Ulysses & You -- Q's & A's: 

We're gathering for audio responses: 

1. What made you first decide to read Ulysses? (Did you start reading it on your own, while you were taking a class, in a book club, etc.)

2. What's one thing that you remember about reading Ulysses for the first time?

3. If you're reading Ulysses for the first time, what's one impression you're having of this experience? 

4. If you're rereading Ulysses, how is this time around different for you than the first time you read the novel? 
5. What's your favorite chapter in Ulysses

6. What's your favorite sentence in Ulysses

7. Who's your favorite character in Ulysses

We'd like to hear from you... Please choose one of those aforementioned questions, and record yourself responding to one of those questions. Then email Ulysses90th@gmail.com, with Bloomsday 2012 Q&A in the subject line, and we'll coordinate a way for you to send your audio response to us. 

More audio responses will be made available here soon. Stay tuned for updates! 


I. Je suis une femme de lettres et je gagne ma vie.

All ways a feather: bed your bugs as they bud
Welling roses these sweltering days
Rose roaches blooming by books, near pillows
Blooming by Bloomsday, busting out by June
Busting on Broadway, busting the busts…
            Hey, this is…my bra!
            (Like swallowing feathers, you know,
            dirty feathers.)
            And this is December and over there, Christmas
            We call April Easter cause she makes them march.

Welling roses in Wellington Rolls
Rose roaches blooming by books, near pillows
Rolls with butter, rolls with jam
Roll her over, let’s go hot damn!
Sweltering days as rose roaches bloom
Swilling slaves in rose roaches’ room

Bloom, concrete blossoms!
Bloom, Broadway bottoms!
Bloom! Picks his nose
Bloom! As he grows. . . .

Bed your bugs as they bud, as they breed─what a breed!
Ill-bred, no bread
Dirty cunt’s puking
Just giving me head. . . .

All ways are fettered
Fellated and fucked
For ever and all
But mostly for us

II. Foret sans oiseaux

All ways are feathered.
For rest a bed, 
For the rest, a bed . . . .
Hey, this is. . . .I know; I’ve had them for years.
I’ve had it. Have you? Been had?
Have you a forest? Have you a bed?
Have you a haven?
(Forests of feathers: naked birds shrieking
Bony birds swooping
Burning birds screaming
Descending like hell)

Blooming rose roaches all buds destroyed
Bony birds bleeding, beating, breaking, bled. . .
For rest, a bed, for rest. . .
Fine-feathered slaughter by books, near pillows
Rose roaches breed,
Bleed swiftly and die.

III. On commence par tre dupe, on finit par tre fripon.
                                                                       George Sand

Always the feathers: hi, I’m Molly Bloom;
Blow by my bathroom . . . .
By the window a frozen bird, frozen for weeks,
A weak bird, a dead duck, a gone goose,
A pigeon petered out. . . .

But I’m Molly Bloom, you’ve had me, you know:
Birds are just chirping snakes. 
But I’m Molly Bloom, I’m a mammal,
I have mammaries, see: This is a bust!
I don’t touch dead birds.

This is December, and over there’s Christmas
And Easter will rise to any occasion
For ever and all
For Peter and Paul. . . .
But I’m Molly Bloom, I’m a pagan, you fuck!
(A man? Where?)

A feather bed for me, a haven for rest,
Pillows for the head, and books for the rest
I need the rest: this is short, where’s the rest?

All ways are fetid
Fellated and fucked
No bird’s no damn good
Until it’s been plucked.
A man? Amen. This is Easter:
Rest that piece.

"Bloom" -- Larissa Shmailo (voice) & Bobby Perfect (composition, guitar, drums)
From Shmailo's CD Exorcism