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| Boccaccio: "Poldy, my friend, you don't have a birthday in Wikipedia, just the year of birth. How cometh?" Bloom: "Boccia, my friend,: Happy Birthday! How cometh you've been dead for 649 years?" Boccaccio: "Aren't we all mortal?" Bloom (smiling softly): "Not all of us". Boccaccio: ? Bloom: "Because June 16th, 1904, I became immortal." |
Giovanni Boccaccio (16 June 1313 – 21 December 1375)
Leopold Bloom * 1866
As tomorrow James Joyce will – not would! – celebrate his 142nd birthday, and as today is Laughing Lhursday, I think it is about time to once again post this glorious encounter of him and Samuel Beckett.
James Joyce (2 February 1882 – 13 January 1941)
Samuel Beckett (13 April 1906 – 22 December 1989)
* [For first time visitors]:
Typo in the title?
Nah.
It's just that I would not let a tiny T spoil an avantgardistic alliteration.
"Our civilization, bequeathed to us by fierce adventurers, eaters of meat and hunters, is so full of hurry and combat, so busy about many things which perhaps are of no importance, that it cannot but see something feeble in a civilization which smiles as it refuses to make the battlefield the test of excellence."James Joyce (2 February 1882 – 13 January 1941)
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| June 16th, Bloomsday. But which one? The 118th! Well, but had "Ulysses" not been published in 1922, thus one hundred years ago, there would not be any. Therefore rather the 100th. Whereas Flann O'Brien after the umpteenth pint of stout might prattle: It's the 68th. |
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| "Is there any chance of a drink itself?" from Dubliners, Ivy Day in the Commitee Room |
James Joyce (2 February 1881 – 13 January 1941)
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| Thus spake Leopold: If it were to honour Joyce it would be Joyceday. |
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| "I am today what I established yesterday." |
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copyright issue for greedy cats of Dublin. Fuck the Joyce estate. |
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| Hundred years later * beginning my odyssee. Seven years later ? . . . |
