it is a kind of madness

So I'm sitting in front of my computer, pouring over a story on these two award winning, young entrepreneurs, when suddenly something hits me in the head: "I must read Ulysses."

No, really, that's the thought that struck me, out of nowhere. "I must read Ulysses." As if I had nothing in the world better to do than stagger through one of the world's most ponderous tomes. As if I don't have enough mind-numbingly pedantic material sitting untouched from my lute teacher (Odo of Cluny anyone?). As if I never made it only half way through Portrait of the Artist before giving up in despair (okay, let's be honest, it was boredom). I still can't tell you what that one was about - there was a boy, he was in Ireland, I think he might have had a birthday, but that's all I could make out. That was about a dozen years ago, when my grand scheme was to work my way up through Joyce's works to the grand finale, Ulysses, the coup de maitre, via Portrait and Dubliners (they're not a trilogy, but your supposed to read them first). Now I just want to skip that crap and jump straight into it. I know, spoken like a true lit major, n'est pas?

The question of "why?!?!" obviously springs to mind. Quite frankly, I'd like to be able to toss around a quote or two. "Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls," perhaps, or "a policeman sweating Irish stew into his shirt; you couldn't squeeze a line of poetry out of him." Not that they translate to just ANY conversation. But I'd like to tell my lute teacher, next time he goes on a tangent, that "history is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake." Why not?

Also, with all this German exposure I've been getting recently - I've actually started telling people I am German (well, I am, completetly on my mum's side; I'm only Irish from my paternal grandfather, mixed with Scottish from my paternal grandmother) - it's time I start getting back in touch with my Irish roots, which have always defined me before. This should help (unless I drown in it, which would be counterproductive).

. . . Or I could just check out Ulysses for Dummies, at http://www.bway.net/~hunger/ulysses.html (yes, I've already started to research this - I must have more time than brains?). Either way, I simply must get a book - a sort of literary trophy, somewhat akin to a hunter's moose head over the fire place - a testimony to my fortitude, as the Washington Post put it.

May just go hunting for one next week. I will argue that owning one is half the battle, even though getting past the first page is really the triumph. But baby steps, baby steps. Will definately keep you posted.