A Bloomsday performance happened during the What You Will Festival of Improvised Music. This happened during a wonderful day teeming with concerts by trios, quartets & larger ensembles from the Midwest and New York -- on a sculpture-filled farm in Sunbury, Ohio. There was also scrumptious gumbo simmering on a fire, but that's another story... 

Leo Daedalus, Joe Vajarsky, Veronica Tonkin, Dale Johnson, Gerard Cox, Josephine Craven and Nathalia Hudina read passages from Ulysses, and James Cornish (baritone horn), Hasan Abdur-Razzaq (percussion), Anthony Poretti (drums) and Albert Wildeman (upright bass) accompanied the readers with improvised music. Dan Godston curated this performance. 
photo credit: Dan Godston
The Next Objectivists is a collective of writers that holds workshops at Mess Hall, a venue in Chicago's Rogers Park neighborhood -- to "chart a poetics of the outsidereal by reading, writing, discussing & eating & drinking our way through a variety of texts." On June 14th The Next Objectivists collaborated with the Borderbend Arts Collective to present a workshop about Ulysses, with a focus on the "Eumaeus" episode

During this Next Objectivists workshop, participants read and wrote through passages of "Eumaeus." Dan Godston facilitated a writing activity during which people used approaches and strategies developed by Gertrude Stein, the Surrealists, Oulipo and Gnoetry to "write through" the "Eumaeus" of Ulysses.

Thanks to the Next Objectivists for being part of "Bloomsday 2012 & Ulysses' 90th"!

Eumaeus Exquisite Corpse                 by the Next Objectivists

Who bleached the false-messenger?
Try it. You may mention my name.

What kind of cake would you die for?
I seen a crocodile bite a fluke of an anchor same as I chew that quid.

When does the sun rise next week?
Look here. Here they are. A friend of mine sent me.

Why synthesize when you could analyze? 
My little woman’s down there. She’s waiting for me, I know. For England, home and beauty.

Why am I so surreal just now?
We woke this morning at seven o’clock.

What is the true meaning of resurrection?
He toured the wide world with Hengler’s Royal Circus.

What the hell are you doing with your life?
I seen him shoot two eggs off two bottles at fifty yards over his shoulder.

If the brown cow ate black grass what color would his dung be?
Not as much as a farthing to purchase a night’s lodging.

Who invests in vacation homes and makes lots of cash?
Sounds are impostures, Stephen said after a pause of some little time, like names.

What time is it?
A beautiful language. I mean for singing purposes.

To whom was the package sent?
A few broken biscuits were all the result of his investigation.

What name would you never screw?
The fill the ear of a cow elephant. 

Note: The second line of each couplet is taken from the "Eumaeus" section of Ulysses.

"N + 7" by Rey Esco, Adrianne Dodt and Toby Altman

A gifted manila mr bloom said of mr. daedalus senior in more respects than one in the born racket if there ever was one he takes great pricker quite legitimately out of you you could go back perhaps he hazzarded still thinking of the very unpleasant scaup at West Glamorgan rove terminal when it was perfectly evident that the other twit mull that is and that English toupe Friday of his who eventually euchred their third commuter, were patently trying as if the whole bally state socialism belonged to them to give Steven the slime mold in the confrere

"Joyce’s Ulysses, a gurgling noise" by Gene Tanta

brushed up orthodox beverage pump
off the reel hardly a stone 
ways and means in the shape
after some soap-sudsy hands
livery stables round the corner
by some fellows a kind of whistle
nothing for it but to foot it by circumstance
as the temperature happened 
as the tramway apropos the main entrance  
of the morgue in due course 
acting as the vidius palpable and indispensible 
sober companion of the ill-famed death-trap 
for every contingency the need for an accident-solicitor
cordially disliked to swear upon a hat
and to the health of fast women drunk with
season to us both
led to trouble grating the staff of life
awaiting news from abroad
wholesale waters duly arrived with an axe
surplus steam and good Irish bacon with little account of crime
a bit peeved but never the less an admiral 
the coal scene the confidence trick
on the scaffold high snapping at the bone

Eumaeus Gnoetry

Ay, ay or no.  To
think of him, became in due
course.  And so on the
prowl evidently under
the mangle devouring
a mess of eggshells
and charred fish heads and bones on
a par with the mind.

Texts: James Joyce, Eumaeus

A great deal of change out of
the missive which made him
nourish some
suspicions of
our skipper's
bricks disguised.  To
think of him and his gestures
being also clumsy as
it so happened, he had not
but the cream
of the pair of greenish
goggles which he beat a
retreat to
his main view.  To
seek misfortune, weather.

Texts: James Joyce, Eumaeus

But as I chew that quid.  You know I would
to a step in the
passage and we are held up to tally
with the show girl, as he was and
a large crowd had assembled to see the
greatest danger of
the lip: what's bred in the sweeper car or
you might just as well as a born
raconteur if ever there was a bit
like that from the house
will be in on it.  She put the first of
every chorus fluff that off.

Texts:  James Joyce, Eumaeus; Kenneth McGaffey, The Sorrows of a Show Girl

That was
first to
rise from
his hat
at the, for
the young man
he was
then, he had
heard not
so long as
chew that

Texts:  James Joyce, Eumaeus

Still no matter what
you say.  To
which sounded rather
a far cry.
I shouldn't think that
is, and then,
when the husband was
a fact the
weeklies, addicted
to stephen.

Texts: James Joyce, Eumaeus

The husband was a ship.  The sailor said,
in fact.  The sailor.  Seeing that the man
in his affections.  By the name, the name,
the name, the sailor said, in fact.  Across
the world, the sailor.  That's a matter of
a choice concoction labelled coffee on
the matter of a literary cove
in his affections.  So, in it.  Tattoo,
the sacred music of the thing.  Tattoo,
the keeper said, europa point, the end.
A figure of the.  At the lowest, near
the end.  The husband was a jew.  The mind.

Texts: James Joyce, Eumaeus

To read more Eumaeus Gnoetry, click on the "Eumaeus Gnoetry" tag on the right of this page.

Here is an excerpt of scene 12
from Ulysses by Alison Vodnoy Wolf -- 

A Note:  In the script, all italicized text which is not in parentheses is the inner dialogue of the character.  It is spoken aloud as an aside to the audience. 

(Lights up on THE IRISHMAN.  He is on a grey Dublin street.  During the italicized text he speaks to the audience.)


I was just passing the time of day and be damned but a bloody sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye. I turned around to let him have the weight of my tongue when who should I see - only Joe Hynes. Lo, Joe.  How are you blowing? Did you see that bloody chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his brush?


Soot's luck.  


Obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders!


What are you doing round those parts? 


Devil a much. There is a bloody big foxy thief by the name of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury street.




Ay. A bit off the top.  But that's the most notorious bloody robber you'd meet in a day's walk and the face on him all pockmarks would hold a shower of rain.  Arrah, Joe, I've a thirst on me I wouldn't sell for half a crown.


Come around to Barney Kiernan’s.  I want to see the citizen.


So we turned into Barney Kiernan's and there sure enough was the citizen up in the corner and that bloody mangy mongrel, Garryowen.  There he is, says I, in his gloryhole, working for the cause.  (THE DOG lets out a fearsome grouse.  THE IRISHMAN turns to JOE.) Be a corporal work of mercy if someone would take the life of that bloody dog. I'm told for a fact he ate a good part of the breeches off a man in Santry.

(to the bartender, TERRY) Three pints, Terry. And how's the old heart, citizen? 


Never better. (to the DOG) What Garry? Are we going to win? Eh?

(And with that THE CITIZEN takes the bloody old DOG by the scruff of the neck and, by Jesus, he near throttles him.  JOE throws a quid onto the bar.)


And there's more where that came from.


Were you robbing the poorbox, Joe? 


Sweat of my brow.


How's Willy Murray those times, Alf?


I don't know. I saw him just now in Capel Street with Paddy Dignam. 


You what? With who?

To read scene 12 of "Ulysses" in its entirety, download the pdf below. 

File Size: 148 kb
File Type: pdf
Download File

Jake Crane, Creole Sue,
Dove Campbell, the diffusion
of daybreak, down, for

instance there was nothing for
you. Prove that gospel. O well

connected. The joy,
the feel of her lord that she
used to overhear.

She used to say a
word of it out of plumb. From
me, he says? At a

wake when the torrid and the
nun of that I am here to

read a name?  Were there
obverse meditations of

People looking up
at the exertion of the
spine. Better get this

job over quick.  In the dark
chords. Her grave is over here:

the world. Here, sir: the
slow music. You see most of
the dark land they heard.

Is there any... no
trouble I expect. Mr.
Bloom promptly did as

suggested and removed the
saucepan to the blessed: looked at

his feet. Heart to kneel.
His first puff violently
towards the tombstones.

O, the eloquent
fact remained that morning. Then
he murmured then with

force like men. All these rocks with
lines and scars and letters. From

his rank and fame that
tempted thee, and in the past
day, the ghosts of him.

A series of renga created with Gnoetry0.2's statistical analysis of Ulysses, as facilitated by end-user Eric Elshtain.

Then they all got blind dhrunk - which complated their bliss, And we keep up the practice from that day to this. -- Samuel Lover, "The Birth of Saint Patrick"
Sly Uses:  Having My Way With Ulysses
From Cyclops

June 1, 2012

Seventeen o'clock
On the first day of June it was some people say,
That old Bloom got a check for some work it was pay.
He bought for dear Molly garters violet and fair
But that fat heap he married hrumphed "why just one pair?!"
Well now Bloom he does try, and mistakes will be made,
But do we blame poor old Poldy for plans poorly laid?
My dear Mrs. Marion, 'tis only too true
Your man is in peril, mocked, scorned, and he's blue!

You don't grasp my point, what I'm meaning is thus:
While Molly's post-coital, Bloom's making a fuss.
He's stirring up trouble, poking giants in eyes.
Will it end well for Poldy? There'll be no surprise.
While he longs for his Molly (though soon visits another)
Foes want to harm him, beat, hang, maim, and smother!
They'll string him from tree limbs! They'll maul him I swear!
They'll brain him with biscuit tins flying through air!

Now please don't be fightin' for this or for thine,
Don't be so dividin', come on let's combine!
Molly, he gave you nice garters 'tis true,
But he brought you face lotion and four handkerchiefs too.
He'll bring you more lotion if he remembers besides
But poor Poldy's hit bottom and downward he slides.
Treat him gently, with kindness, bring him breakfast and treats.
And for Christ's sake, Madam Molly, at least wash the sheets!