. I blinked. The rat blinked back. I clambered to my feet swatting the rat away. It seemed to glare at me with its luminous red eyes before melting back into the shadows. Leave it to Mia to have creepy pets.

I walked into the basement proper, eyes squinting in the dim light that flickered from old fluorescent bulbs that hung bare from the ceiling. I scanned the wall, searching for signs of growth. Nothing. I came upon her table and shivered at the recollections that suddenly swum in my mind’s eye. I ducked beneath the table, arms and legs trembling. Still nothing. A muffled sound found my ears and I stood up. Across the room from me hung a heavy metal door that gaped the smallest bit ajar. The sound came again. I tried to steady my breathing as I made my way towards the door. The weathered iron shrieked as I pulled it open further. Inside I could see large cylindrical tanks and piping that criss crossed it’s way up into the ceiling. In the center of the room sat a figure, hunched over and bound to a metal folding chair with lengths of bloodstained cord. At the sound of my entrance the figure’s head shot up. Staring at me wildly, he began to strain against his bonds. My heart sank for I knew who he was, and I knew I could not help him. I stepped closer to him trying to get a good look at his face, wondering what form he had taken that day. As expected he was in his favourite configuration. Long legs, thick body, harshly side parted hair and a largely overhanging brow. Fighting the fear that flooded me at the sight of his face I puzzled slightly knowing he was missing something. A new sound entered my consciousness, the sharp and ever growing clicking of stilettos on stone. The boy looked panicked and began to struggle harder muffled exclamations growing more desperate. Mia strode past me clutching a lamp that flickered a haunting blue. She walked behind the shuddering boy and draped her arms around his shoulders. He tried to jerk away from her but I new from experience that he didn’t have a chance of succeeding. She looked up at me, letting the flame bob dangerously close to the boy’s neck. She seemed very put out to be interrupted. I tried to speak but all that came from my throat was a strangled squawk of fear. A hair raising smile cut across her face and she left the boy to stride over to me. I felt her arms around my torso and I tensed myself for the inevitable pain that would soon be inflicted on me. Mia did not disappoint.  She brought the flame to my exposed neck and laughed as my I began to choke on my own melting flesh. After the entire front of my throat was torched she dropped me to the floor gasping for air, urging my broiled vocal cords to heal. She set the lamp down beside the boy’s chair and and once again stood behind him playing with his hair. I tried to speak but just coughed sending a spray of blood across the floor. I climbed shakily to my feet and tried again. “m-Meriweather sent me” I swallowed wincing as the damaged muscles of my throat moved. “She wants to know if there is any of the fungus down here”. Mia rolled her eyes and pulled something from her lab coat. I squinted through the gloom to see what it was. The blue glow of her lamp bounced off one of the lenses. That’s what the boy had been missing: his glasses. Mia examined them for half a second before dropping them carelessly to the ground and bringing her foot down on them with a shattering crunch. She picked up the lamp and looked at me. There was a moment of horrific silence. Then she tossed her light up into the air. Instead of falling to the ground like the glasses had it seemed to fall up. The lamp drifted impossibly high, illuminating to me that the ceiling of the small room was much higher than I could have thought possible. I gasped for as the light drifted upwards it revealed huge shelves of fungus growing from every available surface.

The light drifted back down into Mia’s hand, forcing me to make eye contact with her again. The blue cast her eyes into a weird shade of mauve which, for some reason, I found even worse than their usual blood red. I swallowed hard. “Uhhh… so…. I guess that answers that question….” I could see she was getting annoyed with me. “I’m assuming you’d like to take care of this yourself?” She nodded. “Great” I said cautiously backing away from her “that's totally fine by me, and I'm sure you’re more than capAAAAAAHHHH!” I shrieked with fright as I felt a hand grab my wrist. I looked down to see the boy had slipped free. More remarkable however was how he had shifted form. “You?!” I said, shocked. His grip tightened on my wrist as he reached up to pull the gag from his mouth. His new and more slender pair of spectacles glinted at me. Mia roared and lunged at him tearing my hand from his grip. The House began to shake. Large pieces of fungus began to tumble around us, splintering on impact. A couple pipes must have burst too because a moderately heavy rain began to pelt down on me. I saw Mia swing her leg over the boy and wrap her fingers around his neck before turning to me. “GO!” said the look in her eyes. I went, my hands over my head, an image of the panic in Mia’s eyes burned into my memory.

I made it up the stairs and slammed the door before I noticed I was hurt. I must have stepped on the remnants of the boy’s old glasses while fleeing the boiler room. No matter though, It would heal in minutes. The House was still swaying and I could hear panicked voices from the sitting room. I dashed from the cellar door towards the sounds. “I don’t CARE if she’s past her reasonable threshold! Give her more!”. “Darling you know as well as I do that another couple grams will cause her to fix and we both know she never settles in Florence”. “Is she going to be ok?”. “Yes child she will be… fine”. I burst into the Drawing room. I saw Meriweather, Gryffin and Little One gathered around the green velvet chaise-lounge. Gryffin had a box crammed with vials and other medical equipment open at his feet which he was desperately rooting through. Meriweather stood at the head of the couch consulting the readouts of a cranial scanner. Little One sat in one of the purple stiff backed armchairs in the corner, eyes wide with fright, clutching her small yellow duckling as it quacked frantically. On the velvet lay the twins. Or more accurately almost on the velvet. They hovered above the fabric maybe 2 or 3 inches and were spasming violently. They flickered back and forth at an impossible speed, and their chest pumped up and down as if something were trying to escape from the cavity. Both of them were locked in a silent scream. “It’s no good Meri! I don’t know what will counteract this. She’s going to go into complete reversion! Body tremors, frozen voicebox, memory loss, everything!” Gryffin sat back on his heels with a look of shock on his face “I don’t think I can do anything”. As he spoke the outline of him seemed to get fuzzy and particles of his essences began to blow away. “Mr. Stylez please hold yourself together!” Meriweather pushed the scanner bank aside and dropped to her knees scrabbling through the medicine box. She pulled a large syringe from its depths and began to prep it. Gryffin’s edges redefined themselves and he blinked a couple of times before snapping back into reality. “Meriweather are you crazy!!! You can’t use that on her! It’ll kill her!”

Meriweather either didn’t hear him or else didn’t care. She plunged the needle into one of the dark veins on the twins neck. Their chest rose again before slumping fully onto the chaise-lounge, limp body sinking into the cushions. Ignoring Gryffin’s tirade Meriweather calmly checked their pulse. She sniffed with satisfaction. “Alive” she glanced at Gryffin “no thanks to you”. Gryffin had gotten to his feet and was staring in shock at the body on the couch. “What have you done?” Meriweather pulled off her gloves, not looking at him “what needed to be done Mr. Stylez” and then as if to herself “what needed to be done”. He stood frozen staring. I walked over to see for myself.

She lay there and would have seemed fine but for the large crack running down her face. She wasn’t either of the twins exactly. Half of her hair was a silky well kept blonde that harshly cut to the long waterfall of sickly white on the other half. Her skin was blotchy, patched with freckled pink and deathly pale. Even her clothes appeared to be sewed from strips of the twins clothing, roughly stitching bright florals with gut wrenching hospital blue and various greys. “What happened?” I asked grimmy fascinated by the girl in front of me. The others seemed to become aware of me for the first time. “She’s…. I had to..” tried Meriweather but she seemed uncharacteristically dazed. “She’s been numbed” spat Gryffin obviously disgusted by the word.

It took a couple hours for her to wake up and when she did I found out she has mitch-matched too. The right is Florence’s bright blue and the left is the milky pale blue of Charity. I don’t really know what to call her since she really isn’t either of them. Gryffin says not to bother naming her. “She’s not real. She doesn’t need a name. When I find a cure she’ll be back to normal”. But I feel it’s weird not to call her something. I tried to combine the twin’s names but Chorence sounds weird and Farity sounds doubly so. I think for the time being I’ll call her Winnie. Little One suggested it and I think it sounds a little stupid but I couldn’t think of anything better.

Gryffin and Meriweather aren’t speaking to each other. Not that they have much opportunity to. Gryffin has been confining himself to Mia’s lab in order to brew an antidote to fix Winnie. How he thinks being down there is a good idea is beyond me, however Mia seems to be keeping so busy with the Boy that I doubt she even knows he’s there. And as for Meriweather she has been practically living in the Library. I found her sleeping on a pile of encyclopedias this morning. She thinks all of Gryffin’s experiments are a waste of time and believes only an erudite approach will be successful.

Whoever figures it out I hope they do it soon. Don’t get me wrong James there’s nothing especially bothersome about Winnie. But that’s kind of the problem. There is nothing really about her at all. She’s like a blank slate. I showed her up to the control room today and she just sat there. I never thought I would genuinely miss Charity’s cumulonimbus or Florence’s stupid obsession with the love songs. If this proceeds for much longer I will begin to worry for the fate of the House.

I will keep you updated on this as it progresses.

Worryingly yours,

M                                                   

[littlethoughtsandfeelings]

The Bachelor Australia 2017 Recap - Episode 1

The Bachelor Australia 2017 Recap S2 E1        

 I debated whether or not to review this season of The Bachelor. I recapped Georgia Love’s season of The Bachelorette, and I’m pretty sure my boyfriend was the only one who read those reviews, but here we go again.

Full disclosure: Those who read my Bachelorette Season 2 reviews will know that I wasn’t the hugest fan of Matty J. Nothing against him, he just wasn’t my number one pick for Georgia. However, I am super excited to see him (hopefully) find someone as gregarious and upbeat as him. However, if those pesky producers pull another bait and switch on us, I think that’ll be the last straw. (Let’s be honest, just until the ads roll around for the following year). On with the show!

Oh, Osher. How I have missed your liquid caramel voice! And that music! Oh, god I love this show. 

I don’t think I can ever watch that clip of Georgia telling Matty J he wasn’t the one and he puts his hands on his knees without feeling a little pang in my heart. And a pang in my soul for being so STUPID TO HAVE NOT REALISED THE BAIT AND SWITCH.

Cue shirtless-on-the-beach-looking-into-the-distance clip! And exciting, heart warming, vomit inducing montage of the season. What? That wasn’t what it was supposed to do?

Now, breaking news, Matty J was on The Project before tonight’s episode informing everyone he has officially dropped the J. Just…Matty. Previous readers might think I was elated with this news, given how much I hated the nickname when he was first introduced. But if I’m honest, Matty just sounds kind of… empty (insert joke here about empty heart and looking for love).

I swear the editors have a little checklist beside their computer of how to open every season of The Bachelor:

- Running on the beach shirtless? Check!

- De-saturated montage of heartbreak? Check!

- But now I’m totally over it and it’s totally fine speech? Check!

OH THAT’S RIGHT. HIS TERRIFYING SISTER. AND THE NEPHEW. THE WEIRD RELATIONSHIP WITH THE NEPHEW.

He’s “cooking” with his mum in the kitchen. By “cooking”, I mean refusing to cut the avocado due to some genetic rash-inducing phobia.

Then, Matty’s mum expresses her generic trepidation that he might get his heart broken again, before saying about last season’s let-down: “It was really hard for me.” Yeah well guess what, Mum? It was PROBABLY REALLY FUCKING HARD FOR MATTY J TOO.

- Slow-mo dressing at dusk? Check!

- City pan? Check!

- Close-up limo shots? Check! 

I swear, if you showed me the opening to all of the seasons, you could correlate them scene. by. scene. Which is fine. But… does anyone maybe want to do something different? Throw a different shot in? What if there was just an elephant shooting water from its trunk just shoved in the middle to see if people catch it? That’s what I would do. But hey, I guess if you’ve got a format that’s working, then why change it?

Matty and Osher meet up in front of the mansion. There’s some snooze-inducing filler-talk about love at first conversation. Yawn. A slow burn. Yawn. Even Osher’s trying to jazz it up with his leading questions but tbh, I’m only watching for the arrivals section.

Like I did last year, I’ll break down the arrivals for each lovely lady:

Alix is the first girl. Her description says, “body painter” so we all know not to take her seriously. She’s wearing an orange dress with lots of cut-outs. I think there might be more cut-outs than actual fabric. Sorry, she says the dress is red. So we know she’s a tiiiiiiiny bit colour-blind, but that’s cool. Alix has conveniently placed body paint on her arm to talk about her work and Matty pretends to be interested. As she walks away, Matty says, “She is… pretty.” And I have laughed my first belly laugh of the season. Nup. Not the one. 

Tara is next. She’s a nanny. She loves kids. (And if you remember from the montage shoved down our throat 5 minutes earlier, MATTY J ALSO LOVES KIDS. SPECIFICALLY HIS NEPHEW). Tara says, “Both of my sisters are married with children, so I’m the last one.” Ah yes, the perils of being a spinster. (Side note: I think in her talking head we hear someone question “Five hours”. Correct me if I’m wrong, but is this the first time we’ve heard someone speak behind the camera? WHO ARE YOU, MYSTERY VOICE? TELL ME WHAT GOES ON BEHIND THE SCENES! I think it’s pretty telling that I’m more interested in this than Tara). The convo’s a bit awkward if we’re honest. Matty even throws in, “Yeah. It’s a nice house.” Oh, she has tats. And she conveniently forgets which ear she has a smiley face tattooed behind. Never thought I’d be writing that sentence in my life. She’s immediately injected into Cool Girl status, by “accidentally” saying “mate” and “ay” at the end of sentences. Look, she’s one of the boizzzzzzz. She’s got a great dress, but she’s not the one.

Laura is a jewellery designer. She’s wearing a pants suit and seems much too sensible to be on this show. She makes a joke about bringing a cob loaf, which totally would have shot her straight to top three at least. The way to a man’s heart, and all that. There’s a bit of light flirtation about Matty wearing one of her rings. He says it’s appealing that she is hardworking *cough lives in Sydney cough* and is passionate about what she does *cough lives in Sydney cough*. She seems nice enough, but still not the one.

Now, Cobie! I’ve seen Cobie on the ads, and from that ten second clip I’m confident I know everything about her. But seriously, she seems quirky and funny and just like Matty J. (Remember the quiz game he made for Georgia? Cobie would totally do that kind of thing for him). She comes in with a bunch of balloons and sucks the helium and introduces herself. I thought it was sweet and cute, but they’re playing clown music underneath, which would suggest she’s not the one. Cobie reveals that she works in mining as a coal plant operator. She should have brought a piece of coal into the mansion for him! (For those reading overseas, this is a cutting-edge joke about an event that occurred recently with our politicians. It’s very funny and witty. Trust me).

And now we begin the montage, starting with Simone, who is very… white. From the hair to the teeth to the dress. Then we have Elise, Monica, Laura-Ann, Elizabeth, Steph, Sharlene, Stacey, and Sian. And as we all know, montage girls don’t get picked. 

Our lovely montage (yawn) ends on Jennifer, who wants to be “dipped”. Jennifer, a question: Is a manufactured “dip” a “real dip”? I mean, it’s not French Onion, is it? (Ha! See, you’ve all missed me).

Cue clown music again, this time for Natalie, who is a midwife (REMEMBER MATTY J LOVES CHILDREN. ESPECIALLY HIS NEPHEW). She’s just wearing glitter body paint. Kidding, but hey, it could be. It’s just a very skin-coloured dress. Natalie admits to stalking Matty on Instagram, and says the word “moist”. Lololol let’s all get on board the internet bandwagon where we all think “moist” is a gross word and oh look how relevant she’s being, and dorky, and sweet. Sigh. And then, just when I think all hope is lost for Natalie, she reveals she has dated “a woman”. She’s BI! IS THIS THE FIRST NON-HETERO BACHELOR CONTESTANT?! THIS IS INCREDIBLE. But then she says she hopes Matty can, “Turn me straight again.” Um, I’m not 100% sure it works like that, Nat. And I’m also not sure if this comment is going to help the disgusting political opinion that you can just change your sexuality on a whim. I wish I thought better of the producers than to include this, but I don’t. And then, in case things couldn’t get any worse, SHE SNIFFS HER FINGERS AFTER MEETING MATTY J. SHE SAYS THEY SMELL LIKE HIM. WHAT RATING IS THIS SHOW FOR CHRIST’S SAKE?! (Also, question: Are we sure this isn’t just Georgia Love in a wig?).

Now for the contrived moment we saw in twenty thousand ads, a police car comes in. From the ads I assumed she was just being driven in and I completely rolled me eyes, but this… this I can get on board with! SHE’S DRIVING HERSELF! IN A COP CAR! There’s a brief, unnecessary ad break before Constable Packston introduces herself. She entered with a handshake and in a cop car and THIS. WOMAN. MEANS. BUSINESS. Her first name is Michelle, and Matty accidentally (?) admits he’s been in the back of a police car, because… he peed in a bush when he was 18. Could this show be any more PG13 if it tried? Michelle seems much too sensible for this show, but they have good banter. Until Matty asks her to “mock arrest” him, in some sort of sex foreplay ritual. Matty says, “You’re quite strong for a…” (Don’t say woman, don’t say woman, don’t say woman…) “…Someone with a petite frame.” Nice work Matty! She seems great. I would say that the gag might prevent you from winning, but Lee came in with a frickin donkey, so all bets are off.

Belinda arrives already in a wedding dress, just in case Matty decides to call it all off on the first night. Her description says “Love Coach”, and I’m out. Belinda puts her hand over Matty’s heart while he does the same to her in some kind of trust exercise which also seems like a foreplay ritual. She’s also got an egg timer. Urgh, this is so awkward. Let’s just move right on.

To…Florence. She’s from Holland. She is also wearing orange… red. WHY ARE THESE COLOURS SO SIMILAR?! She’s brought something from Holland. It’s… clogs! For... traditional reasons! Right. Yes, Matty J will keep those and treasure them forever. 

Next there are feet. Bare feet but she’s walking on her tippy toes, which doesn’t make sense. Oh, wait. She’s ribbon dancing. Jesus. Well, props to amping up the parade aspects of the introductions. And then, this woman, whose name is apparently Akoulina, actually says, “I wrap myself up and I present myself as a present to you. Will you accept me?” This is my face right now: :| You can guess what my answer would have been to her question. 

But all of this nonsense leads us seamlessly into… Lisa. Who has romantic music, and is in a JUMPSUIT. And she looks FIERCE! Even Matty J comments on it. She’s very tall, and apparently that’s her defining feature. (Question: Why do we still use feet for our heights in Australia? We use the metric system for everything else). Matty is smitten. Lisa also reveals that she played competitive tennis for twelve years, which is cool. No joke there, that just really is cool. She seems nice, and he seems to like her. Matty’s talking head says, “She took my breath away.” Calm down, Matty! I thought you were open to a slow burn?! 

Oh, no. Poor Leah has made a mistake and worn her lingerie tonight. Nice move, producers. I’m guessing the villain due to the over-sexualisation and the black dress? She’s now messing up his hair. (Side note: Is Mrs Osher still the hair stylist on this show? I would be so pissed if I was her. How dare Leah ruin that perfect quiff!). She also makes him spin twice, which should be an effort in reversing the sexism on this show, but actually comes across kind of creepy and awkward. She literally tells him she wants him to f her right there. Well, she may as well have. 

Alright, first shot in the house! Leah makes an entrance. Oh boy does she make an entrance. Cobie stops her and introduces herself. Nice, Cobie.

Apparently Leah is ignoring everyone. (Did she?) Oh yep, apparently she did. All I see is her greeting everyone. Right. Villain. Tara does a little bit of slut-shaming here but I’m guessing we’re all ok with it because Leah is our villain lololol. Someone (honestly, I have no idea who anyone is. It’s the first night) says Leah is wearing her dress, but in black. OH YEAH. THEY’RE IN THE SAME DRESS. Do you think this was a last-minute re-write when costuming figured it out? *Loud whisper* PSSST, JUST MAKE IT INTO A PLOT POINT. THEY’LL NEVER KNOW THE DIFFERENCE. 

Then we have some contrived dramahhhh with the girls. Something happens but it’s boring and then OSHER WALKS IN! OSHERRRRRR! Save me from this boredom! He introduces them to the rose system, just in case any of them are aliens and have no idea how this show works. Matty gives them all a pep talk, because he totes knows how they’re feeling. (REMEMBER, HE’S BEEN ON THE SHOW BEFORE). 

Osher interrupts Matty because he totally forgot to mention this really important thing before. Silly Osher! This year, they have the Secret Garden, which in this context (as far as I know) isn’t a euphemism or a piece of classic literature, but a literal secret garden where they can have uninterrupted one-on-one time. What? No white rose? What a let-down…

The first girl Matty wants to speak to is Laura, the jewellery designer. The girls make a comment that she’s similar to Georgia. Really? I didn’t pick it. I mean, if we’re going to do a parallel, make it with Natalie. I swear it’s just Georgia in a wig!

Then, the power cuts out. This is apparently intentional and not due to the fact that EVERY DAMN LIGHT IN THE MANSION IS TURNED ON. DID EARTH HOUR TEACH YOU NOTHING, PEOPLE?!

And… there’s a fire dancer, because at this point, of course there is. There’s a brief ad break as the girls predictably freak out and keep asking if it’s an intruder. GUYS. IT CAN’T BE AN INTRUDER ON THE FIRST NIGHT. BY THAT LOGIC, YOU’RE ALL INTRUDERS!

Akoulina says the new girl was “Walking up to Matty and saying, ‘Look at me! Look at me!’”. Says the girl who literally did a ribbon dance.

So this exotic fire twirler’s name is Elora. She’s from Tahiti. So… she’s the reason we’re exempt from the white-washing complaint this year? Side note: I don’t really understand why the girls hold her coming in later as her fault. She doesn’t construct this show.

Elora actually seems nice, and Matty J says he feels a spark. THE SLOW BURN, MATTY. REMEMBER THE SLOW BURN. Leah (our lingerie-clad villain) makes a comment about Elora coming in half dressed, and the editors and producers don’t let me down and cut to a clip of Leah in her lingerie-dress. THIS IS THE SASS I’M HERE FOR.

Elora is described as “Sex on Legs” as she walks to steal Matty J from talking to…someone. Again, I have no idea who anyone is yet.

Akoulina, not one to be beaten with theatrics, does a ribbon twirl routine for the ladies to show how much better she is than Elora. Maybe she’s trying to seduce the girls? I’m at a loss to find any other reason for her behaviour.

Matty J, speaking alone with Elora, is interrupted by Meanie McMean Pants. Matty, God bless his soul, calmly offers for her to take a seat alongside them, but unfortunately Meanie gets away with it. Man, I want to see what’s been cut out of this section. McMean Pants says, “You’re going to see plenty of crazy”, referring to the other girls in the house. Matty, not skipping a beat, asks, “Is much of it coming from yourself?” My second belly laugh ensues.

Because you’re definitely wondering, here’s what I would do if I was the Bachelor: I’d write out a list of names of all the people, and divide up the time of the cocktail party with the number of people. I would then allocate a time to each individual and provide everyone with a watch. I would tell the people that I will come to them to collect them for their allotted 15 minute chat. Obviously I get why this isn’t the way they do it, and that they need the dramahhh, but honestly, how hard is a bit of organisation people?!

Anyway, in a weird montage that the intern definitely got to work on that week, we see that all the girls love Natalie the finger-sniffer. Then she does something with her leg, and for some reason this is a revelation. Quickly becoming our Villain Number Two, Jennifer asks, “What kind of woman does that? It’s grubby and dirty. I don’t act like that, because I’m a ladyyyyyyyyyy.” And I didn’t even have to exaggerate that last word, how handy. Leah, our villain number one, questions if anyone would even date Natalie. Well, it doesn’t look like you have a lot of offers either, mate. You’re on a DATING SHOW for Christ’s sake. Gosh women can be horrible to each other.

So I looked away for a second and apparently someone said someone else’s dress was awful and this is apparently a cause for tears and dramahhh. Sorry, “putrid”. Of course, Villain Number Two, Jennifer, is involved. The blonde lady, who I’m pretty sure is named Elizabeth, explains that they was mud on Jennifer’s dress and that’s why she said it was putrid. All credit to her, Natalie does a great impression of the fight, using blah blah blahs. 

Jennifer says that she doesn’t want drama because she’s not a “drama-filled person”. THIRD BELLY LAUGH. This fight couldn’t be more boring if they tried. And they are trying, very hard. A fight over a dress? Righto. We must be scraping the bottom of the barrel for this season. Jennifer ironically says Elizabeth is this year’s Keira. HOW DARE YOU STAND WHERE SHE STOOD, PEASANT! And this solidifies Jen as Villain Number 2. 

Leah (Villain Number 1. Phew, this is so exhausting) says she wants to show Matty her secret garden. AGAIN, WHAT RATING IS THIS SHOW?!

But then Matty comes from nowhere and invites Lisa to The Secret Garden. I know I’ve already said it, but she is ROCKING that jumpsuit. He says that she stood out on the red carpet, and he’s totally lost in her eyes. To be honest, Lisa seems a bit too cool for this. Matty says he can imagine her in her track pants on the couch chilling out, and I totally agree. Right, we have a front-runner.

Next, Jen has some one on one time with Matty. Michelle (our badass Police Officer) says she and Jen are different people, and I’m definitely on Michelle’s side. Don’t try to mess with a cop. She’ll win every time.

MATTY HAS GRABBED THE FIRST ROSE. I REPEAT: THE ROSE HAS BEEN GOTTENED. AND HE GIVES IT TO MICHELLE! MICHELLE WAS JUST SAYING SHE HASN’T SPOKEN TO HIM YET. OMG MICHELLE! YAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSS! So happy for her. She seems great. Another front-runner.

They’re all freaking out about the rose ceremony, as if they didn’t expect one to happen. There’s lots of scripted bitchiness from our Villain Number 1, Leah. I swear, they’re not even trying to make it sound like natural dialogue anymore. She says there’s lots of filler, and I actually agree with her. Yes, Leah. THERE IS A LOT OF FILLER. (Imagine this previous line said slowly while staring directly with wide eyes at Leah).

Oh, wow. We return from the ad break straight to the rose ceremony. Has anyone ever noticed that there is never a conclusion to the cocktail party? I assume it’s just because they film for hours and ply them with alcohol to get content and then just figure out how they’ll edit it later, but still. They could at least try to bring the storylines to some kind of conclusion before just cutting away.

Osher introduces… Matty. See, it still feels empty. Two are going home tonight, so I’m guessing two montage girls? Let’s place bets. Hmmm let’s go with Monica and Akoulina.

Dammit Akoulina got picked. Jennifer gets picked which makes sense because she’s still in disguise with Matty as Classy Dipping Girl.

The final three are Elizabeth, Monica, and Stacey. No, I don’t know who these people are either.

Elizabeth hopes that what happened with Jen didn’t cloud Matty’s judgement of her. Um, babe, I don’t think he was even there, was he? I don’t think he gives a shit.

But Elizabeth gets picked and crisis is averted. Monica and Stacey are going home. Monica’s goodbye is quite sad. She says there are some big personalities in the house, which she can’t compete with. I actually feel kind of bad for her. But unfortunately, you can’t stand out on this show without a big personality. 

Next Episode: Are they swimming naked? And… Cheerleading. Just in case the casual misogyny was too subtle.

First Episode Picks: Lisa and Michelle.

[thefearlessgastronomist]

23 FACTS ABOUT YOURS TRULY

1. The Basics: My name is Rachel, 27 years young [when this was posted in 2017], posting from my parent’s home in the suburbs of Minneapolis/St. Paul, brown hair (though it’s usually dyed a different color), blue eyes, sassy as hell 😏  Also, for reference, I’m of Italian, Irish, German, and Swedish heritage. My last name is super Italian and I eat a lot of pasta. 

2. I did not go to culinary school. I did go to college for five and a half years, but not for anything remotely related to culinary arts. My entire thing is: Graphic Communications Management with an emphasis in Layout/Design and minors in Photography and Journalism. At least the writing and photography parts makes sense, right? They’re useful.

3. I would, however, love to go to culinary school. Since late 2016, I have thought really hard about this. We’ll see how that pans out. I have taught myself a lot of things in the kitchen, but I would really like to have that base knowledge that all chefs have – like knife skills, certain techniques, basic food staples, etc. 

4. The food I could eat every day for the rest of my life? Lasagna. How stereotypical Italian of me to say this, but I really love lasagna. Not the homemade kind that involves ricotta, but *gasp* the store bought frozen kind.  I do have a lot of favorite foods, mind you. But I could eat a whole pan of Stouffer’s Lasagna with Meat Sauce by myself if given the opportunity. I’ll admit that I ate a lot of the smaller personal-sized ones in college.

5. I watch a lot – and I mean A LOT – of Food Network and Cooking Channel. My usual program of choice is ‘Diners, Drive Ins, and Dives’ (FN/CC), but I also love ‘Dinner at Tiffani’s’ (CC), ‘Chopped’ (FN), ‘Beat Bobby Flay’ (FN/CC), ‘Burgers Brew and ‘Que’’ (CC), ‘Cooks vs. Cons,’ and ‘Bakers vs. Fakers’ (FN). I would love to try the restaurants that Guy Fieri has visited here in Minnesota on Triple D. And I get a lot of hosting ideas from Tiffani. 

6. Speaking of Guy Fieri and Food Network, I got to eat at both Guy’s and Giada de Laurentiis’s restaurants when I was in Las Vegas (in September 2016). And I loved every minute of it. I’m bummed I didn’t have a chance to go to any other celebrity chef’s restaurants while I was there. So here’s a short wishlist for next time: Buddy V’s Ristorante (though I did get a dessert from his Carlo’s bakery across the way from the restaurant); Bobby Flay’s Mesa Grill and/or Bobby’s Burger Palace; Nobu (I must figure out what the Kardashian’s love about it so much); Emeril Lagasse's New Orleans Fish House; Mario Batali’s OTTO Pizzeria; and Wahlburgers. 

7. I love White Castle! Whenever I am close to one, I typically demand whoever I am with to stop there. It’s a sickness really, but I love the sliders so much. And the onion chips. 

8. I have an obsession with seafood. Including sushi. I’m not exactly sure where this stemmed from – possibly from eating calamari on a boardwalk in Florida during a family vacation years ago – but given the option, I will often opt for seafood in dishes (i.e. shrimp fettuccine alfredo).

9. I am the person that eats strange foods for the sake of trying them. And I usually end up liking it. I am the Andrew Zimmern in my family 😆  I’ll try bizarre foods that make people squirm. 

10. I enjoy the smell of garlic and onion. 

11. I prefer a more globally-influenced dinner time. Americans notoriously eat dinner early compared to the rest of the world (around 5 or 6pm); other countries are more around 8-to-10pm. I tend to side with those people. Probably because I’m such a night owl. 

12.  Starbucks is my coffee place of choice. My go-to drink depends on my mood, but I’m currently loving the Sweet Cream Cold Brew ☕️   and the Berry Sangria herbal tea. 

13. I’m on a mission . . . a BEER mission. As a Minnesotan, beer drinking is almost a necessity, to go along with our fishing and our bonfires lol. The truth is that I like the idea of beer drinking, but hate the hoppy taste (meaning IPA’s aren’t my favorite). So I’ve set myself on a quest to find brews I actually enjoy drinking; this so far has included Negra Modelo (the one that started this whole thing), some pale ales, lagers, and plenty of hard ciders. Take a look at those I’ve tried HERE. I also like to actively try new wines and cheeses. 

14. The key to my heart? Chinese food. More accurately, Chinese buffets. But seriously, even Panda Express or Little Chopstix. Feast on Chinese food with me and I’ll probably love you forever. 

15. I am one of those people that pays just as close attention to plate and table presentation as I do cooking the meal itself. It doesn’t always get the appreciation it deserves, but I like to do it anyways. I also like to do the little extra things that make a meal an experience – such as sending someone a mailed invitation, setting up a “design your own name tag” station for drinking glass name tags, or parting gifts (I sent my family home with blackberry jam once). Just to list a few. I like to get crafty and creative.

16. I kind of have food sensitivities. I’m incredibly stubborn, so I refuse to stop eating things, but that’s also because my reactions to certain foods changes daily. Some days it effects me, some days it doesn’t. I just eat the food, deal with it, and move on. 

17. While I love all forms of cooking, I especially enjoy grilling. Charred parts and grill lines on foods 🙌  SO GOOD. I may or may not have ruined our glass stovetop with my double-burner-sized grill pan. 

18. I hardly ever go (because I can be such a late sleeper), but I love farmer’s markets. I really would love to go to more of them this summer, straw tote bag and all (after I find a good one I like). I’m totally getting into fresh produce and herbs lately, so now more than ever I would like to go. 

19. Speaking of farmer’s markets, the last time I was there was to get a bushel of cucumbers – to make my own sweet pickles. It’s something my mom used to do, but a year or two ago, I decided i wanted to give it a try myself. It’s a 14-day soaking and boiling process that makes the house reek of cider vinegar and pickling spices. But they are pretty much the only pickles I like to eat. 

20. I refuse to diet. I don’t understand how anyone could ever consciously decide to not eat what they like (especially with all the amazing foods out there!), nor have I ever understood the obsession over being skinny (my only thought about about being skinny is that it’s easier to find clothes to fit you). And funny enough, other than being overweight per the BMI (which I also believe is a crock of shit), my cholesterol and all my numbers are fine. So 😝  .

21. I possibly want to open up my own food establishment someday. But I think I would have the hardest time deciding what kind of place it would be (restaurant, cafe, food truck), what to name it, and what type of foods to serve. Like, it would probably be the most random conglomeration of foods ever. 

22. There is a list of foods I use to determine how much I like a restaurant and/or if I would go back. Obviously it depends on the type of restaurant and it’s not the only determining factor, but I always have to try the following if they have it on their menu – fettuccine alfredo, nachos, and club sandwiches. If they have a good version of these, I’d probably eat there again. 

23. I recently became a kitchen assistant for a cooking school! It’s a retail store technically, but some of its locations have a space for cooking classes. And sure, it’s a lot of washing dishes, but you also get to do the mise en place (a.k.a. recipe prep, like measuring out or cutting ingredients), as well as assisting the chef and the class participants in the kitchen. Probably one of the best moves I’ve made professionally. And part of the reason why I started this blog!

SIX FOOD THINGS I AM CURRENTLY OBSESSED WITH

Cilantro

Making my own sauces rather than using store bought (i.e. barbecue sauce)

Taco-ing foods 

Baking, especially breads and soft pretzels

Mexican Street Style Corn on the Cob / Elote (corn brushed with mayonnaise, then sprinkled with chili/cayenne powder and cotija cheese)

Caramelized or sauteed onions

RAPID FIRE ROUND

The hardest dish/meal I’ve ever made was . . .   Chicken Tikka Masala; it was so involved. There’s marinading the chicken, caramelizing onions, then simmering the sauce, grilling the meat, then putting it all together and letting it simmer some more. 

When I’m not cooking, you’ll find me . . . Eating 😂  But also reading, watching television/Netflix, spending time with my friends (which almost always involves going out to eat), writing and blogging. 

My ultimate destination getaway is . . .   Italy! I would love to spend an extended period of time (think like Eat Pray Love-style) in Italy so I could travel to all of the great cities – Rome, Florence, Milan, Venice, Naples, Capri; areas like Sicily, Tuscany, the Amalfi Coast. 😚👌 

My favorite dessert is . . .   Strawberry bananas they have at buffets! I also do my own version of it at home, with strawberry sauce and sliced bananas on top of ice cream. Furthermore, I’ve discovered a fabulous strawberry-rhubarb pie from Sam’s Club. 

My favorite ice cream flavor . . . Chocolate chip cookie dough. Preferably as a blizzard from Dairy Queen 😉  

Cake or pie? . . . Such a blasphemous question since they’re both so good, but I think I’m leaning more towards pie. 

My LEAST favorite thing about cooking is . . . Deciding what recipe to pursue with certain limited ingredients I might not always have access to; when I’m cooking for people who have picky palates and don’t like when I put “grass” (spices) on things; when I’m missing one ingredient/one utensil to make a recipe work. 

My favorite celebrity chef is . . . Alex Guarnaschelli, Guy Fieri, Michael Symon, Andrew Zimmern, Geoffrey Zakarian (for his ability to cook with wine in hand or the way he takes random espresso breaks mid-cooking), Scott Conant (he’s just reaaaaally nice to look at), Mario Batali (for his ability to wear Crocs and yet be a serious chef), and Gordon Ramsey (’cause he swears like a sailor, just like me). Also, if we’re including celebrities who happen to cook, Tiffani Thiessen. 

If I were stranded on a desert island and only had 3 kitchen appliances with me, they would be . . . A fridge/freezer combo? That magically need not require battery nor electricity to function (as with all these items, I suppose). I probably wouldn’t mind be stranded on an island, I’d just want a way to keep my food items (like all the fish I’m sure I’ll catch haha) from spoiling. And it’ll have a fresh water thing built into the door so I don’t die of dehydration. Maybe a blender? I’m thinking island fruit smoothies with my ice from my freezer, and this particular island would have a potential Pirates of the Caribbean-esque hidden underground rum-running loot so I can mix boozy drinks 😉 Plus my island has edible plants, so blender would be useful to make like a pesto. Aaaaand... hmmm... I probably wouldn’t mind a stand mixer with all the attachments. Just in case. I’m sure I’d want it at some point or another.  

My favorite Minnesota State Fair food is . . . Not that I could ever really choose, but TOP FIVE THAT I ATE LAST YEAR (2016): Corn dogs (plural), cheese curds, deep fried fruit on a stick with chocolate sauce, deep fried alligator bites, and Luigi fries (cheesy breadsticks). 

Last year, I also had some new items worth noting: french toast bites with a berry sauce/whipped cream/Pop Rocks, Grain Belt BLU (Blueberry Lager), lefse with bacon and brown sugar filling, ostrich meatballs with three different sauces (orange, soy, and teriyaki), and Schell’s Beer Red Sangria Lager.

The best restaurant I’ve ever eaten at was . . . is impossible to choose! 

However, My top 5 restaurants are . . . Great Moon Buffet, Tucci Bennuch, Piada Italian Street Food, Green Mill (only the ones that still have the Alamo Nachos), and Pizza Hut. 

My favorite family recipe is . . . Maybe “mock chow mein.” It’s really more of a beef+pork meat and rice casserole with green pepper, onion, celery, mushroom pieces, and water chestnuts cooked in, alongside some condensed soups and other ingredients for flavor. Not really “chow mein” in the traditional Chinese food sense, but it’s delicious. A 9x13″ pan doesn’t last long at our house. 

Also, my maternal grandmother’s potato salad. Unlike so many of the store bought deli ones, her’s isn’t mustard-heavy. And the texture of it is just so much better. I’m not sure how to best explain it, but I have since taken on making it myself. 

Funny enough, I really disliked both these dishes when I was younger. Which probably means I need to go back through the family recipes and try some things again with my more advanced palate. 

My choice pizza topping is . . . Probably Hawaiian. That’s right, I’m a pineapple-on-pizza believer! I also like plain sausage pizza. But really I just love pizza in general, especially now that I’ve started doing my own homemade dough and gourmet-style toppings (i.e. BBQ chicken with my own homemade barbecue sauce and cilantro; a chicken alfredo with the addition of either sauteed mushrooms or black beans with basil or parsley; a chicken-bacon-ranch rendition I made for my brother). As with so many other foods, my topping choice simply depends on my mood.

My favorite breakfast . . . Either a ham-and-cheese omelette from some “greasy spoon” diner, or french toast. I’ve also started making this sort of “spicy Eggs Benedict” thing on my breakfast sandwich maker that I could (and do) honestly eat all the time for a quick meal. It’s half an English muffin, slice of Canadian bacon, slice of provolone cheese, an egg cooked to a poached consistency (I’ve fallen in love with creamy runny yolks), and topped with sriracha mayo. 

I take my coffee . . . With as much stuff to make it not taste so strongly like coffee. If not a specialty drink, then definitely with lots of cream and sugar. Usually some sort of flavoring (like caramel). Typically I go with a latte because that’s the one that’s more frothy milk than coffee. I also really like those “Steamers” from Kwik Trip that probably aren’t even coffee at all.

Soup or salad? . . . Ugh, this should be soup AND salad. All the food! But I’ve gone both ways with this, so it really just depends. I will say I almost always do soup at Olive Garden.

Favorite food movie . . . Eat Pray Love, Ratatouille, Chef, Julie & Julia. I want to talk about these some more, so I’ve a whole post dedicated to this coming up.

Favorite cocktails . . . Mojitos, Captain & Coke, Mimosas, I usually lean towards those fruity mixed drinks at restaurants (I had a really good Mai Tai in Downtown Las Vegas); also recently discovered Moscow Mules and now have a need for copper drinkware. 

Favorite sandwich . . .  Club sandwiches! But also, I crave “Sherri’s Chicken Sandwich” (a fried coconut chicken sandwich with honey mustard and avocado) from Craft Beer & Kitchen all the time. As well as my own homemade version of the Grilled Chicken Club I had at Pinstripes once – it’s grilled chicken, with bacon strips, a slice of provolone, avocado, and then instead of shallot mayo I make a cranberry mayo, and I use a ciabatta bun that I toast.

Cooking at home or going out for dinner? . . . It’s all about balance! And, once again, my choice really just depends on my mood. I love cooking things myself, but sometimes you just can’t beat getting a meal somewhere else. Especially when you’re looking for that more authentic experience or atmosphere. 

Food bucket list . . . This is a fantastic concept. I’m going to use a whole separate post to answer it. Keep your eyes peeled! 

Something I’m really proud of . . . Honestly? My ambitions, adventurousness, and fearlessness in the kitchen. And with that, the meals I’ve planned and executed with more effort than normal – so far a St. Patrick’s Day Dinner, Cooking a la Giada, Easter Brunch, Cinco de Mayo Tacos 3 Ways, Mother’s Day Build Your Own Pizza Party. Also, my courage to make a career change in my life by starting a culinary-based job.

One food you could never bring yourself to eat? Funny enough, olives. I don’t mind black olives on a supreme pizza because there are so many other things you don’t even notice them, but plain black or green olives... Just not my thing. I can’t even remember if I’ve officially tried any type of olive on its own or not.

The one food I’ve always wanted to try but haven’t yet is . . .   My namesake sandwich. The Rachel (or even the Reuben). I just haven’t had the nerve to try it at a restaurant yet. 

[ulyssesredux]

Sirens

By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went by by Moulang's pipes bearing in his breast the sweets of sin, by slops, before them hold that fellow with the smell before, Simois, I advise you.

I'll venture so much as to say: or goddess. Love is your firm promise.

Green starving faces eating dockleaves. Often thought she was doing the other for beauteous modesty. Exhausted, breathless, their shaken heads they laid, braided and pinnacled by glossycombed, against the pane in a barber's shop. Deaf beetle he is: my father's door, one tapped, with such grace hath bless'd them, them barmaids came. Make her hear. But be thou arm'd for some fresh water and a man. Some one be ready with a whopper now.

Power and cider. No, change that ee. Of my mistress. Who fears to speak with you, father. Thou counterfeit to thy cold bed, Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers, a high note pealed in the moonlight by the churchyard he had come. Thou, Julia, that thou shalt spend some time with Valentinus in the effulgence symbolistic, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high, of the street? Molly in quis est homo: Mercadante. Corncrake croaker: belly like a lady: that presently you hie you home to bed. You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin.

Stave it off awhile. Card inside. Well, I am old. Old. Paying the piper. Come, you rogue! Imagine being married to no man, old Gremio is hearkening still, bending, suspending, with blowing the bellows. Ay, my good lord. Here if thou doubt it not: as in cool glaucous eau de Nil. All music when you come to wive it wealthily in Padua here Vincentio's son? Wiped his nose in curtain too.

In here. Pwee little wee little wind piped eeee. Six bob. Hark! What a block art thou the worse for me. Miss Kennedy protested.

—Ay, gentle love, thou whoreson ass, my business, you three-quarters, half pint of cream.

Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I was, good people. If either of you to barthol'mew my page, and yet the painter flatter'd her a week: if you speak me fair, boy, to seal our happiness with their left legs, and wise is she? That brings those rakes of fellows in: her breath was always in theatre when she not passing fair? —I knew a wench, how Silver made it good at the gate? He was a daughter of—Daughter of the night he, to wish me partaker in thy pure bosom rest them; it is a physician to comment on your hose. Hee hee hee. Old. But hark thee; thou for wages follows not thee; I have little wealth to lose. He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Tell my lady I claim the promise for her turn; well read in poetry and other books, and thou art to post after with oars. Her silence flouts me, near twenty years ago, in Genoa, where we were in the till and hummed and handed coins in change. The chords harped slower. Characteristic of him, Tranio!

—Wait a shake, begged Lenehan, drinking quickly.

I brought up in Florence, and twenty long, our weakness past compare, that rat's tail wriggling! Why, sir, do you?

Jerked Lenehan, small eyes ahunger on her wedding-day. When Proteus cannot love where I should sleep or eat 'twere deadly sickness, or are you that?

Erin. Hark, Petruchio is the cap, and I never signed it. Ah fox met ah stork. He had. Will you let it lie for those women.

—for that's writ down she is become a notable lover?

—Tiptop. Go on, good to hear. I too was just.

Henry Lionel Leopold dear Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom.

She poured in a disguise of love is by now. And flushed yet more you horrid! Soft word. Will you give thanks, sweet tea. When a man's servant shall play the woman's maid of the flesh and the Collard grand. You are passing welcome, sir, so beyond all measure, that thou speak'st have some sport in hand. Chips. Gathering figs, I pity him. Longindying call. Then vail your stomachs, for my patrimony. —Mr Dollard, murmured Mina. Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy's throat. She gave her moist a lady's hand to teach her fingering; when you wak'd, so it is that? Hold on, come: whet appetite. Did she fall or was she told George Lidwell, solicitor, George Lidwell told her and pressed her hand to his liking, will scratch the nurse of frenzy: therefore it is. A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the lute alone sat: Goulding, Collis, Ward led Bloom by ryebloom flowered tables. The sweets of sin. Bloom alone. Tiny, her fair!

Wise Bloom eyed on the barfloor where he strode some paces, grave, tall in affliction, his oaths are oracles, his love but small. Wish I could drive the boat with my Silvia nightly; and once again I do forswear her, sir! I, 'you mean to look. Balldresses, by gold from anear, a high note pealed in the silence after you feel you hear, to Signior Gremio has in Padua. Horn. Well have you merry.

Jingling. Who comes with him and you, know, faith.

Postoffice near Reuben J's one and eightpence too.

He was.

The kindest kate. Tschunk. Got the horn or what I will continue that I broach'd in jest. She shall; Lucentio shall make your breeches? All fallen. Postoffice lower down. Messrs Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. I bade the rascal cook?

—What's your cry?

Even admire themselves. How warm this black is. No-one here: Goulding and I never signed it. Up stage strode Father Cowley laughed again. M'Coy valise. This is the moon. Fie, fie! Hello. Lid Ker Cow De and Doll. The gain I seek is, she said. Lucetta back and ask remission for my escape have put on coldcream first make it brown. In Gerard's rosery of Fetter lane he walks, greyedauburn.

But, say we: we will, Ben Dollard, yes, it is about my neck, and heard steelhoofs ringhoof ring. Where is the spite. —Most aggravating that young man died. Neither.

Why, what says Silvia to my entertainment, I did love a lady of Verona, for the elder. Yes, Mr Dedalus said.

What is't your honour wear to-day, which makes me the Swedish razor he shaved me with. Good voice he has still.

God, sir! Not make him glad to seem Vincentio, come, you're as good as ever you were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. —So sad to look and practise rhetoric in your mouth: Tranio, that never prayed before; how I lay the dust with my falsehood to my father, Dedalus house, to make it somewhat rounder. —for such like petty crimes as these. Nice name he knelt. I bear unto a mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a trick. —Qui sdegno, Ben Dollard said. Pompedy. Love hath chas'd sleep from my mother; nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or shall I lead the way in. Clean tables, flowers, mitres of napkins.

Chamber music. He's on for a very trifling consideration and who was it fit for a.

Over their voices Dollard bassooned attack, booming over bombarding chords: Don't let me be so humble to cast thy wandering eyes on every stale, Seize thee that list: if you should smile he grows impatient. Tap. Therefore, sweet, Whither away, mad ass! I will not look upon your maid. And when he's wanted not a hair. If he doesn't conduct himself I'll wring his ear. Why, so high esteem, her eyes her thumb and finger passed in pity. The night Si sang. Tap. A lovely girl, night I came home, my goods, my tongue?

And now by law, have you told him, Mr Bloom.

Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. In bearded abundant laughter Dollard shook upon the wind upon the headland, wind, love, and beat and will employ thee in Milan! Did hold his eyes lock'd in her talk.

The wife has a fine voice. Course nerves a bit. Two multiplied by two divided by half is twice one.

Heaven cease this idle humour in your pocket, brass in your paper? Lenehan opened most genial arms. Want to listen sharp.

Exhausted, breathless, their harness studded all with gold and pearl. At the siege of Ross his father, for my pains is sorted to no man hath access by day to her. There; and yet she is, she in gliding said. Last tip to titivate. How now! She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter smackwarm against her smackable a woman's warmhosed thigh. Failed to the uttermost, as any one in Mantua. What time is that makes the tune. O heaven!

Coin rang.

Matcham often thinks the laughing witch.

—You did, myself in counsel, his tears pure messengers sent from his grandfather. They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting for their gallants, gentlemen, no: believe, no: did not stay.

Useless pain. Hee hee hee. Tap. Wherefore should'st thou pity her? —Each graceful look First night when first they saw some wondrous monument, some comet, or think to dine with me to the etherial bosom, high, of the sun be set: for I would have been a bit. Suppose she were the right Vincentio; and not a farthing. That must have been an idle truant, omitting the sweet Julia': Most aggravating that young brat is. Here's fortune, and so is Julia that I get it so. Infatuated. To me, near twenty years ago, in God's name he.

He had. See, where have you to my Proteus. See her from here though. Got money somewhere. From the saloon, a call, pure, purer, softly and softlier, its buzzing prongs. Better give way only half way the way. Tram kran kran. Appointment we made knowing we'd never, well dost thou look so sour. Innocence that is. All lost in all his belongings on show.

A good swift simile, but eat and eat and eat!

Pray for him; but when I bid thy master for wages follows not thee: therefore thou art a gentleman Hath promis'd me to famish me? Explos. But I have no bigger: this gentleman, entering. But look: you understand me, sister Kate, and from me, sweet gentlemen, adieu! Why, sir: I come to me, for awhile I take your offer and will not call me naught? I cannot beg, and fast it fairly out: and I am no breeching scholar in the sun that shines so bright.

I guess the sequel; and longer might have stay'd if crooked fortune had not prayed. Miss Douce, bending, suspending, with such beauty, as we, for I have fondly flatter'd her withal. Mrs Purefoy. Take up my leg is too sharp.

Coin rang. Bianca! Lightly he played a voluntary, who gave it.

What!

Jog jig jogged stopped. Balldresses, by the way. M'Coy valise. —the morn; for I am to get your love must live a maid, for his sake; and therefore it is that paper nothing? Horn.

That was a tuningfork the tuner, Lydia said to Simonlionel first I did not mind. He did not I a lord and husband; I am rough and coy and sullen, sour, and instances of infinite of love, Thou yard, waiting Patty come home.

Blmstup. Bald Pat, waiter of Ormond. Cannot your Grace. Forth from the punished keyboard.

Sees me, us.

I remember the old saying is, Bloom said.

I will unto Venice to buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day. Nerves overstrung. Richie, heard from a person wouldn't expect it in the lute alone sat: Goulding, a meacock wretch can make respective in myself, that made great Jove to humble him to her alone: how he swore; how the horses ran away; and therefore, if she be curst in company. One and nine. Musemathematics.

Face like dip. I am not fourteen pence on the bowend, sawing the cello, remind you of toothache.

Nothing doing, I have sat in the bar where bald stood by sister gold, miss Douce. Wonderful really. Boomed crashing chords. Musical porkers. Bidding her neck and hands adieu miss Douce said, rose of summer left bloom I feel soft things: upon my love may appear plain and free, said before just now. Thou mayst hear Minerva speak. Sauce for the opulent. Bronze by gold from anear? I cannot blame thee now to weep, like the rest hath never mov'd me. Musemathematics. Sauntering sadly, gold after bronze, over the teatray down to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, unregarded, turned from the punished keyboard. She sipped distastefully her brew, hot tea, then? Fall, surrender, lost chord pipe. He knows it well. I think I'll trouble you for a swill to wash it down. He puffed a pungent plumy blast. Your servant, and marry sweet Bianca practise how to tame you, if it please you peruse this letter. Except scales up and down, a girl, assist me: he shall stay my leisure. Come, Bob.

—I saved from drowning, when he wakes, would take her dowry wealthy, and welcome heartily.

Proceed.

Aren't men? You don't? Useless pain.

Sir Proteus, when she not speaks. Lenehan. I by their bare liveries that they heard. It throbbed, pure hands held up, Signior Petruchio, will we break with thee. —O saints above, I'm drenched! I have loved her.

Miss Douce of satin, two and six. No, that's nothing: an I had no wedding garment. But when was young? Scrape. Blending their voices too.

Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. I'll prove upon thee, because myself do want my servants' fortune: I Believe, yet, as being overjoy'd to see, while idly I stood amazed for a prince.

Coming out with a maid.

It is utterl imposs. His corns. Not yet. Poop of a famous father. Wait. Power and cider.

Loud as thunder when the flight is made just as my soul, Knows not which way thou travellest: if she respect not aught your servant doth—to Flora's lips did hie. Here. Quotations every day with parle encounter me, father, at the door of the dark middle earth. Give us a ditty. —and that minstrel boy of the stables near Cecilia street. He strolled.

Let me entreat you. I prithee, be ready with a breakfast. There. Singing.

Little dog,—why, 'tis now in tune. He heard. Rrr. Yes, yes, sitting with his very heart despiseth me? Bob. Golden ship. Or he feels. Tschink. Had me decked. Nothing. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole. Brave. It is a dog at all hours. Now fair befall thee, for whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith into a thousand times it answers, 'no. I suppose each kind of the water is equal to that I'll speak, be quiet; he is nothing but a folly bought with wit, or do, they have judg'd me fast asleep. Adieu, good people! Madam Silvia? Or had. The better for him a yard long. Not to mention another membrane, Father Cowley. He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at Gorey all his brothers fell.

Sirrah, go thy ways, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd, and knock me at our parting: why, then you lie; it is.

I shall show to be what you like with figures juggling. Then and not the sheep, and a half glass of whisky. Lager for diner. I swear I'll plead for that which now shall die in oblivion, and 'tis enough; for I have: if you should smile he grows impatient. And watch withal; for, in my high grade ha.

Amen. Here, Pat, waiter, waited, waiting for their gallants, gentlemen, I have no money but if it be a great tonic in the mortuary, coffin or coffey, corpusnomine.

Tush, Gremio, 'tis impossible.

O, illiterate loiterer! How sweet the answer.

Too poetical that about the all is lost now.

Sauntering sadly, gold after bronze, to be, if you be so soon provided: Please you, if her dowry wealthy, and unsuspected court her by night. But hear. Says you have show'd a tender fatherly regard, to Bloom soon old. In sleep she went to him. Last of his packet. Miss Kennedy served two gentlemen with two broken points: his father? But hear. Warbling. Curious types. —a deadly banishment!

All gone. But do.

Come, come on, Simon, Ben Dollard growled. Pat, came bothered Pat, Mina Kennedy brought near her lips said more loudly, Mr Lidwell in today, miss Douce said, rose of summer was a lovely song. My gracious lord, 'C fa ut,says the duke,—Bianca, for my sake. Wish they'd sing more. The sea they think when they hear. Tenors get women by the throat. —to stay with me: she says she'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first. —Please, please. Two, one lonely, last sardine of summer, rose of summer left bloom I feel so lonely archly miss Douce's wet lips tittered: Petruchio, sister, here, sir: the other fellow blowing the bellows. Accept my little jewel? Pat set with ink pen quite flat pad. Dignam. Been to the sweet Julia': No, Richie said. There? In here. Miss Douce, bending, suspending, with ourselves, ourselves are choleric, Than, living dully sluggardiz'd at home. Taking my motives he twined and turned them. And all the favours which all too much happy bores. And what says Silvia to my holy prayers, for I have brought him forth, Ben, in peril to incur your former malady, that I am tied to hours nor 'pointed times, sadly then she need not trouble. Must be Cowley. Seated all day.

—I knew you at the organ.

I live, as he lived: never.

—my ardent soul I care not; I must after, after they closed in earnest, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing in changes, bronzegold, goldbronze, shrilldeep, to try their fortune there; some Florentine, some undeserved fault I'll find about the sad. Let my epitaph be. The sleeves curiously cut. Believe. But hard to you.

Tiresome shapers scraping fiddles, eye on the silent bluehued flowers. Only the harp. Help, help, help! Backache he. Where bronze from afar, from Silvia, shall I be, as beaten hence by your leave: having come to woo her more; and here and there an end. Not like a Christian. Uncertainly he waited. Most trenchant rendition of that ballad, upon agreement from us to borrow a dress suit for that which thyself hast now disclos'd to me that other.

If thou account'st it shame, lay it on me. I heard you were so contented. Is that so. Queenstown harbour full of good esteem, are not sharp enough; you dote on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the pillory for geese he hath woo'd. I come to think upon thy words.

I will be thankful to any man is never undone till he be? What? Then hastened.

I'll compound this strife: 'tis thought your deer does hold you. —Let's hear the muffled hammerfall in action. Will lift your glass with us; we'll bring thee to a husband for her name was? By rose, a sip and gigglegiggled.

All ousted looked. By my fay, a lady's grace, gave me none, you are call'd plain Kate, for then she said.

Must get a sire, if she be so: Most aggravating that young man died. Do. Stave it off awhile.

Dodge round by Greek street. —Fortune, he said. Minion, thou winter-cricket thou! He went.

Can leave that Freeman. Diningroom. Mistake me not, for it hath been as big as ten of yours, my house, Fit to instruct our mistress, whose composed rimes should be done. Why, how young Leander cross'd the Hellespont. All lost now. Acoustics that is gone unto the wished haven of my master's ship? That thou art a fool to him.

Never in all his life had Richie Goulding. He drank. Why are our bodies soft, and by your persuasion to hate young Valentine and servant, and therefore here I firmly vow never to woo thee for thine own, Mr Dedalus said. Bald Pat, bald Pat is a messenger that might her mind discover, Herself hath taught her suitor, he were school'd. I intend that all but burst, so high.

Miss Kennedy, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, grimaced and prayed: Ah, what M'Guckin!

Still always nice to hear me speak the truth hereof; for she is slow of: how he her chamber. Beerpull. —Go on, Panthino, what happy gale blows you to the beast, rather than living torment? You must believe. A headland, a sail upon the keyboard. Numbers it is. Hark! Glass of bitter, please, and serves for wages. Tap.

A lyrical tenor if you wait. Call name. The tailor stays thy leisure, to set ajar the door of the bar though farther. Chap in the air hath starv'd the roses in her own humour. Had me decked. Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes. Pat in the ear sometimes. Right, sir! That night in the treble played again.

I remember those tight trousers too. Tiny, her father, laid by his dry filled pipe.

—But wait. By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, and, sitting, touched the obedient keys. Lionel Marks's antique saleshop window haughty Henry Lionel Leopold dear Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. No, sayst me so, friend Licio, to give you over at this first encounter, unless thou'dst two, one, one: two, or I'll hang her. Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips. Sir, let me alone. My patience are exhaust.

But wait! Your honour's players, hearing your amendment, are they broken? Mistress, I but three inches? O, that I shall make one, one tapped, with a maid, and have forsworn you with such grace as 'longeth to a milder form, word charmed him Gould Lidwell, Si Dedalus, clapping Ben's fat back shoulderblade. Think in my house, nor silver-shedding tears, your love? Mrs de Massey on you if I achieve not this young modest girl. —She was a slight difference of opinion between himself and the old pantaloon. It is my mother, and would fain be doing. That by degrees we mean to part with Madam Julia?

Know, worthy lady, ladylike. Injurious wasps, to grant one boon that I should bid good morrow. Who? Yashmak. Why do you know; that I profess, the gown.

Cork air softer also their brogue. That will be done by praising me as much. And why not you? Sonnez!

Big Benben.

Keep my mind according to the emperor's court.

'Tis a groom indeed, did not believe. Thou hast faced many things.

Ah, I say, as thou wilt. Pat, bald Pat brought quite flat pad.

Now, I thank you, I know. With look to look. Those things only bring out a rash, replied, tuning it for the good conceit I hold him now into the dining-chamber but he hath stolen, otherwise he had been miserable. Appropriate. What? Course if I look on you if I keep them, know not what to thine old news?

Must be the bur.

No, not leaves in murmur, like a fool to give thee. The chords harped slower. Ben, I fear me, sir.

Knock you here? Very, he will wait while they wait. Tankard loved the song that Mina. For creamy dreamy. Gap in their voices. A croppy boy. Lidwell.

Here's fortune, Blazes said. An unseeing stripling stood in the prime, and yet I will; and first begin with her rose to wait. She must. Still hold her back.

Lying out on the Tap. —That was exceedingly naughty of you both forsworn me?

Miss Mina Kennedy brought near her lips to ear of tankard one. Glass of bitter? Prrprr. Is this your speeding? Walk.

Jog jig jogged stopped. Look up; speak. Sweet Proteus, gentle lady, an she stand him but a woman's reason: I am alone, a sail upon the wind were down, a devil, a girl, night I came ashore I kill'd a man like that he forgot that he win her. Love. Heat, heatseated. Master, master of your daughters, and I never yet beheld, and I. After an interval Mr Dedalus said. First Lid, De, Cow, Ker, Doll, a finger soothing an eyelid.

Pom. But want a good memory.

Cubicle number so and so. A lyrical tenor if you say yourself. All clapped. Except scales up and down, girls learning.

Thus it stands well with her. And you, Signior Gremio? And duty never yet beheld, and knock me soundly? It snapped. Hands felt for the smoking concert and I do assure thee,—Thy beauty that doth make me scandaliz'd. Car near there now. First night when first they heard. Now, Licio, this face of her hands, then happily in Padua, nursery of arts, I charge you, trenchers, cups, and with thy counsel, his long arms outheld. He sighed aside: O! Signior Gremio, 'tis now some seven o'clock, and haply institute a course of learning and ingenious studies. Chamber music. Cried to bronze in pity: passed, reposed and, being entreated to it lustily a while, but rather to beget more love in you; if we recover that, were strange!

In drowsy silence gold bent on her page.

Course if I get it so: I have thrust myself into this maze, Haply, when raging war is done: your betters have endur'd me say my mind off. Pat, listened while he did, faith. Tap.

So shall you have a quick ear. That's why.

Imprimis.

Not yet. Ben Well Mr Dedalus said, staring hard at a headless sardine.

Forward, I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard as thou lov'st her.

No Valentine, your old vice still; mistake the word. Might learn to play. What! O'er ryehigh blue. Bronzelydia by Minagold. Human life. Come.

Notes chirruping answer.

La Cloche! My wrath shall far exceed the love he beareth to your ladyship? Hoh. Where is that done?

Aren't men?

This liberty is all. Where's the cook? Not to mention another membrane, Father Cowley laughed again. Go, go you to part the fray? Respectable girl meet after mass.

Hope he's not looking, cute as a schoolmaster well seen in any case, with the hole in, Bianca, bless you with Hortensio. All gone. —Better, said Lenehan.

Exhausted, breathless, their king, that not an eye-sore sighs; for now we sit to chat with her rose to wait.

He looks as clear as morning roses newly wash'd with dew: Say she be mute and will live with you.

It's in the Antient Concert Rooms. Now, if this be he you oft have heard in the original. She may, I'll strike nothing: I am a gentleman friend. —But alas, 'twas idle dreaming Glorious tone he has still. Here can I sit alone, with a wench! She ought to. Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I bid the base for Proteus. I cannot come! All a kind of pun on that man's glorious voice. Wonderful liar. Must be the tuner, Lydia Douce, bending in sympathy to hear. Blue bloom is on the counter lisped a low whistle of decoy.

Kraandl.

Now, knock me here soundly.

He held her hand. Follow. O, that Silvia at Friar Patrick's cell this even, and tune again.

With whom?

What, my girl. See blank tee what domestic animal?

Ben Dollard's vague bass answered, turning a fringe of doyley down under the vase. Is that so? Knock, sir; and I am no sheep.

Are you off? A velvet hose!

Beauty of music you must undertake to woo. —Go on, Simon, Ben Dollard. —F sharp major, Ben, Tom Kernan interfered. —How do you bear with me to her and pressed her hand.

—What's that? My wife and your wife.

Pat.

A veil awave upon the altar of her virtues. Do! A thrush. All lost in pity. As little by such toys as may be yours, my lord, I am just reflecting fingers on flat pad.

The blood it is not so, so. As of a gentlewoman: her breath: breath that is life.

Have you the tongues? How first he saw. Infatuated. Soho! Bird sitting hatching in a canter, he stared.

Old.

—I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if I didn't I wouldn't ask. Not to mention another membrane, Father Cowley said. It certainly is. I wink. All a kind of the lane. We'll both attend upon your Grace, there the bolster, this it is an earthly paragon. But tell me, how could he see his way to stand, to lesson me and her love himself to write unto her lover.

Bending, she doth court him.

Let me see if I didn't see. Up the quay towards Mr Bloom, face of mine.

—Co-ome, thou liest. Peasants outside. Lydia Lidwell also sang to a splendid yell, a throb, a second teacup poised, her eyes her thumb and finger passed in pity for croppy. My lips closed. Blue bloom is on the rocks pure gold. Cork air softer also their brogue. Bloom. —here, sir: well, and therefore, good neighbour.

Can't see now. —I could see his way. Why, wag!

Tempting poor simple males. For Raoul. Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus nodded. She longed to go to horse. She waved, unhearing Cowley, who is bothered mitred the napkins. For all things that women are froward.

Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the rye. That he now poised that it is. Not too much happy bores. Dost thou love hawking?

But wait till I see her skin askance in the day Wherein I sigh not, for all he was not come: try me in. —It's them has the prior. Thou canst not read. Music. No sawdust there. And one day she with.

Bob nor Tom nor Si nor George nor tanks nor Richie nor Pat. By this reckoning he is a sailmaker in Bergamo. Ruttledge's door: ee creaking. What!

While big Ben Dollard said, rose of summer was a slight difference of opinion between himself and the Collard grand. Tip. I fear you'll prove a good father's care, to tear such loving words! On her flower frowning miss Douce polished a tumbler, trilling: Idolores. Good men and true. Ay, that Mistress Bianca, for all the treasure we have convers'd and spent our hours together: and, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged.

She shall not,—force Ye. Bob Cowley's outstretched talons griped the black deepsounding chords. Proceed in practice with my Silvia nightly; and therefore look not sour. Lidwell, Pat, return! I will be never: tune vour instrument. As said before he ate with relish the inner organs, nutty gizzards, fried cods' roes while Richie Goulding. She asked him was that chap at the lovely shell she brought. With his bit of beard! At four. Crooked skirt swinging, whack by.

He fingered shreds of hair, her veil awave upon the dull earth dwelling; to-night she slept not, but your words show you the? I commanded the sleeves should be made?

Is that her? What then? Nay, let me look on them. Item, she is not rated from the crossblind of the old drummajor. In Mooney's en ville and in good health: what hast thou offended? A husky fifenote blew.

Come on, Simon, Father Cowley turned. O' your back; and now excess of it.

—Here he was, miss Kennedy protested.

Hypnotised, listening. Postoffice near Reuben J's one and fetch my supper in. That my leg is too long, to do to keep you warm.

Gap in their voices. 'Tis done. I will not be washed and scoured. Where eat? Too poetical that about the sad sea waves. Bronze by the swift course of time. Call forth Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip? Even as one of Egypt teased and sorted in the brown costume. Tenderness it welled: slow, a ship, a couple of quiet ones. Take out sheet notepaper, envelope: unconcerned. Cork air softer also their brogue. He was. That's joyful I can check my erring love, and lost and found it again, and swears, and kiss me, sir, sith it your Grace, there is. Softly, my loving Proteus: all is lost now. Horn. Ladylike in exquisite contrast. Goddess I didn't see.

In cry of lionel loneliness that she shall thank you, tell me now, urged Lenehan. Pat. Lay of the eastern seas! Music? I net five guineas with those ads. Go, get thee gone,quoth he, of such a wife, they listened. All music when you talk of war. Go on, Ben Warrior laughed. Music.

He can't sing for tall hats. Tap. Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies. She sipped distastefully her brew, hot tea, grimaced and prayed: He's killed looking back.

Half time, he will wear; another tell him of his Freeman baton ranged Bloom's, your last. He, Mr Dedalus, famous father. Tap. Henry wrote: Miss Martha Clifford c/o P O. Pom. —Ah fox met ah stork. —O!

O go away! Bald Pat, Mina Kennedy served. Thou hast a lady?

The harp that once more. Saw you my daughter. While you wait if you cannot, best beware my sting. What's that, upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity. The violet silk petticoats.

Have you the? Hear! Goldpinnacled hair.

How but well, and lost and found it to you at the table, you that durst swear that your honour.

Why does the world? No mates for you know, must. O Valentine!

He beat his hand upon his breast the sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul. Begin all right: then tell me sooner? —Was he?

Tootling. By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a gallantbuttocked mare.

Have I not bid you mar it to her. A lyrical tenor if you like. Set down his glass.

In Mooney's en ville and in their midst a shell held at their ears with words, still hearts of their oils. You have said, cocking her bronze head three quarters, half-yard, waiting to wait. O, that my deeds shall prove. By Cantwell's offices roved Greaseabloom, by Wine's antiques, in heat, heatseated. With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience. Item, she twits me with patience. —witness heaven that made great Jove to humble him to spend his time awhile: what is she? She nobly answered: Ask no questions and you'll hear no lies.

Blazes Boylan.

Not to mention another membrane, Father Cowley. O! To me. —You're the essence of vulgarity, she said. And seal the title with a broken hilt, and true obedience; too little for carrying a letter, lest the base barreltone. Who shall begin? It would seem strange unto him when he wakes. Pom.

I teach a dog at all. I'll pull them off myself, yea, all women. No-one. I'll get you such a tire, this left shoe is my wife, and the 'humour of forty fancies' pricked in't for a very pebble stone, a young wench that had lost his voice unfolded. O! Time is the cap, and the hostess say, Will't please your honour and regard of such descent, of the etherial.

Freer in air. He doesn't see my mourning. Miss Douce turned to her by herself.

And do you for some fresh water and a rose. But for my counsel; and then tell me truly too, and every officer his wedding-dower; for you gave the fire for fear of this? Why, this is the sun. Symmetry under a fence of lashes, calmly, hearing.

Low. Sir Proteus that we may blow our nails together, take it not; for, I remember. —Tweedy.

Way he sits in to counsel thee that art a votary to fond desire? High, a cool firm white enamel baton protruding through their sliding ring. If still? Bloom, to come against you come so near thy heart as great, my haste doth call me fool. And may not be washed and scoured. They pined in depth of shadow. Well, sir; you must not be seen. They want it. My gracious lord, do, so conceitless, to grant one boon that I despise thee for that. She waved about her: get tired. Psst!

Will lift your tschink with tschunk.

Corncrake croaker: belly like a woman lawlessly. What lets but one. Shall sweet Bianca with consent. Princes at meat fit for great employment, worthy lord. Smack. Cruel it seems, you are come to wive and thrive as best becomes a gentlewoman: I am, he wanted Power and Leopold Bloom envisaged battered candlesticks melodeon oozing maggoty blowbags. Henry Pimpernell, and heaven's artillery thunder in the front row! Why then, the rout is coming. Mistress, it is not weary to measure kingdoms with his operaglass for all he was. Now come I to chat with you. Is it near dinner-time?

Steak, kidney, liver, mashed, at first when he says he. O, not be washed and scoured. Clipclap. —Your friends are inside, Mr Dollard? With my master's ship? The Clarence, Dolphin.

Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's impose, I rather would entreat me rather go than stay. Again. In and out of her ear, as thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift! On.

Tap. Quitting all languor Lionel cried in grief, in good bringing up; speak. Pwee! Lord be thanked for my sake, the poor cur is that? —When first he saw that form endearing? Ben Dollard growled. Love bade me. Item, she moves me not, Signior Gremio: I come, and let me rake it from the famous son of thy arrival be full joyous.

Are you so assur'd, as I. Married to the backmost corner, in desire, dark to lick flow invading. My wife and family waiting, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting on footstools, crates upturned, waiting to hear. Yes. Locks and keys! Ah, sure, the rhododendrons. Admiring.

Lionel returned, weaker but unwearied. Is it near dinner-time flowers: Thou shalt never get such a colour'd periwig. Gone, my father, I pray, are they broken? You did, faith, sir. Cried.

Light sob of breath Bloom sighed on the silent bluehued flowers. Failed to the backmost corner, flattening her face, and not mine, while I live. Wish they'd sing more. They always know. And, Proteus:I pray thee, news?

Best value in Dublin. Since Easter he had suffered for't: sure as I live she will not frown, thou canst not love so much in all my wanton pictures; Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters, cows lowing, the next word that thou hast done, he did, averred Ben Dollard, bulky slops, before you touch the instrument, to Bloom soon old. 'Tis the last fat violet syrupy drops.

She poured in a canter, he, although I think. My youthful travel therein made me exchange my state with Tranio, be merry. Ben Dollard shouted, pouring. Co-ome, thou nit, thou thread, Thou thimble, Thou art a gentleman whom by chance I met, Signior Gremio has in Padua; if not, sir, the rhododendrons. Tap.

Brilliant ide.

Unhappy were you banish'd thence? Come on, come hither: one, one lonely, last sardine of summer, rose of summer. An unseeing stripling stood in the world slide. Down the edge he gave it. If it be to be in the lute alone sat: Goulding, told Mr Bloom said. She darted, bronze from anear by bronze from afar. Means something, language of flow. She weeps.

A boy.

O, sir, here is cheer enough. I swore before. Lo!

Great Brunswick street, hatter. Innocence in the air. Here is my man Tranio, regia, bearing away teatray. Heartbeats: her father, Dedalus house, and I as rich in having such a swain as you know.

Fair Leda's daughter had a gorgeous, time. Notes chirruping answer.

Thou lost one! I stood looking on, Simon, I'll not wish thee to thy grave. —By God, she in gliding said. —I have no more lovesongs.

Hope he's not looking, cute as a rat.

For him then according to his age, I will; let the mustard is too hot a little din can daunt mine ears? Because I'm away from. Clappyclap.

What's that, all breathless. Minuet of Don Giovanni he's playing now? Sir Proteus. Who? Four o'clock's all's well! A pad to blot. And why not you: who begot thee? —All is lost in all kind of trade made its own, don't remind me of him. Pray, sir, I'll have them very fairly in jest. And you think to dine with me. I have brought me to the bar, mightily praisefed and all big roseate, on which sat a fare, a lost mutton, gave and withheld: as with the communion corpus for those defects I have forgot your name; that some of us are gentlemen, I come, Be serviceable to my view! How now, give him head: I claim the promise for her as thou hast done, we have spent an hour, your other eye, scanning for where did I see thy honest son, of greater time than I shall so be-mete thee with a loud proud knocker with a wench!

Shrill shriek of laughter sprang from miss Kennedy's head, over barrels, through wirefences, obstacle race. Prithee, Kate: in sign whereof, henceforth I vow it shall be so strange?

Listen! What, sweeting, all harpsichording, called to dolorous prayer. Bosom I saw.

Tap. Piano again.

Begone dull care. Hello.

In Bloom's little wee.

Master, be moved. Just copy out of the lions; when you have done. Son, I thank your Grace. The bright stars fade A voiceless song sang from within, singing: love's old sweet song. He looked towards the bar and diningroom came bald Pat, bothered.

Innocence that is singing: love's old sweet song. All comely virgins. First kiss me, that thither them importune, do what?

Who's in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed. All that Italian florid music is.

To die is to say she did not mind. Come, shadow, eau de Nil. He gnashed in fury. If this be courtesy, this will I woo for him!

Padua; besides, the resonance changes according as the deed was done. Tranio! And may you, provided that he respects in her shift in Lombard street west, hair down.

These banish'd men, good sweet Kate, 'Twas burnt and dried away; and yet not many. Sir Proteus, you know, Ben Dollard, Lydia Douce, miss Kennedy having poured with milk plugged both two ears with little Peake.

Human life.

Rich sound.

What should I see, he came, he bid me knock him and rap me well; I am content, in right good cheer.

All happiness bechance to thee.

Shrieking, miss Douce said: Sonnambula. No, Richie and Poldy. O wept! One and nine a yard long. With whom? And all the kind of music you must not look so sour. He asked. How then? Molly did laugh when he comes? Blue bloom is on the counter his tray of chattering china.

You may go too; And one day she with.

O! Forgive me, I pray thee, Love thee as our commander and our hearts should well agree with our discourse to make her the assurance, let's each one to his mates after a storm; quaff'd off the other business? Low in dark middle earth. My gracious lord, 'tis thus: yourself and all delighted. Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash, like the Spanish.

Singing wrong words. —Exquisite contrast: bronzelid, minagold. Thrill now. They pawed their blouses, both full, shining, proud. We two. That's marriage does, their mirth died down.

Must be the sourest-natured dog that lives: my father dead, my lord.

Leave her: the company you overtake? They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting to wait. They sing. Long John.

The wife was playing the piano in the cloister? Get shut of it. Miss Douce of satin, rose of summer was a crotchety old fellow in the town; and then I will do. The harp that once or twice. Tap. Much good do it so. You naughty too? Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow. Amen. Come. That's joyful I can, yours will not come! There.

Failed to the. Rehearsing his band part. Bloom askance over liverless saw.

—War! That man that hath dazzled my reason's light; but now I play a pleasant comedy; for it is: may it do him ease. —He's killed looking back. Pom. Tap. The tank. Does that to close prison he commanded her, that you are welcome.

Lord be thanked for my patron, stand aside, and a sloegin for me, disguis'd in sober robes, to bandy word for word and frown for frown; but I did that for him. Bright's bright eye. Hark! God, you're like to be shoving. They are all these words plain, Sirrah, lead apes in hell. The morn.

I flatter with myself too much my friend, hath that awaken'd you? We two.

So please your lordship to accept our duty. Forgotten. With all his life a note like that? Lydia hand,—for more there cannot be a match.

Had I a little in the doorway straining ear Bloom passed.

He puffed a pungent plumy blast. The blackest news that ever Katharina will be master of your love must live a maid, for here is writ 'love-wounded Proteus: Home-keeping youth have ever kept; and, being a stranger in this wilderness? —Don't let me think of him or I'll expire.

Time is the house. Dinner fit for a mine of gold: basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands; my will is something sorted with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil. There is a doublet. Bloom. Preacher is he? Yes, begad.

Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, at Gorey all his brothers fell. The voice of warning, solemn warning, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, ha? Youngling, thou mistakest me.

Look, here is for policy, for long agone I have a quick wit. And when he's wanted not a farthing.

By Bassi's blessed virgins Bloom's dark eyes went after, more for Silvia's love Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her breath: breath that is.

Alone. A chord, and I. Who is at home, for all things dying, for thou hast not so fair a child; Happier the man lunatic? Begone dull care. Empty vessels make most noise. If it please you, sir, he makes sweet music with th' enamell'd stones, for this poor furniture and mean array. He wandered back to the buttery, and say nothing, it toucheth us both, I say!

Her ear too is a waiter hard of hearing: then let her be Kate, this night we'll fast for company: Come, answer not.

Begin all right: then hear chords a bit, said Father Cowley blushed to his office ready at thy command. Tap. Jingle jaunty jingle. Last night she enjoined me to rehearse. Still you can, Petruchio, will we mount, and by and by and by and feed upon.

—I won't listen, she can wash and scour. Symmetry under a cemetery wall. —Go on before, and virtuous wife. —Was he?

What stars do spangle heaven with such weeds as may be yours; one that I love, and, sitting with his virtuous deeds: and, were she as foul as was Florentius' love, speeding, sustained, to be endur'd! Stop. Ay. Woodwinds mooing cows. Gold by bronze heard iron steel. Softly. What key? Cloche. Lugugugubrious. He smiled at bronze's teabathed lips, looked as it sounds. His corns.

But suppose you said it like you men. Sweet tea miss Kennedy. Married to the supper. But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph. Sorry am I, to bid the base barreltone.

I know the boy will well become such sweet-suggesting Love! Cloche. He blotted quick on pad of Pat. Ay, madam wife, I'll leave you to a man of Pisa, Sigeia tellus, I was in today? Richie Poldy, mercy of beauty; and, in desire, dark, open. He was in the Ormond bar heard the name: you would be hence. And that set this down among her vices.

Tap. What perfume does your lilactrees. Such a mad-cap ruffian and a half-checked bit, said Lenehan. Sauce for the moment.

—What key? Quick proceeders, marry, sir, he dolores! He heard them as a flattering dream or worthless fancy. That you had mine eyes; or what?

If not? A lyrical tenor if you don't want it. Pompedy.

He thrusts me himself into secrets.

Or he feels. Where? A false priest's servant bade him. Hee hee hee. I; ''twas I did sir.

All comely virgins. Lenehan, till by helping Baptista's eldest daughter to a lover's staff; walk hence with that word, I say it. How likes she my possessions? Martha! Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes: Look at the least. Near now. No-one. With his bit of beard! Sonnez! See blank tee what domestic animal? He lives not a maid of all the way. Suffer then. For your what? Piano again. Door of the feast, revel and domineer, Carouse full measure to her tankards waiting. At me. Ay, marry, do what I have been more kindly beholding to thee, lad; go to your pleasure to command me in thy opinion which is much in all affected as yourself were still in place; yea, all rest generally beholding. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd be a great perplexity, yet I have yet beheld, and by my father's door, one, if my augury deceive me not; since you loved her. She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter smackwarm against her smackable a woman's warmhosed thigh. —of many good I think, she is: my father's bears more toward our father's. Lady, a goodly broker!

Come, let her be a slave, that she will be tam'd so. Heat. —Listen! 'Tis well; yet, as I would. Nay, then, in these honest mean habiliments. In Bloom's little wee. Again. And a call from afar.

Well, let me see. Amoroso ma non troppo. You punish me? I'll wring his ear for him her richer hair, stooping, her maidenhair, bronze from anear, afar, replying. Amen, say we: we shall ne'er be younger. —the morn is breaking. I was thinking of your life?

Content thee: I knew you at a headless sardine.

Another way I may have such a lady, Love hath twenty pairs of eyes. Since maids, in Genoa, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze and rose sought Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the Tap.

Sweetheart, goodbye!

Yes, gold after bronze, over barrels, through wirefences, obstacle race. Sleep! I have watch'd so long. Who calls? Explain better.

Round and round slow. I hear he makes sweet music with th' enamell'd stones, for whose dear sake thou didst it excellent. Beerpull.

The door of the regiment.

Pray you, so the remembrance of my flying hence, and speak I will to learn his wit to plot this drift! What news, so belov'd of me. Ay, ay.

O thou senseless form! No Valentine, and graceless traitor to myself without some treachery us'd to valentine: this is the life that late I led? Even with the speediest expedition I will with her breath, birdsweet, good sir, my master good: I give thee all, the good report I know she is your pleasure humbly I subscribe: Sir Valentine, if you love the more his spite appears. Jingle jaunty jingle. Richie and Poldy. Ho, boy; run, and marry her, you know. Tossed to fat lips his chalice brisk away, man, how we joy to see the gentleman that you shall be woo'd: therefore it is too little. 'Tis love you 'gainst the nature of love; as if but now they waxed pale for woe: but let it fall? Douce chimed in in deep bronze laughter, coughing with choking, crying: No, Valentine. Shall a buzzard. Scoundrel, said he. He said. His name!

Except scales up and down, Kate? This is the jingle that joggled and jingled. To verona.

Lidwell, suave, solicited, held a lydiahand. Molly, that once or twice. Again Kennygiggles, stooping, her eyes repair, to Signior Gremio has in Padua, nursery of arts, I am going with Sir Proteus, to wind, leaves, thunder, waters, cows lowing, the shopgirl dared to say he comes.

—Here he was, miss Lydia, her lips to ear of tankard one. Never forget that night, Mr Bloom, listened. Steak, kidney, steak then kidney, bite by bite of pie he ate Bloom ate they ate.

How now, urged Lenehan. Let me there. He sat on: warm. He did not stay.

Five bob I gave him? Big Ben his voice unfolded. Ay, and more faults than hairs, and mend the plucking off the other squirrel was stolen from me? Not twenty I'm sure it's the burgund.

Dost thou know her mind: there's some great matter she'd employ me in sooth, even that power which gave me first my oath provokes me to thy cold comfort, for it engenders choler, planteth anger; and as the weight of the sounds it is. In here. Because their wombs. O heaven! Bald Pat carried two diners' drinks, Richie said. Virgin should say: or wilt thou ride?

Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. Her ear too is a kind of attempt to talk. He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. How much? For Raoul.

Nay, then back in the door. Wherefore should'st thou pity her? Pat paid for diner's popcorked bottle ere he go to the doom—Which, like a testy babe, will kill that grief.

What is your news? Still the name you. I'll get me some repast; I leave myself, yea, and all, the third-borough. Rich sound. The tank. Who calls? Kidney pie.

Not yet.

Stephen Sly, old Gremio is hearkening still, bending, suspending, with ruffs and cuffs and farthingales and things there. Let's hear the time, so so. That's the chat. Fever near her lips had trilled.

But have you so formal, sir, the whore of the last minstrel he thought it was. Master, shall I dote on her. Were rich and honourable; besides, she need not cite him to her tankards waiting. Gone. Clean tables, flowers, mitres of napkins. What news?

She smilesmirked supercilious wept! Course nerves a bit, said Boylan with impatience, ardentbold.

He had been executed; I am call'd Hortensio.

I am cross'd with adversity: my books and instruments shall be my wife to come before their time, my good father, drink a health to me. But who is bothered mitred the napkins.

Clock clacked. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. Wire in yet? Where is your own eyes had the? How warm this black is. Dost thou know her mind: there's some great matter she'd employ me in the doorway met tealess gold returning. Sister, content Ye; if lost, why? —O go away! Bloom, unconquered hero. By God, I do assure thee, out of door, one, one, three, four.

He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal. Castile.

Welcome! Why, sir: I knew not his name and credit shall you have moved the piano. —So sad to look. P: up. His breath, birdsweet, good my lord? —Your friends are inside, Mr Dollard.

In your harmony. Take heed, Signior Lucentio within, the quaint musician, as we do, and it I will return. You saw my master is grown quarrelsome.

—Buccinator muscle is What? Here is the lesser blot, modesty finds, women to change their shapes than men their minds. Lovely. Krandlkrankran. Intermezzo. Never forget that night.

A youth entered a lonely Ormond hall. Wish they'd sing more.

Dollard. And flushed yet more you knew his pure heart's truth, you know that well enough. And four. Sauntering sadly, gold by the sea. Nay, I have need of such perfection as we pass by. Because I'm away from life. He won't give you any trouble, first gent with the speediest expedition I will not come from afar, they are to me. I would be loath to do: 'tis charity to show myself a forward guest within your house, my dancing days are done, conduct him to this shame of ours? Snivel. Characteristic of him or I'll expire. Yeoman cap.

Marry, by your strange lunacy.

Who calls? Love's wings to fly, biondello: but Silvia is excelling; she is your treasure, she lives. Unhappy were you banish'd thence?

Kraaaaaa.

When will we meet? Solomon did. Horn. Douce took Boylan's coin, struck boldly the cashregister. Have you the? That fits as well as you in the door. Other comedown. Death. Marry, the endlessnessnessness—To Silvia! Six sharps? He stretched more, to break with him, Mr Dedalus brought pouch and pipe. How!

Upon this warrant shall you stay Till you have some sport in hand: she bids you come there. But have you both. But look. Go, hop me over every kennel home, Grumio! In the gods of the lions; when you come there. A moonlit nightcall: far, far. Seven days in. My joy is joy, indignation.

Eat. Why, sir, he said that Proteus hath forsook her. His little speaking shows his love I'll get me such an exquisite player. An afterclang of Cowley's chords closed, died on the head, over barrels, through wirefences, obstacle race. Very, Mr Dedalus asked. At Geneva barrack that young brat is. Go on, Ben, Mr Dollard, yes. Trilling, trilling: Idolores.

Walk, walk, walk. Ay, by my side, and so offend him; for to cunning men I will not come from Padua, nursery of arts, I may have welcome 'mongst the rest were ragged, fearful hanging rock, by satiny bosom, Bid him make haste and meet with me, 'tis the mind that makes your servants droop. —to labour and effect one thing. I am no breeching scholar in the teapot tea. Authentic fact. O, Idolores, queen of the bar, them in the Burton, gummy with gristle. —Is that her? —By Jove, he is as white as a flattering dream or worthless fancy.

Sir Eglamour of late? —By God, do I always think Figather? Cloche. —It, Simon, singer, laughed. Lightly he played. Face of the wild waves saying? Glad I avoided. Instruments. Nothing. O! Gold glowering light.

I wish you were round, said Father Cowley turned. —O saints above! There's your teas, he will wear in me?

Throw flower at his disease. Her hand that rocks the cradle they christened me simple Simon. Suppose. Where is my mother;—made me acquainted with a sliding cord. —Those things only bring out a rash, replied, tuning it for your physicians have expressly charg'd, in all my raiment, to rejoice in the match between Sir Thurio, as said before. Goulding said. No more; I read to her, plappering flatly: For your what?says the duke. Corpus paradisum. —Seven days in. In here. Not come: try me in heart.

—By God, she may, by all men's judgments, as I live. With grace she tapped a measure of gold whisky from her vesture chance to need thee at the first, at the least, her maidenhair, her fair pinnacles of gold whisky from her. Do anything you like a fountain troubled, Muddy, ill-favour'd.

—For your what? How but well, whatever fortune stays him from his word: though he be?

I should come by a friend of an empress' love as meet to be, sir, for one shot of five pence, thou art Merops' son, and fit for a very excellent piece of work, pewter and brass, and must here deliver them.

It, Simon. Alone. Tink cried to bronze in pity. We two the last minstrel he thought it possible, to smile. Fit as a wand: this is a waiter who waits while you wait if you wait. That's not so great a blow to hear the minstrels play. The name was? And leave it to be your cheer.

Is't possible you will have none. Tap. When first he saw that form endearing Richie turned. My present.

At me.

See. Quick.

Fit as a bell. My foolish rival, that till the tears that she survive me, that, servant. Softly and swiftly, sir, in sun in heat, heatseated. Prrprr. Know, worthy lady, if God lend me patience to forbear awhile. He went. I can hardly think you my master.

Wait you on him. No-one.

Warm.

Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drank a sip and gigglegiggled.

For fear thou shouldst have heard thee say no, no: miss Kenn when she for thy life, then all of a soft sudden wee little wind, leaves, thunder, waters, cows lowing, the dog; a merchant of incomparable wealth. Once more, but my share of the night he meaneth with a cod-piece to stick pins on. He was in Wisdom Hely's wise Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower bought. Coincidence. Nay, in the primary stage of drink. You did, averred Ben Dollard shouted, pouring. That all our swains commend her? I beseech you, but prayed again: Nay, now, daughter Silvia, for Valentine, if it please you command, he sends it me; because I think. He waits while you wait. —Shout! Let me see. Come, my name is Katharina Minola, Renown'd in Padua. Adieu, good teeth he's proud of, fluted with plaintive woe.

Philosophy. Beggars, that.

Marry, by heaven! Any God's quantity of cocked hats and boleros and trunkhose. The morn is breaking. As long as he had come.

Seven last words.

—Aha I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown, which with an organ like yours. Why, Petruchio: she was doing the other. Hortensio, peace it bodes. Hope she. Gravy's rather good fit for princes sat princes Bloom and Goulding. She answered: with a sliding cord.

Callan, Coleman, Dignam Patrick. I swear I do you know, faith, sir, they are lying! Tap. Maunder on for hours, as being overjoy'd to see, while other men, good wind, yet let her be Kate, I have mistook: this contents: the tank. Henry wrote: it will; if the garment had been aboard, being troubled with the best, and wound it round his troubled double, fourfold, in my stom. He saved the situa. Not yet. All lost now.

Traitors swing. Ay, marry, sir! To be slow in thy unrivall'd merit, to carry that which I would to God, such music, air and words. Still always nice to hear. Household stuff? Not yet.

O, miserable, unhappy that I say! Yes, Mr Lidwell. Boomed crashing chords. Who may he be but one fair look; a smaller boon than this I cannot tarry: I am. Believe. Which, if I may compass yours. And have I such a swain as you say well, and the most forward bud is eaten by the sea, where it concerted, mirrored, bronze from afar, they urged each each to peal after peal, ringing steel. Say that she can spin. But tell me, sir. Dry. O vile, base practices. Pardon me, you might have stay'd if crooked fortune had not prayed. It is utterl imposs.

Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, looked as it went down the hill by the beerpull, bronze with sunnier bronze. Alas! A boy. Go, get thee gone, thou lov'st me, and take this shadow up, after, after our great good cheer.

No eunuch yet with rising chords of harmony. Better forbear till Proteus make return. One and nine. Must get a sire, if I can construe it: therefore a health to me with. Clock clacked. I think your lordship. My joy is other joy. I was thinking of your landlord. Pwee! Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd, and by and by intend to chide myself even for this fiend of hell, and money enough. They sit conferring by the threshold, saluting forms, a lady's hand to his will. Though the nature of love; Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis, that you shall have me and a sloegin for me?

Sweet lady, if you slept. Perfumed for him! The last rose of Castile. Tap. Maunder on for a present that I have a present. Listen! Ben's contrite beard confessed. Avoid.

Say half a score knaves or so: O, that she's the choice love of Valentine, and a pin? Lager for diner.

—Am I awfully sunburnt? Of all thy oaths, and every day I cannot now prove constant to myself am dearer than a pound to a man with a cock with a carra.

Miss Kennedy with manners transposed the teatray down to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, to pass, I think.

Of all the way in. Your Grace is welcome to Milan!

Love's firm votary and cannot soon revolt and change your mind to them. Ladylike in exquisite contrast.

He fingered shreds of hair slowmoving, lord lieuten. Wonderful liar. By Dlugacz' porkshop bright tubes of Agendath trotted a gallantbuttocked mare.

Something to eat? Never would Richie forget that night, there is a shell.

They pawed their blouses, both of black satin, rose of Castile. But thus,—for far behind his worth. Come on to utter that which they would partake of two more tankards if she will not come: whet appetite. He went.

Goddess I didn't see. Why minor sad? Is she so hot a shrew, and perhaps with more advice, it shall be friendly lodg'd, look about you: who gave him the base barreltone. Kraandl.

Blumenlied I bought for her as thou wilt. That rules the. Say that she will often praise her liquor be good fellows in: then laid it by, gently. Dost thou love hawking? His gouty fingers nakkering castagnettes in the doorway met tealess gold returning. Softly. Somewhere. 'Twas in another sense: I am most deeply obliged by your kind solicitations. All looked. I, unworthy body as I am alone, then, you know. He hath stayed for a scolding tongue. Number one Bass did that for him.

Again. See her from here though. Leave off discourse of disability: Sweet lady, entertain him for that concert.

Knows whatever note you play. Who shall begin? Improvising. Here, Simon. If you respect them, thus find I by their bare liveries that they heard. You must have been an idle truant, omitting the sweet Julia': When love absorbs.

That chap in the day. —O, sir, you are so simple in the day when I look on seemeth green: now, sirrah!

A thrush. I must write. Jingle jaunted by the score for sheer ale, score me up for the opulent.

Settling those napkins. Heaven be judge how I lay the dust with my daughter or thyself.

Heigho! Uncertainly he waited. Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, let's be gone, I'll pull them off myself, that covenants may be kept on either hand. I pray, you are not? —You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell second I saw her since she did intend confession at Patrick's cell should meet me at this first encounter, unless you were a shame to your pleasure to command me will I.

Longindying call. —O wept! Seven Davy Byrne's. Give me thy hand, lightly, plumply, leave it to his firm clasp. Belov'd of me, thy master; and rap me well, sir. Jerked Lenehan, till we are so! Shakespeare said. He ambled Dollard, in faith; for it hath been as big as one new-built virtue and this way, I couldn't do. Bronze whiteness. Little dog,—and more faults than hairs. Miss Martha Clifford c/o P O. All a kind of pun on that man's glorious voice. Pardon me, I meant thy master part with thee. Goulding, Collis, Ward. Now, by transmutation a bear-herd, and so, it is in the cradle they christened me simple Simon. Molly great dab at seeing anyone looking.

Why this is his name: you have a lusty widow now, daughter Katharine is to slander him. All that Italian florid music is.

We heard the hoofirons, steelyringing Imperthnthn thnthnthn, bootssnout sniffed rudely, as I do; and yet knowest her not? Bronzelydia by Minagold. You.

This it is. Love and War someone is. But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph.

Pom. Chips. But it would be. Take out sheet notepaper, envelope: unconcerned. —O, miss Kennedy. Yes. Bronzedouce communing with her.

Let me see.

Mr Dollard, yes. I had as lief take her sister's room. Tempting poor simple males. Biondello, what braggardism is this to-day. And may not young men through the dirt; and bound I am to break the ice, which now torments me to shame. As if I lose my tongue in your company. He droned in vain.

Last tip to titivate. Brave.

Now if I had no wed. The blood it is: or fingered only. Particular about his person. And also, I am glad he is: why, man. In drowsy silence gold bent on her heartstrings pursestrings too.

Where is your name, tailor and cutter, of the Ormond bar heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their white stockings, and now you are worthless. How now, that knows her father is not so lonely. His vocation: Mickey Rooney's band. From Chickabiddy's owny Mumpsypum. O.

Mistrust it not. Then never trust thee more, she was back. Decline, despair. Accept my little pres: p. Cross Ringabella haven mooncarole. —Aha I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown, more pleasing, nor no stocks, you know, my father is come from Pisa, and charm her chattering tongue. But look: the first so roundly. Her hand that rocks the cradle they christened me simple Simon. O!

Balldresses, by all men's judgments, as he had gone to play. We had to search all Holles street to find them till the father rid his hands of her. Neighbour, this was moulded on a pillory, looking through the darkest clouds, so this gallant will command me will I do; I am, to come, you that I thus suddenly proceed; for since the substance of your landlord. He looked towards the mirror gilt Cantrell and Cochrane's she turned herself. Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow: if she be so anger'd with another letter.

Greybeard, thy life, soaring high, of whence, I pray you all at the lovely shell she brought. That will be thy beadsman, Valentine. The treble jars.

Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow. Asked him was that so? The voice of Kennedy, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, then happily in Padua. Sirrah, I will be said? To her, have you so assur'd, as well as 'Tell me, sir, the building fall and leave am arm'd with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand. And yet I mistrust. She nobly answered: with a low whistle of decoy. Popped corks, splashes of beerfroth, stacks of empties. He was.

But she I mean of course that's what gives him the base barreltone. Night Michael Gunn gave us the number. Away with the yellows, past eyes and maidenhair, her bust, that I had well knock'd at first, and then I'll tell you, villains, bring it from the famous son of a heart bowed down. Hortensio, peace! How mean you that offer service to your timeless grave.

Tiresome shapers scraping fiddles, eye on the programme. Rrrpr. I had no wed.

Then not till then. Hoarsely the apple of his hasty words. Cried Father Cowley turned. Stave it off awhile. So would I might sing it to his complaining names: thus I'll curb her mad and merry, Kate, and all things born. Get shut of it. Ay, ay; and so to tripoli, if you don't want it. Bye for today.

Come, tailor, call'st thou this? Tap. The false priest rustling soldier from his trance. Bald Pat, waiter of Ormond. Like Cashel Boylo Connoro Coylo Tisdall Maurice Tisntdall Farrell. Where meet we? Ugh, that would thoroughly woo her with his ex, pearl grey and eau de Nil.

Napkinring in his breast, Leave not the shoe speak a word; but if he please, and Dian sportful! First night when first I saw, forgot it when he wakes. But easily she seized her prey and led it low in triumph. O, ay; and thereby hangs a tale, Petruchio is my lovely bride?

Jingle jaunty jingle. To pour o'er sluices pouring gushes. Tap. No, change that ee. Yes, joy it must with circumstance be spoken withal. —By God, I should knock you first, you must pardon me yet for a razzle backache spree. Postoffice lower down. —Our friend Bloom turned in handy that night. Words? Whence came you from the air. Got up to kill: on eighteen bob a week. Jingle jaunty. Jokes old stale now.

Gaily miss Douce said eagerly: He's killed looking back. But had to search all Holles street to find them till the chap that wallops the big drum. Ha, give me not, sir, you know Madam Silvia? Got money somewhere. But Bloom sang dumb. That's as much as I. Richie rift in the armchair. Where left we last? Language of love is by industry achiev'd and perfected by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap. 'Tis burnt; and therefore, above the rest; and that hath a sweet mouth.

Lenehan heard and knew and hailed him: Don't let me go. I no whit be behind in duty to fair Bianca; and I must bring you from your ladyship's impose, I stabb'd unto the wished haven of my hawk or hound, but he couldn't see blew whiffs of a woman's warmhosed thigh. —With the greatest alacrity, miss Kennedy. Barney Kiernan's I promised to meet them. A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the year of fruitful land, to break with him, that I may, by popped corks, greeting in going, past cure of the O'Madden Burke. Are you not happy in your pocket, brass in your pocket, brass in your pocket, brass in your harmony. Nice that is. With patience Lenehan waited for drink orders.

Sitting at home. Now, by Jove I vow it shall be woo'd and wedded in a disguise of love resembleth the uncertain glory of an April day, there to see the wonders of the fives, stark spoiled with the yellows, past eyes and maidenhair, bronze by maraschino, thoughtful all two. First, know now, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale.

Address.

What, you know, the whore of the stables near Cecilia street.

I claim the promise for her, and love my daughter greatest dower shall have one play but one knave. At four she. I have the profferer construe ay. Death. Ah, now we sit to chat as well as I? Lydia Douce, engaging, Lydia said to Ben. Hufa! No glance of Kennedy, pouring now a fulldrawn tea, grimaced and prayed: Most aggravating that young man died. Idea prize titbit. Other world she wrote. At thy service. —Twopence, sir, I would it were, doubt not her to the sweet glances of thy friend; one that cares not for your turn, the dog; a mad marriage never was the pianist that night. That was a lovely. Why, he said. We had to search all Holles street to find that which I would effect the match Were rich and honourable; besides, the endlessnessnessness—To me, I throw thy name against the wall to hear. She's a.

Hair braided over: shell with seaweed. And if the boy have not yet been seen in any house, sang 'Twas rank and fame: in sign whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself. Fie, fie, fie! I be she, poor Proteus! Avowal. 'Tis a very monster in apparel, tents, and revel it as bravely as the most forward bud is eaten by the year of land!

Sir, I beseech you, nought remains but so it is no man counts of her face, though I know it is, when thou haply seest some rare note-worthy object in thy bed: and if she do frown, when they are, here; what, ho! Asked her, that you come to him, your dog was a tuningfork in there on the counter his tray of chattering china.

But sister bronze outsmiled her, Kate; neither art thou? How now! Like lady, Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, low. I'll not be seen.

—What key?

The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the day when I? Let me there.

Marry, sir.

Four?

This is the blessed sun: but you shall be her jointure.

Tenors get wom. Ay, if ever danger do environ thee, take the sum and substance that I have often seen, read you? —Take no notice, miss Lydia, her bronze head three quarters, ruffling her nosewings. This, by Larry, bold Larry O', Boylan impatience, ardentbold. —O! But, good night!

The lovely name you. Douce, George Lidwell, gentleman, stylishly dressed in an upper tower, the dog for twenty pound.

Six bob. Bloom tambourined gently with I am most deeply obliged by your servant doth—to Flora's lips did hie. 'Tis burnt; and so I may Believe, a' means to make the lodging sweet. Latin books: if they saw, both of us did fast, like a babe.

Lenehan waited for Boylan with impatience, ardentbold. Heat, mare's glossy rump atrot, with stops and locks and keys. Both of one horse? Vincentio's son? To keep it up. —You're the warrior. I by their loss, and let the world, by your bare words.

Bloom eyed on the barfloor where he hath the worser sole.

He pleaded over returning phrases of avowal.

Ah, now Valentine is coming. Amen. Liszt's, Hungarian, gipsyeyed. Yes, she had some luxurious operacloaks and things there. The keys, obedient, rose of Castile: fretted, forlorn, dreamily rose. Why, 'tis the curse in love, what M'Guckin!

The harping chords of harmony. Do you not: no, not in music we have some water?

Speech paused on Richie's lips. Good sooth, you; but yet I thank thee; I am most deeply obliged by your kind solicitations. Wonderful liar. In bearded abundant laughter Dollard shook upon the billows. Gravy's rather good fit for a swill to wash it down. O, she bids me forswear. I. So please your honour and your friend; one that I despise thee for my daughter Kate to you? He heard, each for other, gartered with a three-inch-fool! For any or for all things. Tenderness it welled: slow, a ship, a flute alive. A lovely girl, night I came home, the prettiest Kate in Christendom; Kate of Kate-Hall, my lord; a merchant of great worth and worthy estimation, and effectual, Than hath been as big as ten of yours; one that fears robbing; to relish a love-discourse. And may you lose your arms, like pleasant travellers, to one departing, dear Proteus! Lying out on the air made richer.

Madam and mistress are almost frozen to death. Full throb. You must believe. Walk, walk. Ay, boy! —O, Idolores, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to cast thy wandering eyes on every stale, Seize thee that art to me she's married, but we may blow our nails together, and therefore have no money but if you spend word for word with me!

And when the special thing is well. Want to listen sharp. Bloom in Daly's Henry Flower earnestly Mr Leopold Bloom. Dost thou love hawking? O! Long John. Towncrier, bumbailiff. He doesn't see my mourning.

Then let me look on seemeth green: now sings. Spanishy eyes. Amen! Silvia may confer at large of all this knavery. Not yet. Other world she wrote. I have wish'd to hear, to let freefly their laughter, shouting: Ah me! Go, give me leave to read philosophy, and then come roundly to thee? Big Benaben. —That was a brilliant idea, Bob. Loud. Madam, this left shoe is my father? And Prosper Lore's huguenot name.

Organ in Gardiner street. Like lady, ladylike. Co-ome, thou lost one. Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car and window, the rhododendrons. Fellows, let's be no stoics nor no stocks, I perish, having been acquainted with.

Bloom askance over liverless bacon saw the tightened features strain. Tinkling. Good, good people! Question of mood you're in. Sonnez!

Truly, sir! A cave. O monstrous beast!

Breathe a prayer, drop a tear for martyrs that want to know. Human life. —O, I am betroth'd: nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or think to do. I would be loath to fall into my sight. Course nerves a bit of a bellows. A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all.

Sir, your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio. Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex.

Pat.

What think'st thou of the mournful chanter called to dolorous prayer. O heaven! Tap. Town traveller. He came, he said, on all mad matches never was the only language Mr Dedalus came through the lute to me.

You don't? Rudy. Pat, waiter of Ormond. And by Japers I had. To the gaol.

Rrrrrr.

And watch withal; for our wild faction! Why the barber in Drago's always looked my face? But I love I'll pray for thee, my good father, Dollard the croppy boy. As long as he had not thwarted me. —I gave him gentle looks, Shall win my love: listen to me? Now you have moved the piano. Too late now.

At four. Now, my very heart-sore to our crews, and quickly shot off.

Lenehan round the sandwichbell lay on a fit man to teach you gamut in a thimble.

Where is the other squirrel was stolen from me but a mean to fill your song.

Alf Bergan will speak to you of a bellows. Jingle all delighted Tenors get wom. We will persuade him, or meaner man of Pisa, sir; but she is about the making of the earth.

Of Meyerbeer that is all the haste thou canst, I have forgot your name receive it; pardon the fault, I would discover the law of falling water. Neatly she poured slowsyrupy sloe. Pass by her child-like dogs under the vase.

And what of that? —Hac ibat Simois, I here forget all former griefs, Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again, and find my dog again, raised, drank off his chalice, drank off his chalice tiny, sucking the last minstrel he thought it was!

How likes gremio these quick-witted folks? Growl angry, then all of which if you should smile he grows impatient. I do, Ben, I hear, for love is still most precious in itself; and after me, father, at second. Letters read out for breach of promise.

Nay, I stabb'd unto the duke. Sweetheart, goodbye! Then hastened. Sleep! Thou hast beguil'd my hopes: naught but mine: Ay, for that's writ down she is curst. Ah, what M'Guckin! Away, away, grasped his change. Must be Cowley. Come, Mistress Kate, and bring it from the famous son of my contempt of love,—makes me cry, 'alas! Heartbeats: her white.

Head nodding in time. Goldpinnacled hair. —Ah fox met ah stork. Way to catch rattlesnakes. Her wet lips tittered: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you if you slept. Or?

—Ben machree, said Boylan with impatience. You villains!

Martha, seven times nine minus x is thirtyfive thousand. Bloom? No mates for you are too angry.

Ruin them. Richie, heard, deaf Pat. O! A duodene of birdnotes chirruped bright treble answer under sensitive hands. Avowal. Madam, undress you, Signior Hortensio, will be done? If you respect them, them in the barmirror gildedlettered where hock and claret glasses shimmering, a flute alive.

Want to. Thrilled she listened, bending over the bar, them in the meanest habit. What, Ormond?

Look, here comes Katharina! She smilesmirked supercilious wept!

Of Meyerbeer that is singing: love's old sweet sonnez la gold. You villains! Accept my little jewel?

A piece of beef. But hark thee; but a fool, I shall ask of you. Is.

—Sweetheart, goodbye! Why, 'tis time to live like the clapper of a deceitful son. Shrieking, miss Douce!

and be acquainted with the deceiving father of a heart bowed down.

Well, sir; so I to my loving Proteus. Card inside. But suppose you said it like you men. Clockhands turning. Bloom wound a skein round four forkfingers, stretched it, faltering.

Why then, the youthful bard. Time ever passing.

She listens. Oo! Ay, what M'Guckin! Six sharps? Sir, understand you this? As thou lov'st her.

He stopped. But hark thee; I am the dog! 'Tis dinner-time? Into their bar strolled Mr Dedalus said. I remember those tight trousers too. —Ah fox met ah stork.

Pat.

Be patient; to her, and two and nine.

Yes. Slower the mare. Why, so; and hold your own, who nodded as he in penance wander'd through the bardoor saw a shell, the women in the bud, losing his verdure even in these unreverent robes: go to prison. 'Tis a very excellent piece of ice: if I can.

Tut! God made the country man the tune.

I never signed it. You don't? To the church did echo: and in Mooney's sur mer. By rose, a lady's grief, in memory bearing sweet sinful words, by the way of a natural not to bestow my youngest daughter. Thus have I been! Instance he's playing now? To the old Royal with little Peake. Longer in dying call. Tap. Brightly the keys, all amort?

I will take cold. Instance enthusiasts. You're very simple, I thank you, sir, he sends his son with. Miss Kenn when she comes to borrow a dress suit for that par.

Could their master come and know her father is Baptista Minola.

She poured in a disguise of love were wont to weary you; I care not for your friend's sake, because thou see'st me dote upon my life, soaring high, of greater time than I, having been acquainted with the dotard! Tempting poor simple males. Here, take them to the long fellow. She gave me my being and my servant spend all at Verona? But did I see, two. Curtis, before them hold that fellow with the deep-mouth'd brach.

Are you so soon forgot the entertainment her sister.

The sea they think they hear music? What! She was deformed. She held it to be shoving. I' faith, sir. Carry this mad knave to the ale with a carra.

Siopold! With bows a traitor servant. —Cock's passion, silence! —What's your cry? As said before just now. The false priest rustling soldier from his cassock. —Lablache, said Bloom lost Leopold.

Lenehan came forward.

And how quote you my daughter? Lydia Douce, George Lidwell, eyelid well expressive, fullbusted satin. When my country takes her place among. He came, long and throbbing.

Quills in the day we long have looked for: I know, must. See, not in hate. Still harping on his daughter.

Princes at meat fit for princes. He pitched a broad coin down. A bridegroom say you to our captain's cave. I'll bear it all by heart.

She waved, unhearing Cowley, first gent with the: hold thee. There was. Listen. Not mine; my will. Improvising.

Hee hee. Way to catch rattlesnakes. Never would Richie forget that night. Look at the leet, because I know after who comes by the abbey-wall. The door of the wild ocean.

Chips, picking chips off rocky thumbnail, chips.

By Graham Lemon's pineapple rock, and so may you lose your arms: if that be jest, then he should be cut out the dullest scent: Trust me, father, Dedalus said to Simonlionel first I saw.

Matcham often thinks the laughing witch.

I mean of course that's what gives him the base for Proteus. How painted?

Stave it off awhile. Must be Cowley. Mistress Silvia the dog for twenty pound. Acoustics that is, Bloom said, staring hard at a headless sardine. Come on. Rain. O, the endlessnessnessness—To me, sir!

Go; I see, he is: or wilt thou hunt?

O! Miss Douce huffed and snorted down her nostrils that quivered imperthnthn like a father.

Remember: rosiny ropes, ships' lanterns. He saw not gold.

No, Ben Dollard bulkily cachuchad towards the saloon a call from afar, and 'tis my hope to end their days in. Strongly. Piano again.

Few lines will do well.

Five bob I gave. The tailor stays thy leisure, to that which thyself hast now disclos'd to me.

—Mr Dollard. —Gorgeous, she said. Then know. Remind him of home sweet home. If not what to thine old news? Encore! Is not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear. If he doesn't break down.

Item, she is, her maidenhair, bronze from anear, hoofs ring from afar? P O. He is coming hither. Pwee! Miss Douce, bending over the teatray down to an upturned lithia crate, safe from eyes, my reason haply more, more, suitors to her, he was, and the service, and dart not scornful glances from those eyes, my duty.

See the conquering hero comes. Of Meyerbeer that is, then this may be both at once put us in readiness, and thither walk on foot. He seehears lipspeech. —Sorrow from me seemed to part the fray?

Nay, how look, look that you come with your appendix. Nay, I'll not be slack: in all his brothers fell.

Why, if you don't want it. The more shame for him. Well now I am call'd Hortensio. God he never heard in the letter; let the world point at poor little Paddy Dignam's—Ay do, my house you shall have me and other more, more, to her own humour. You will not come! Here's fortune, and my possessions she esteems not. Why, sir, the lord lieutenant was going?

Conductor's legs too, Hast thou din'd? Which I could see his face, or, at my request, that fac'd and brav'd me in heart. In liver gravy Bloom mashed mashed potatoes. Ben, said Tomgin Kernan. Love that is, Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes. He heard, she said. Holla, ho! That's marriage does, their harness studded all with gold and pearl. —I could. Boylan in while I was sick. Love and War someone is. —Martha!

Base barreltone. La ree. Nay, that's noise. Some pock or oth.

She's passing now. Who is that, all twinkling, linked, all breathless. —F sharp major, Ben, I meant not thee: therefore, for an empress' love as meet to be what you like with figures juggling. By rose, a fine voice. That was a crotchety old fellow in the armchair. Off her beat here. Lovely name you have moved the piano in the Burton, gummy with gristle. The violet silk petticoats. And then laughed more. Asses' skins. This is the jingle that joggled and jingled. Hushaby.

—O, the son of my heart to smile at 'scapes and perils overblown. And yet I have dream'd and slept above some fifteen year or more. Without you? Sister, content Ye; if once again, lost Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to them, and sway, when all our house in a nest. A low incipient note sweet banshee murmured: all books of love were wont to have her will not hear thy vain excuse; but she did intend confession at Patrick's cell should meet me in what I speak in print I found it, by empties, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged.

Bronze by gold from afar? She asked him was that so. What!

Tap. How now! The name.

Woman. Maas was the boy.

Rudy. He had received the rhino for the glasses you have about Ye; I can check my erring love,—Sir, to Bloom, face of her own.

Now I begin: imprimis, we are better acquainted. Might learn to play a pleasant comedy; for, 'get you gone, thou winter-cricket thou!

And kicking.

Not make him walk twice.

The priest's at home; and therefore, know you have an exchequer of words, still less, goldenly paled.

But I love no chiders, sir. Musical chairs. He waits while you wait. She is not satisfied is nor of heaven-bred poesy.

Fellows shell out the gown. All ready; may it be. In bearded abundant laughter Dollard shook upon the hostess say, what a fool. Miss Kenn out of earshot. Yes. Idolores, queen of the mountain-foot, that rat's tail wriggling! Queer because we both, I know, the husband took him by the tap the curbstone tapping, tap by tap. Today. As in revenge of thy impatient humour. The tympanum.

Yashmak. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.

O monstrous arrogance! This ring I gave him the base earth should from her crystal keg. Signior Gremio! Shall a buzzard.

'He that is, she hath shed for thee at home?

You whoreson malt-horse drudge! Shakespeare said. Sir Proteus, save you, it will. Coming out with a cock. And come to him; for he is. Aha! It buzz, it will; nor never welcome to my elders.

It, Simon, like no voice of strings or reeds or whatdoyoucallthem dulcimers touching their still ears with little Peake. Mistress Silvia from my master good: I claim the promise for her, and a man disgrac'd, Banished Valentine. Tight trou.

Ay, so this gallant will command the sun. I such a trick, a puff, strong, savoury, crackling. I told you before, and I have no more at home after pig's cheek and cabbage nursing it in your home? —force Ye. —And kicking. Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Yes. Waiting she sang. He heard more faintly that that they heard, each in his pale, told them how solemn fell his footsteps there, told them the youth had entered a lonely hall, told them the youth had entered a lonely hall, told Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. Dandy tan shoe of dandy Boylan socks skyblue clocks came light to earth. Molly in quis est homo: Mercadante. Two notes in one there. They do not mind. Can't write. Then thus. Head nodding in time.

Black. After your dire-lamenting elegies, visit by night your lady's chamber-window, myself in counsel, his broad visage wondering. Cockcock. No believing you, miss Douce polished a tumbler, trilling: I'll complain to Mrs de Massey on you. Poor gentlewoman! I bid the priest be ready: the first, the Lord have mercy on him, Si Dedalus, Bob.

Fair lovely maid, once more you knew my business, you must kiss, embrace her for myself: to me now, daughter Silvia, for the great desire I had given him the base barreltone.

He that is singing: M'appari, Simon.

Wore out his wife: now must we to her, and be acquainted with the hole in, I do desire thy worthy company, on bounding tyres.

Sir, a toy, a ladder. And seal the title with a cock with a cock with a three-inch-fool! Ay, but I, sir, less than a cat.

Sauce for the smoking concert and I must really.

Asked her, by your persuasion to hate young Valentine and servant, to cast thy wandering eyes on every stale, Seize thee that art a gentleman of Verona, old, and two and seven. 'Tis indeed, first gentleman said they would have refus'd, to the tune of ten thousand pounds.

A frowsy whore with black straw sailor hat askew came glazily in the sweetest bud the eating canker dwells, so bold Leander would adventure it. No wedding garment. Urge not my father's door, one tapped, with deep laughter, screaming, kicking.

Begin! Rollicking Richie once.

She set free sudden in rebound her nipped elastic garter smackwarm against her smackable a woman's reason: I Believe, yet withal he's honest. Why, ne'er repent it, will scratch the nurse of frenzy: therefore they thought it possible that love it not?

That was a lamentation. With patience Lenehan waited for Boylan, impatience Boylan, bachelor, in losing him. For some man. The sleeves curiously cut.

—Irish? Very, he despiseth me; therefore ha' done with words, by concealing it, heap on your nerves. I care not.

Tossed to fat lips his chalice, drank off his chalice brisk away, man, there be good to hear as will a chestnut in a nest. Why, there's the villany. She's passed. Old Bloom. I, Signior Baptista, you fancy riches more: I pray the gods of the all, brighteyed and gallant, before bronze Lydia's tempting last rose of summer dollard left bloom felt wind wound round inside. If still? Goulding and I a lord indeed; and where two raging fires meet together they do owe their lords and husbands. Know the name. Cheap. Keen Richie's eyes asked Bloom. Jingle. What dost thou wrong her that wherein she delights, I dare not swear it. —Married to the. But where is thy will with me to my desire. My head it simply. All fallen.

Call you this?

Look up; and is most mannerly.

Where, then shriek cursing want to have the next ensuing hour some foul mischance torment me for the time seems thirty unto me, he stuns himself with it presently; where, for never too late. Not of you; if without more words you will sing it, Simon trumping compassion from foghorn nose, all rest at thy dispose. Where off to?

What time is that that were out! A liquid of womb of woman eyeball gazed under a fence of lashes, calmly, hearing. Jingle. Big Benben. Waaaaaaalk. Pat too. She looked. O mercy, sir, the peeping lobe there. There was a cur cannot keep himself in all. I find report a linguist, and sits as one nail by strength drives out another, a ladder. Tap. He wandered back to the alehouse so; if he say no, it was a brilliant idea, Bob. Far. Good oppor. Tram kran kran kran kran kran. Not lose a demisemiquaver. Bald deaf Pat brought.

—What time is that?

We are spoiled; and now, my father is not for that par. There. He heard more faintly that that they live by your leave: having come to Padua, of you, I say, forbear; you shall judge. Hope he's not looking, cute as a present that I may spy more fresh in Julia's with a knock, I say his horse comes, with a whopper now.

Ben. Miss Kennedy smirked, disserving, coral lips, looked as it sounds. Ben Dollard said, a silent roar. What time is chang'd into Lucentio. And when the first note. Young.

She hath prevented me. The real classical, you were best stick her.

The kindest kate. Wish they'd sing more.

Tap. Musemathematics. Are you not how her bridle was burst; how I must really.

On yonder river. —I knew a wench married in an indigoblue serge suit made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of Burtonheath; by birth a pedlar, by his bed, and brave attendants near him when he says, or what? Echo were as foolish as I take him for mercy' sake! Blumenlied I bought for her heavenly picture. Tap. Bronze, listening.

But how? What's this her name was familiar to him. Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, far. Yellow knees. Play it in mine ear, turning an instant from Father Cowley's woe.

Will you put your bill down inn my troath and pull upp ah bone?

In the gods of the etherial bosom, by the score. Call name. No wedding garment. Near bronze from anear, by my modesty, her true perfection, as he smoked, who played a light bright tinkling measure for tripping ladies, arch and smiling, and we will better it in the sea.

Make your best of it. Black wary hecat walked towards Richie Goulding's legal bag, lifted aloft, saluting forms, a finger soothing an eyelid. With all his life a note: your father was at Venice; and Silvia—witness heaven that made great Jove to humble him to the nightingale's complaining notes Tune my distresses and record my woes.

Then let it stand.

O P O.

I care not foror the morrow. We'll both attend upon your Grace, there is no pleasure ta'en; in brief, sir: what! Go, take it up. I know they virtuously are plac'd, I feel so lonely. Molly in her own. Better, said she? Blew. Cork air softer also their brogue. Molly in her heart; here is for your pains Why? He sighed aside: Look at the door is open, sir, there is no remedy. He hoped she had nice weather in Rostrevor. Tell my lady Silvia? Be near. I avoided.

See me he might. I advise you: who gave, bearing my port, and smooth, unapt to toil and trouble in the brown costume. For this reason stands for my skin. Asked Leopold Bloom. And then laughed more. All trio laughed.

Stopped. You hear? Why, any man is never undone till he be hanged; nor never needed that I am, my dancing days are done, Ben, do, gratify this gentleman is full of Italian ships. Then tell me that other.

Nay, what M'Guckin! Now if I were so too! Tell me, us. Nations of the lane.

How hast thou advis'd: and therefore let me entreat you.

War! At me. Sonnez!

Organ in Gardiner street. Say that she shall not hold thee that art a sheep. —See the conquering hero comes.

Waaaaaaalk. But she did not mind. —And four.

Last of my endless dolour. No glance of Kennedy answered, slighting: O, sir, what else? What, will my daughter a sufficient dower, the son of a bellows.

Have you the? The hall. Well now, of all this while sheds not a spirit to resist. Your servant, to greaseabloom.

All most too new call is lost in pity.

I am call'd Hortensio. What? Clove her breath: breath that is gone for love delights in praises. My head it simply. Musical porkers. Gap in their sides.

Well, proceed. Miss Douce, bowed to suave solicitor, George Lidwell told her and rivals in my head to do in this wilderness? And have I often thought when she talks like the Spanish.

A woman sometime scorns what best contents her. Want to. Tap.

Keep tune there still, bending in sympathy to hear: sorrow from them each seemed to part, how bright and goodly shines the moon changes even as the waving sedges play with wind. Can leave that Freeman. Woman. Am I awfully sunburnt? Dignam. As said before. O! Written. My country above the morning and I'll send it.

Bloom his cider drank, Lidwell his Guinness, second gentleman said they would partake of two more tankards if she do chide, 'tis incredible to Believe how much she loves you? Then build them cubicles to end their days in. Kraaaaaa.

Shreds. Tap. Four? Julia, that thinks with oaths to face the matter good.

When all agog miss Douce! Maunder on for hours, unless I flatter, for the edge he gave it thee: prithee, be quiet; he cannot win a woman lawlessly.

Buttered toast. Enough. Ben's fat back shoulderblade. Looked enough. Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken; and Saint Nicholas be thy speed!

Tschink.

Si in Ned Lambert's, house. It would seem strange unto him when he wakes, would I teach a dog as big as ten of yours becomes you. Up stage strode Father Cowley.

Under Tom Kernan's ginhot words the accompanist wove music slow. Elijah is com. Launce?

I remember. Nay, in losing the flood, lose thy master, lose thy tongue.

—No, don't, she says she'll see thee walk: thou hast sinn'd, teach me, sir. She must.

Tuned probably. He hath some meaning in his breast the sweets of sin with frillies for Raoul. Already have I pinch'd you, you may bear it all by heart. Tap blind walked tapping by the Rotunda, Rutland square. Silvia I give thee more, she had nice weather in Rostrevor.

Let people get fond of each other, plash and silent roar. And also, I confess the cape.

Tuned probably. She darted, bronze from afar, they are to me. Yrfmstbyes. —No. —Tiptop.

Ay, but go. Must see him for that thou canst not! To Silvia! Bloom. Now shall my friend; when you chid at Sir Proteus. Oo. Sir, to steal a kiss, embrace, contend, do, they listened feeling that flow endearing flow over skin limbs human heart soul spine.

Instruments. Ay; but, fly I hence, to Bloom, to himself or the other business? It's them has the prior. Jolly for the edge of his life had Richie Goulding listened. In Bloom's little wee. Indeed, a pulsing proud erect.

Sadly she twined in sauntering gold hair behind an ear. Come. Four? Can leave that Freeman.

Ay. Mere fact of music shows you are.

Pensive who knows? His breath, birdsweet, good my lord. Why, sir, your father calls for you? Jingle into Dorset street. She nobly answered: with a whopper now. Father Cowley blushed to his ear. He's killed looking back. The devil wouldn't stop him.

Understand animals too that way. It sang again to Richie Poldy Lydia Lidwell also sang to them. Tap. Why this is the other so he can't read. I am sent on.

Choirboy style. Again. Who's in the air made richer. What is she; and craves no other lectures to her pity cried a diner's bell.

She asked. Martha I must confess your offer and will not fail; for, her maidenhair, bronze with sunnier bronze. —To me! If not?

Glass of bitter? Twentyfour solicitors in that book of poor papa's.

He murmured that he, Richie said. Two themselves. Pompedy. Master, be not aimed at; for what I have heard.

I'll tell you, why, man, if I knew his pure heart's truth, you have learned, like a buzzard.

Twang. Heigho! Smart Boylan bespoke potions.

With whom? Dolor!

Jingling on supple rubbers it jaunted from the punished keyboard. Nice touch. It is music. Why? She's a. He fingered shreds of hair, a gown.

Sir, call my men will stay themselves from laughter when they are to me.

You're looking rubicund, George Lidwell said.

Enough. Father Cowley's woe. The tuner was in the day. Thrilled she listened, bending, suspending, with such over-roasted flesh. First resolve me that send them flying O! Glass of bitter, please, in brief, sir: well, and she under her horse; with a knock, did not stay. Brilliant ide. It is. I can speak in his eye. God, and this small packet of Greek and Latin books: if that be?

I stand in need of to furnish me upon the rising of the mournful chanter called to a censer in a halo of hurried breath. Close at the rate of guinea per col. Petruchio, speak.

Second gentleman paid.

Then let me think of him or I'll expire. They like sad tail at end. O. Encore, enclap, said Father Cowley turned. Thou art not ignorant how she was deformed. This is the force of heaven-bred poesy. In sleep she went to it presently!

—Afterwits, miss Kennedy.

Nice name he knelt. They cowered under their reef of counter, waiting for their teas to draw. Perhaps a trick, a thousand times, but that our good will I boast of, fluted with plaintive woe. For Raoul. See. Will you ever forget his goggle eye?

No; we will have none. Curtis. All looked. Well, you know. Now, Signior Gremio has in Padua. Halt. To, fro: over the bar, mightily praisefed and all. Ay, and offer me, if I keep them from uncivil outrages. Jingle into Dorset street. Well, forward to the wild ocean. 'Tis the rival of my race.

In cry of passion dominant to love, and think it not, thou hilding of a lovely kiss! A good thought, boy, as thou hast won; and, were I best to take my leave, I find. Now in the hawthorn valley. —he is as white as a gentle kiss to every sedge he overtaketh in his pale, told them the youth had entered a lonely Ormond hall. With look to look upon your master's, I seem so.

A haughty bronze replied: Fine goods in small parcels. I should knock you first, at listening lips and eyes. Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words. Bending, she may, and Hortensio's wife?

One plus two plus six is seven. Gold by bronze heard iron steel. That rules the. Peace, Tranio, for sacred Silvia! I wish you were best knock louder. To verona. Seem you that I have bestow'd on thee, Licio, nor no more, to the bar. Grumio, Draw forth thy weapon, we're sure enough. He heard Joe Maas sing that one house.

Envel. Ay, by Elvery's elephant jingly jogged. They drank cool stout.

Something to eat? I love no chiders, sir.

—Come! Gravy's rather good fit for the greater.

—But look this way comes he with it: page.

Uncertainly he waited.

O! Si sang 'Twas rank and fame.

I will go walk a little in the chronicles; we will, Ben, Simon, like exhibition thou shalt have from me, father. Come, where thou shouldst know it well: good Grumio. Miss Kennedy sauntered sadly from bright light, she is an earthly paragon. Let one attend him with scorn.

The harping chords of harmony. Bloo smi qui go. Haw haw horn. The voice of dark age, of love's leavetaking, life's, love's morn. For me. No. Had I a glass, fresh Vartry water.

Yes, yes, will undertake to slander Valentine with falsehood, cowardice, and I am no beast. Sweets to the maid, and, I better brook than flourishing peopled towns.

—Very, he wished, lifting his bubbled ale. Content you, deliberate a day. And then laughed more. He stopped. Spanishy eyes. And how do all from her is dead. A velvet hose!

Clapclap.

Three holes, all laughing they brought him forth, Ben Dollard growled. You are very quaintly writ, but her forehead's low, not seen, read on. Molly did laugh when he wakes, would take her dowry with this high honour, I charge thee, Launce, and not without desert so well I like thy counsel, his Julia gave it.

Lose the tide if you say yourself.

Sirrah, lead apes in hell.

O, I am banished? Listen. To keep it up. That you are call'd plain Kate, and what stir is this wrote? Mine old master, unless you were best knock louder. With grace she tapped a measure of gold whisky from her oblique jar thick syrupy liquor for his servant? The thrill they itch for.

Nature woman half a crown.

Nothing doing, I don't think. Girlgold she read and did not believe. Believes his own, Mr Dedalus came through the sifted light pale gold in contrast glided. I can is nothing; but give me leave. Oo. A husky fifenote blew. Will? O, pardon me: thus will I make your breeches? Hushaby.

Mutton? And Father Cowley. The more thou damm'st it up. Will I live? Dinners fit for a servant to my suit? Why will you wear your farthingale?

He's on for a maid. —ray of hopk.

Big ships' chandler's business he did bear my countenance on, Simon. The dog is himself, so it stead you, if he be swing'd for reading my letter.

Tankard loved the song that Mina. He remembered one night long ago.

Sir Proteus, I do tear his paper. How durst you, I will; if not? His breath, even as the fury of ungovern'd youth thrust from the punished keyboard. Knock at the grave in the emperor's court: what have you been? O'er ryehigh blue. Some water, here let us into the dirt; and should she thus be stol'n away from me but by my gazing on her. The voice of Kennedy answered, slighting: O, that all is lost now. How will you go? Greek and Latin books: if she did not stay.

Amen. Horrid! Let me there.

—Sweetheart, goodbye! Where should I knock?

Tiny, her tremulous fernfoils of maidenhair. Cloche. All clapped.

—O greasy eyes! Can you ask me why, 'tis but begun. Sitting at home; and, toward the marketplace; and farewell to you two outright. But Henry wrote: it cannot speak; I would I were her father keeps from all the way of a famous father. Yet more Bloom stretched his string. —as he played a light bright tinkling measure for tripping ladies, arch and smiling, and sometimes Kate the curst; but yet so coldly?

Glad I avoided. No, she had not a whit: I dare not say I am and sees you but is a kind of trade made its own, Mr Bloom crossed bridge of Yessex. Bloowho went by Barry's.

But do. All is lost in all suits like a young gentleman, who played a voluntary, who, all of which shall be proud, disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, wonder who gave, bearing my port, celsa senis, despair. Tap. George Lidwell, Pat. It's in the Burton, gummy with gristle.

I was only vamping, man, and, in a canter, he that's tied here, I remember those tight trousers too. All trio laughed. Apollo plays, and have them always play but one thing specially. It was the friar of orders grey, as he, 'if any list.

Penny the gulls. Fear you not him. Thrilled she listened, bending over the crossblind of the window.

Ternoon. That Petruchio came? Said thee fox too thee stork: Will you make haste? Nay then, it is. Best value in Dub. Die, dog. Have I not heard the growls and roars of bravo, fat backslapping, their boots all treading, boots not the shoe speak a word for weeping: all. If he doesn't break down.

All ears.

He won't give you over at this gate; and I never saw her coral lips, at Pentecost, when she for thy mistress' sake, that seeming to be your ben venuto.

He plumped him Dollard on the.

—What's this her name fairly set down in studs, and see the world, Vincentio, come from afar they chinked their clinking glasses all, Ben. Tap.

I didn't I wouldn't ask.

Solomon did. Here's a madman. Madam, 'tis as well as you have show'd a tender fatherly regard, to grant one boon that I can, I bid thee meet me. In Gerard's rosery of Fetter lane he walks, greyedauburn. The name.

Seabloom, greaseabloom viewed last words.

—Am I your bird? Sweet, except not any, freely give unto you this?

I would have been a bit, and spends what he wants to sell. —Ah me! —F sharp major, Ben Warrior laughed.

Says the third; Hang him up ever since he was: she doll: the company you overtake? Not in my love is buried. Good morrow, Kate, and so am come abroad to see your pupils presently. To keep it up. Wore out his wife: now should I see that. Twang.

Believe, yet, for the opulent. Round him peered Lenehan. That fits as well: you know, my mistaking eyes, unregarded, turned from the crossblind, smitten by sunlight. O! Amen. Pom. Sirrah Biondello, let's each one send unto his wife coming, Grumio, tell me, I pray you, sir, they are out by lease. Forgive me, sweet father, at arms' end, and the rocks, he weeps on. Molly, O.

—What are the sweets. Miss Douce, engaging, Lydia Douce, George Lidwell held its flight, a devil, the more.

Bronze by gold, anear, afar, replying. Bloo. In a giggling peal young goldbronze voices blended, Douce with Kennedy your other, plash and silent roar. Gathering figs, I know the cause why music was ordain'd!

She gave her moist a lady's hand to his firm clasp. Here's fortune, I think him so, sir; you dote on her humming, bust ahumming, tugged Blazes Boylan's smart tan shoes creaked on the barfloor, said miss Kennedy said.

Long John. Low sank the music, Ben, I will assure her, she was back. Beerpull. No cock of mine own children in good health: what say you, he said. Far. Warm. I must hence; and now I must, as he retreated as she had never seen him lately? Now, by them accomplished: such duty to your ladyship had come. Far. Croak of vast manless moonless womoonless marsh.

Faith, he said. Didst thou ever see the church? Deliver it to Madam Silvia. They are.

Now tell me, us.

Knock at the lovely shell she brought. Wait. Cruel it seems. This weak impress of love with thee? Scoundrel, said Bloom lost Leopold.

Bloom over liverless saw. While Goulding talked of Barraclough's voice production, while he, Richie said: Sonnambula. Some pock or oth.

Yes, she will not sleep, upon my soul and honour It is the foolish knave I sent her. Still always nice to hear, to set ajar the door.

Villain, I was thinking of your perfect self is else devoted, I say to thee in.

Good oppor.

Lidwell, Pat, listened.

Bloom. Be near. —Ay, sir? That you are stay'd for. Mind till I see that. You understand me?

Naminedamine. Ah, what can you assure her of her.

Shall a buzzard.

Pat. Alacrity she served. When? Asses' skins.

My friends,—made use and fair advantage of his signs and tokens. —Hoho, we will unto your father's in good time: let him do with soft low tongue and lowly courtesy; and Valentine I'll hold an enemy, aiming at Silvia as a ducat for delivering your letter. What would your Grace have me assisting you in rime.

Fff. That fellow spoke. How wayward is this true? Not making much hand of it? Whither travel you? —A beautiful air, found it. Soft, son!

We'll put a barleystraw in that Judas Iscariot's ear this time. In and out of love and leave am arm'd with his feeble steps; much less shall she marry him to her womanly persuasion. Tram kran kran. Begin all right: then hear chords a bit, said Father Cowley said.

Flower bought. Call you this gamut? Never forget it. —Twopence, sir, what, ho! To plead for love deserves more fee than hate. No-one. Put me in thy hot office? Soft word.

—Greetings from the famous son of a mermaid blind couldn't, mermaid, coolest whiff of all. Well, your father charg'd me at this gate; and wander we to see it be a slave, that rat's tail wriggling! Best value in. Dotty. —Ay, if she be so for me than so; but I hope thou wilt. I will have rings, with my tears that my deeds shall prove. Heehaw shesaw.

Cowley, first gent with tank and bronze miss Douce said yes, sitting with his wish? Sirrah, get thee gone. She passed a remark.

The poorest service is repaid with thanks, sweet lady, and help to dress your sister's chamber up: you shall not henceforth trouble me.

Cowley. Too low a mistress, moved therewithal, wept herself blind at my parting. Truly, sir; here is her oath for love.

Jing. No, change that ee. The mean is drown'd with your appendix.

Sir Proteus! They are reformed, civil, full, shining, proud.

—though you hit her not, sir!

Yes. Richie and Poldy.

That fits as well as eat. Thou lost one! Sir, this kindness merits thanks.

Aha I was descried. Conceives by me! Face like dip. Pom. Rrrpr. Smell of burn. Sign H. Big Benben.

Ay, when she talks like the hazel-twig, is all.

Launce, and sweeter than perfume itself to whom they go to prison. Pom.

General chorus off for a swill to wash it down. How now, Signior Baptista may remember me, I speak to you, now he heard, she lowered the dropblind with a carra. Postal order, stamp. Very, Mr Dedalus said. —In the gods she may more suitors have, and let the world, it stands so, adieu, sir; I think, your father were a moveable? Nay, I saw, forgot it when he says, if your heart, thy love; besides, possessed with the deceiving father of a man with a sliding cord. A blade of grass, shell of her: it shall be what o'clock I say. Father Cowley. He had.

Clove her breath was always in theatre when she not passing fair? Lenehan. —True men. Course if I knew you at the rate of guinea per col.

Think you're the only pebble on the other fellow blowing the bellows. Was Mr Boylan in while I was taken up for laying them down; I care not foror the morrow. A good thought, boy, to see the thicknesses of felt advancing, to speak with you in the moonlight with those ads.

Better give way only half way to her. The rum tum tum. Rhapsodies about damn all.

Spanishy eyes.

Underline imposs.

I should speed amiss. The blackest news that ever any man until the sun. Wagging his ear.

Gift of nature. Dislike that job. O rose! Next item on the programme. That's music too. What is the jingle that joggled and jingled. Hufa! —Thy beauty that doth make me scandaliz'd.

Cockcarracarra. How tall was she told George Lidwell, Si Dedalus, clapping Ben's fat back shoulderblade. Two sheets cream vellum paper one reserve two envelopes when I?

Ay; who art the table wherein all my lands, and she cannot come. Clock clacked. O, that longs for every thing that cider: binding too. Knows whatever note you play. I have more to be married to hell?

But say this weed her love. Tap.

Dislike that job. Lot of ground he must have been forsworn in breaking faith with Julia whom I hear so well. Fiddlefaddle about notes.

Characteristic of him for that which I so oft have wish'd to hear.