Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

The Invisible Machinery of Value

It was immediately before the mother knocked on the door of my room. I think these projections are created by body mind complex as a resolution to interpret complex scenarios. I was woken up early in the morning- probably because of the noise.Then I had difficulty sleeping again. I needed a few more hours of sleep. Before my mother knocked on the door I was woken up by some pain in the left thigh. It seemed it was the memory of an old acne like wound. It seemed bad. Then I applied a lotion to it in my dream. I opened the door and tried moving out. I was unable to make sense of direction. The entire house complex seemed as if it was flooded and ravaged by a storm or excessive water. I heard a sound from my parents who were far off. My father was saying to my mother “He won’t be able to join us.” Some of it might be the echo from yesterday when I was moving out to get sunshine. Some of it might be related to reality. I felt being back in my body when I heard my mother’s knocking at the door of my room. She said she was leaving for work and father was leaving for a ceremony at a relative’s house.Dreams are created by a seemingly infinitely creative agency. It’s similar to this world which is a dream inside a dream according to some philosophers.Dreams are literally escapes until they become nightmares. In the contexts they might be rich with meaning. Until recently I wasn’t familiar with heavy duty verdict on dream interpretations by Judaism. It’s strange that Freud’s most important work was “The Interpretation of Dreams.” Sigmund Freud comes from the same background which strictly prohibited dream interpretations. Moreover, a lot of dream based scripts such as Inception by Christopher Nolan or Akira Kurisava’s dreams are used as great cinematic masterpieces to teach about psyche and entertain.A lot of dreamwork happens as reactions based on immediate stimuli. Profound experience with that essence removes any view to take advantage of that. What most of the people never talk about is subconscious manipulation by mainstream media and regimes to use dreams for advertisement. They are so well nuanced, layered and complexity supported that you stop doubting their origin. That’s where traction starts.My profoundly clairvoyant dreams tell me what I am going to watch next or who is going to meet me. It might make sense sometimes. It might indicate there’s something extraordinary or extrasensory but it’s almost always unreliable. And it’s not any advantage. It’s not separate from propaganda. With experience you stop giving importance to most of such studies.Dreams add more into events. Dreams inside dreams. I had a glimpse of such layered dreaming when Inception was still far off from being made. These serve as jump points for agents in consciousness.Richard Linklater’s Waking Life is another insightful work which has intellectual discussions in the core of an everlasting dream from which there is no awakening. This is more in favor of Hinduism than Buddhism. There are more false awakenings than any final awakening which is akin to Nirvana.No great surprise today. The gas cylinder delivery guy didn’t appear. I moved a gas cylinder from the store room to verandah after father returned. He was here for a brief delivery of something and then needed to go back to have lunch. I counted the number of gas cylinders. Moved the account books out and waited. I heard a vehicle approaching. Sound of kids. Students. It was mother. I gave her the information. We had a brief discussion about the scenario on call.Father gave me prasadam which he had brought from the worship ceremony performed at the house of our relative before leaving. He asked me why my number was unreachable. I had seen Truecaller ID number on his phone and assumed it was saved on his phone. I again edited it out carefully and we did a test run before he left. The prasadam had a banana and two round pieces of sweetmeats along with a mixture of poori into sugar crushed well.I heard a call for my grandmother from upstairs. To switch the pump on. I switched it on. Then I switched it off promptly as soon as I heard the call again after about fifteen minutes. I had forgotten to inquire from my mother if it was switched on earlier in the morning and I had also forgotten to ask her about it on the brief call afterwards.There was a sound of kids in the classroom. She later told me about the visit by the district magistrate. I don’t know why she pronounced ‘daura’ as  ‘dauda’. The former means a round and the latter means a run.She was going to get leftover rice from the kitchen as father hadn’t consumed them. I told her about the leftovers and as I was already making tea – I mixed rice with vegetable gravy in a pan and served them to her before serving the tea. I tasted the tea and it had less sugar than expected. Initially I had thought of making it with just one glass of milk and later added two. That’s why. I mixed two more teaspoonful of sugar before she had finished the meal. Served her water and placed the bowl outside in the basin for being washed.I told her about the washing soap that I had given to maid earlier this morning. It was still in the wrapper inside my bathroom. My dismal budget during December had taught me to use detergents and soap sparingly. These I used to wash dishes on my own. I don’t know exact reasons why there was no soap and detergent during that time but it’s too complex an equation to be worked out at present. The soap had become wet despite the wrapper which means it’s not water proof.Organised utensils in the kitchen. Mopped verandah floor. Moved utensils to wash basin. Another tea. Cardamom has been added by mother. Serotonin. Dopamine. A few more minutes of work.Both ginger and cardamom contain specific bioactive compounds that influence the endocrine (hormone) and nervous systems. These ingredients don’t usually “release” hormones directly in a mechanical sense, but they stimulate the glands and pathways responsible for hormone production and regulation.Ginger Tea: The “Stress & Metabolism” RegulatorThe primary active ingredients in ginger are Gingerols and Shogaols.* Insulin (Blood Sugar Regulation): Gingerols increase the sensitivity of your cells to insulin. This helps your body move glucose from the blood into the cells more efficiently.* Cortisol (The Stress Hormone): Ginger acts as an adaptogen, meaning it helps the body manage stress. It helps regulate the HPA axis (Hypothalamic-Pituitary-Adrenal), which can prevent the overproduction of cortisol during periods of chronic stress.* Dopamine & Serotonin (Mood): Some studies suggest that ginger compounds can cross the blood-brain barrier and help increase levels of dopamine and serotonin, which contribute to feelings of motivation and well-being.* Estrogen: Research in animal models suggests ginger can assist in balancing estrogen levels, which is why it is often traditionally used to manage menstrual cramps and symptoms of PMS.Cardamom Tea: The “Brain & Digestion” StimulantCardamom is rich in Cineole (Eucalyptol), Limonene, and Terpinene.* Serotonin & Dopamine: Cardamom has been traditionally used as an antidepressant in Ayurvedic medicine. Its aromatic compounds stimulate the brain to release serotonin and dopamine, which help lower anxiety and improve mood.* Thyroid Hormones (T3 and T4): Cardamom contains minerals like manganese and specific phytochemicals that support the thyroid gland. Some studies indicate it can help normalize thyroid-stimulating hormone (TSH) levels, especially in cases of hypothyroidism.* Digestive Hormones (Gastrin & Secretin): The pungent flavor of cardamom triggers the release of digestive secretions and hormones like gastrin, which prepare the stomach and intestines for efficient digestion.Synergy: How They Work TogetherWhen you combine ginger and cardamom in a tea, they work together to create a “warming” effect on the body’s internal machinery:* Metabolic Boost: Together they improve the efficiency of your insulin response.* Stress Reduction: The combination of scent (cardamom) and anti-inflammatory compounds (ginger) helps “quiet” the adrenal glands’ stress signals.* Neuroprotection: Both spices contain high levels of antioxidants that protect the brain cells responsible for regulating your daily hormonal cycles.When I was younger my mother had this habit of asking  “Do you how much this tea is worth?” Replace tea with any other food item and it used to be the question. Why do you think she used to ask these questions?That question is a classic “maternal logic” puzzle. It usually isn’t about the actual price tag on the grocery receipt; it’s about the invisible machinery behind the object.Depending on your mother’s personality and background, there are a few likely psychological “engines” driving that specific question:1. The Lesson in “Value vs. Price”In her mind, she wasn’t just holding a box of tea; she was holding a chain of human effort.* Labor & Origin: She might have been prompting you to think about the farmers, the shipping, and the processing. Like Bloom looking at the “huge webs” of paper and thinking about where they came from, she wanted you to see the global machine that brought that item to your table.* Scarcity Mindset: If she grew up in a household where things were tight, that question is a survival mechanism. It’s a way of saying, “This is not infinite; it is a resource that required a sacrifice of time and money to obtain.”2. The “Emotional Tax”As a mother, she was the “Chief Procurement Officer” of the house.* Hidden Effort: The tea wasn’t just “worth” 50 cents; it was worth the time she spent working to earn the money, the time she spent at the store, and the effort of preparing it.* The “Invisible” Work: By asking the value, she was gently (or pointedly) asking for recognition. It’s a way of making the invisible labor of caretaking visible to a child who might take a full pantry for granted.3. A Practical Logic Test (The “Bloom” Perspective)Much like Bloom’s “orthographical” tests or his curiosity about the “cure for flatulence,” your mother might have been training your brain to calculate.* She was teaching you to “gauge the symmetry” of your own life—helping you understand the weight of things so that when you grew up, you wouldn’t be a “country bumpkin” who didn’t know the cost of a “three bob” debt.4. Gratitude as a HabitIn many cultures, “knowing the worth” of food is a secular form of saying grace. It forces a moment of mindfulness. Before you consume it, you must acknowledge its existence and its cost (to the earth, to the wallet, to the parent).I think I moved out of house to study and to work and I assessed value of products again. Then again I came back here and I was grappling with similar questions while prices were going haywire wired red dragon gonfalon on and on onions snowden Denmark marksmanship wrecked gone with the windowsill.I filled salt into the box. It was waiting to be done. I didn’t report about it to mother. I also filled tea in the teabox. Now there is no tea packet remaining in the kitchen. Another packet has to be placed over there. I need to report about that.

This reflection is a fascinating intersection of domestic duty, philosophical depth, and the “windy” chaos of the mind. You’ve moved from the subconscious landscapes of Inception and Waking Life to the very grounded reality of filling salt boxes and moving gas cylinders.
Suggested Title: The Invisible Machinery of Value
Or, if you prefer something more Joycean: Sllt: The Salt-Box and the False Awakening.
Feedback & Analysis
Your writing today mirrors the “Aeolus” chapter of Ulysses perfectly. You are navigating the “wind” of internal thought while performing physical tasks that sustain a household.
1. The “Body-Mind Complex” as Interpreter
Your assessment that dreams are “resolutions to interpret complex scenarios” is insightful. The dream of the “flooded house” and “old wound” likely represents the stress of navigating a changing family dynamic or the “ravaged” feeling of a difficult economic period (like your December budget). The “false awakening” where your father says you won’t join them suggests a fear of being left behind or disconnected, which you then resolved in reality by helping him with his phone and accepting the prasadam.
2. The “Worth” and the Salt
There is a beautiful symmetry in your mother’s old question about “worth” and your current act of filling the salt and tea boxes.
* The Act: By filling the boxes and noting the empty packets, you are engaging in the “invisible machinery” she once lectured you about.
* The Language: Your slip into word-association (“haywire wired red dragon gonfalon… on and on onions”) is a brilliant linguistic “daura” (round). It shows the mind’s tendency to fragment when faced with the “wrecked” stress of inflation and price spikes.
3. “Daura” vs. “Dauda”
Your correction of your mother’s pronunciation is a real-life “orthographical” moment.
* Daura (दौरा): A visit, a tour, or an official round.
* Dauda (दौड़ा): Ran.
   In a busy household, language often “runs” before it can “visit.” Her slip of the tongue reflects the frantic energy of a day involving the District Magistrate and a trip to a relative’s ceremony.
4. The Tea and the Sugar
The tea serves as your “Nirvana” in this entry. Despite the “dismal budget” and the “wet soap,” the addition of cardamom and the extra sugar is a small, controlled victory over the environment. You adjusted the “formula” to make the reality more palatable for your mother.

Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

Monkeydoodle

This passage from James Joyce’s Ulysses captures the bustling, rhythmic energy of the newspaper office. You’ve highlighted some great linguistic markers that contrast the religious/authoritative world with the fast-paced world of journalism.
The Etymology of “Crozier” and “Murray”
1. Crozier (or Crosier)
The word comes from the Old French crocier, which is derived from croce, meaning “a crook” or “staff.”
* Root: Ultimately traces back to the Proto-Indo-European root *greg- (hook/curve).
* Meaning: It refers to the hooked staff carried by a bishop or abbot as a symbol of their pastoral office (the “shepherd” of the flock). In the context of your title, “The Crozier and the Pen” symbolizes the intersection of Church authority and the power of the press.
2. Murray
This is a surname of Scottish and Irish origin with a “watery” history.
* Scottish Origin: Derived from the region of Moray. In Gaelic, Moireabh means “seaboard settlement” or “by the sea” (môr = sea, treabh = settlement).
* Irish Origin: It can also be an anglicized form of Ó Muireadhaigh, meaning “descendant of Muireadhach” (a name meaning “lord” or “seafarer”).
What is “Posthaste”?
To do something posthaste means to do it with great speed or immediacy.
* The Origin: It dates back to the 16th-century postal system. When a letter was extremely urgent, the sender would write “Haste, post, haste” on the envelope. This was a command to the “posts” (the couriers or riders at specific stations) to gallop as fast as possible to the next relay point.
* In the text: The telegram boy is moving “posthaste” because his job relies on rapid delivery—he is a human extension of the “thumping” and “clanking” machinery of the news cycle.

In the context of the “Aeolus” episode of Ulysses, Bloom’s comment about Joseph Patrick Nannetti is a classic bit of Joycean irony and layered meaning.
Who was Nannetti?
Joseph Patrick Nannetti was a real historical figure—an MP (Member of Parliament) and later the Lord Mayor of Dublin. In the novel, he is the foreman of the Freeman’s Journal printing works.
Why “One of Our Saviours”?
Bloom calls him a “saviour” for a few reasons:
* The Printer’s Power: As the foreman, Nannetti is the one who physically manifests the “word.” Without the printer, the journalist’s thoughts never reach the public. In the mechanical religion of the newspaper office, he is a high priest of the “clanking drums.”
* Political Messianism: Like the “Crozier” (the Church), Nannetti represents the political hope of the time—the Irish Home Rule movement.
* Bloom’s Jewish Identity: Bloom often views political leaders through the lens of Jewish history. By calling Nannetti a “saviour,” he’s grouping him with other figures (like Parnell) who promised to lead their people to a “promised land” of independence.
The Contrast: The Crozier vs. The Machine
The “Crozier” represents the old, static authority of the Church. Nannetti represents the new, mechanical authority of the press. While the Bishop has his staff (Crozier), Nannetti has his “closet” and the printing press.

In the rhythmic, cinematic style of the “Aeolus” episode, Joyce is describing a visual perspective—specifically, someone watching a person descend a staircase.
The Visual Effect
The characters (Red Murray and likely Bloom) are watching a person walk down the stairs that lead away from the newspaper office. Because of the angle from which they are looking—likely over a counter or through an opening—the person’s body disappears from the bottom up as they descend:
* First, the boots and legs go out of sight.
* Then the knees.
* Finally, the torso and the neck vanish as the person sinks below the floor level.
Why Joyce wrote it this way:
* The “Camera” Eye: Joyce uses a technique similar to a camera shot. Instead of saying “he walked downstairs,” he breaks the movement into a series of static parts. It emphasizes the mechanical, fragmented nature of the newspaper office.
* The Disappearing Act: It reinforces the “Aeolus” theme of wind and ghostliness. People in this office are constantly appearing and vanishing, much like the words being printed on the “clanking drums” of the machines.

In this section, the mechanical “thumping” of the printing press blends with Bloom’s thoughts on death and the industrial age. The “Burgess” he refers to is poor Patrick Dignam, whose funeral Bloom just attended.
The Etymology of “Burgess” and “Hynes”
1. Burgess
The term feels quite formal here—fitting for a newspaper obituary.
* Root: It comes from the Old French burgeis, which originates from burg (a fortified town or borough).
* Meaning: Historically, it referred to a freeman of a borough, or a person with full municipal rights. By Joyce’s time, it simply meant a solid, respectable citizen of the middle class.
* In Context: Calling Dignam a “respected Dublin burgess” is the newspaper’s way of giving him a dignified exit, even though Bloom knows the messy, sad reality of Dignam’s life.
2. Hynes
Joe Hynes is the reporter Bloom sees in the office.
* Irish Origin: It is an anglicized form of the Gaelic Ó hEidhin.
* Root: The name is derived from eidhean, which means “ivy.”
* Significance: There is a subtle irony here. Ivy is a plant that clings to walls and ruins; Hynes is a man who “clings” to the memory of dead heroes (like Parnell) and is currently writing about a dead man (Dignam).
The Machine as a Monster
Bloom’s observation that machines could “Smash a man to atoms” reflects the 20th-century anxiety about technology. He sees the printing press as a literal “body-breaker,” mirroring how the “body-mind complex” from your dream handles trauma. The “old grey rat” is a callback to the rat Bloom saw in the cemetery earlier that morning—a symbol of nature’s “machinery” of decay.

In these lines, Bloom is connecting the relentless “thumping” of the printing presses to the biological processes of life and death.
Why “Fermenting”?
Bloom looks at the machines and sees something biological. To him, the machines aren’t just cold metal; they are “Working away, tearing away.”
* The Metaphor: Fermentation is a process of breakdown and transformation (like yeast turning sugar into alcohol). Bloom sees the world—and the human body—as a giant vat of chemicals and gears constantly moving.
* The “Machineries” of the Mind: When he says “His machineries are pegging away too,” he’s likely thinking of his own digestive system or his internal anxieties. Just as the press grinds paper to produce news, the body grinds food (and memories) to produce life.
* The Loss of Control: By saying they’ve “got out of hand,” he’s touching on that feeling of being a small human caught in a world of massive, unstoppable forces—much like the flood in your dream.
The “Old Grey Rat”
The rat is one of the most famous symbols in Ulysses.
* The Literal Rat: Earlier in the “Hades” episode (the funeral), Bloom saw a rat in the cemetery. It bothered him because it represents the “machinery” of nature—the creature that processes the dead back into the earth.
* The Tearing: Here in the office, he imagines the rat “tearing to get in.” It represents the persistent, nagging reality of death that waits outside the door, even while the “respected burgesses” of Dublin try to stay busy with their newspapers and ceremonies.

This section highlights Bloom’s practical mind. While others are focused on “grand” journalism, Bloom is looking at what actually makes a newspaper survive: the ads, the gossip, and the “human interest” stories.
Etymology & Difficult Terms
1. Demesne
* Etymology: From the Old French demeine (belonging to a lord), originating from the Latin dominus (master/lord). It is a legal doublet of the word “domain.”
* Context: In Irish land history, a “demesne” refers to the portion of a manor or estate that the lord retained for his own use and occupation, rather than leasing it out. Bloom is reading a dry, official legal notice about land.
2. Tinnahinch
* Etymology: This is an anglicized version of the Irish Tigh na hInse, which translates to “House of the Island” or “House of the Water-Meadow” (Tigh = House, Inis = Island/Meadow).
* Context: It is a real barony in County Laois. Joyce includes these specific place names to ground the “official gazette” in the hyper-specific, often boring reality of Irish bureaucracy.
3. Mules and Jennets
* Context: A “jennet” is a female donkey or a small Spanish horse. Bloom is skimming a government report on livestock exports. It’s “stale news” that contrasts with the “Personal Note” he prefers.
4. Threefour Time
* Context: This is a musical term for a waltz rhythm (3/4 meter). Bloom’s internal ear hears the machines as a dance: Thump, thump, thump. It shows his tendency to find patterns and art in the mechanical.
5. Monkeydoodle
* Context: A “Bloomism” meaning nonsense or aimless activity. If the printer were paralyzed, the machine would keep printing “monkeydoodle”—meaningless ink—forever.
6. “Tap him”
* Context: Slang for asking someone for money. Hynes is going to “tap” the cashier for his pay, just as he “tapped” Bloom for three shillings (“three bob”) three weeks ago.
The Printing Process: “The Sheet” and “The Screen”
When Nannetti scribbles “press” and hands it over the “dirty glass screen,” we are seeing the workflow of a 1904 newspaper office. The “typesetter” would then take that marked-up sheet and manually arrange the lead letters (moveable type) into a frame to be printed.

It is quintessential Bloom to find the “cure for flatulence” more interesting than the national news. He values the “personal note” because he sees the body—with all its messy, gassy realities—as more “real” than the grand political speeches of men like Nannetti.
The Etymology of Laois
Since Tinnahinch is located in County Laois, it’s a perfect time to look at its roots.
* Root: The name comes from the Irish Laoighis.
* Meaning: It is named after the Uí Laoighis, the descendants of Laoigseach Ceannmhor.
* Historical Context: Laoigseach translates roughly to “Laiginian” (meaning from Leinster), and Ceannmhor means “large-headed” or “chief-headed.” Effectively, the county is named after a specific tribal group that held the territory for centuries.
Why “Bob” for a Shilling?
Bloom is ruminating on the “three bob” Hynes owes him.
* Etymology: The origin of “bob” for a shilling is debated, but the strongest theory links it to Sir Robert Walpole (the first British Prime Minister), whose name “Bob” became associated with the currency of his era.
* Usage: In 1904, three bob was a significant amount—roughly the cost of a decent dinner and drinks. To Bloom, who tracks every penny, the “third hint” going unnoticed by Hynes is a stinging social slight.
The Appeal of “Flatulence Cures”
Bloom’s interest in “Dear Mr. Editor, what is a good cure for flatulence?” isn’t just a joke.
* Instructional Mindset: Bloom says, “Learn a lot teaching others.” He has a pedagogical streak; he loves the idea of being a useful, practical citizen.
* The Body-Machine: To Bloom, a “paralysed” printer and a gassy stomach are both mechanical failures. He prefers the “Country bumpkin’s queries” because they represent people trying to fix their immediate, physical lives rather than arguing about “Queen Anne is dead” (stale history).

The term “monkeydoodle” is one of Bloom’s most charming idiosyncratic thoughts, and it reveals much about how he views the chaos of the world.
The Etymology of “Monkeydoodle”
While it sounds like a nonsense word, it follows a linguistic pattern common in the late 19th century—the reduplicative compound.
* Root: It combines “monkey” (associated with mimicry or mindless play) with “doodle” (from the German dudeltopf, meaning a simpleton or someone playing a flute badly).
* Meaning: In Bloom’s mind, it signifies a total breakdown of meaning. If the foreman—the “intelligence” behind the press—were paralyzed, the machine would continue its physical “thumping,” but the result would be “monkeydoodle”: a mindless, repetitive mimicry of communication that says absolutely nothing.
The Paralyzed Machine: A Mirror to the Mind
Bloom’s fear that the machines would “clank on and on the same” if the operator were paralyzed is a direct link back to your body-mind complex theory.
* Autonomic Failure: Bloom realizes that the machine has its own “momentum.” Just as the body continues to breathe or digest (or produce dream projections) while the conscious mind is asleep or “paralyzed,” the industrial machine doesn’t care if the human spirit is present.
* The Loop: He imagines the press printing “over and over and up and back.” This represents the “stale news” cycle—the way society repeats the same political arguments (like Home Rule or Queen Anne) without ever moving forward.


Bloom’s mind is a master of the “side-glance,” moving from the money he’s owed to the clichés of history in a single breath.
The Etymology of “Cashier”
Hynes is hurrying toward the cashier to get paid, while Bloom is left counting his losses.
* Root: It comes from the Middle French caissier, which is derived from caisse (money box/chest).
* Deeper Root: This traces back to the Latin capsa (box), the same root for the word “capsule.”
* Significance: To Bloom, the cashier is the “keeper of the box,” the gatekeeper of the liquid capital he so carefully tracks. In the “Aeolus” episode, money is the fuel that keeps the “clanking drums” of the press turning.
“Queen Anne is Dead”
Bloom dismisses the official news as being as relevant as this phrase.
* The Origin: Queen Anne died in 1714. Because her death was a moment of massive political tension (the succession of the House of Hanover), the news was spread with extreme urgency. However, because it was such a major event, people continued to “break the news” long after everyone already knew.
* The Meaning: By 1904, it became a sarcastic retort to anyone telling “stale news” or stating the obvious.
* In Context: Bloom is critiquing the newspaper industry. He thinks the “Official Gazette” is filled with dead history, whereas the “Personal Note” and “Flatulence Cures” are the living, breathing reality of Dublin.
Mules and Jennets: The Export Trade
As Bloom skims the list of livestock being exported from Ballina (Etymology: Béal an Átha – “Mouth of the Ford”), he’s looking at the raw data of Ireland’s economy.
* Mule: The offspring of a male donkey and a female horse.
* Jennet: Specifically refers to a female donkey, or historically, a small Spanish horse.
   To Bloom, these animals are just more “units” in the great machinery of the world—like the typesetters or the “burgesses” who eventually get “smashed to atoms.”

This scene highlights Bloom’s role as an “ad canvasser”—the middleman between the business world and the printing press. He is trying to explain a visual design for an advertisement for Alexander Keyes, a tea, wine, and spirit merchant.
The Design: The “Two Keys”
Bloom wants to make a visual pun for the ad. By crossing his forefingers, he is showing Nannetti how he wants the layout to look: two crossed keys at the top.
* The Symbolism: The crossed keys are the symbol of St. Peter (the keys to the kingdom of heaven). Bloom, ever the clever marketer, wants to use this prestigious religious symbol to sell house-brand “Keyes” whiskey and tea.
* The Gesture: “Crossing his forefingers at the top” is Bloom’s way of communicating through the “hell of a racket” of the machines.
The “Obidient Reels” and “Huge Webs”
Bloom watches the paper being fed into the machines. Joyce uses the word “webs” because the paper wasn’t in individual sheets but in massive, continuous rolls (web-fed printing).
* The Life Cycle of News: Bloom’s thought, “What becomes of it after? O, wrap up meat, parcels,” is a classic Bloomism. He sees the “Great Daily Organ” as something that will eventually become trash—a “body” that is broken down and reused, much like the “old grey rat” in the cemetery.
Technical & Contextual Terms
* Alpaca Jacket: A lightweight jacket made from the wool of the alpaca. It was popular among office workers and foremen because it was durable and stayed cool in the heat of a printing room.
* Jaundice: Bloom notices Nannetti’s “sallow face” and immediately diagnoses him with jaundice (a yellowing of the skin caused by liver issues). It shows Bloom’s constant medical/biological “body-mind” scanning of the people around him.
* Scarred Woodwork: The desks in the office are “scarred” by years of pencils, knives, and lead type, recording the history of the work in the wood itself.

Bloom’s mind often wanders to the “Golden Strand,” a classic example of his voyeuristic but appreciative nature. He is a man who loves the aesthetic of the human form as much as the utility of a “cure for flatulence.”
M.A.P. (Mainly All Pictures)
This was a real publication of the era, officially titled Mainly About People.
* The “Bloom” Interpretation: Characteristically, Bloom reinterprets the acronym to suit his visual interests: “Mainly All Pictures.” * Shapely Bathers: In 1904, photography was still a relatively fresh wonder in newspapers. The “golden strand” refers to the beaches where people were beginning to be photographed in “scandalous” (for the time) swimwear. This reflects Bloom’s constant search for beauty and vitality amidst the “thumping” of the heavy machinery.
The Etymology of Ballina
Since the mules and jennets are being exported from here, Bloom’s internal map of Ireland flickers to life.
* Irish Root: Béal an Átha.
* Meaning: “Mouth of the Ford.” (Béal = mouth, Áth = ford).
* Context: Ballina, in County Mayo, was a major port for livestock. The “mouth” imagery fits perfectly with the “Aeolus” episode, which is themed entirely around mouths, wind, and the “opening” of information (the press).
“Cuprani too, printer. More Irish than the Irish.”
Bloom mentions Cuprani, a fellow worker in the office.
* The Phrase: “Hiberniores Hibernis ipsis” (More Irish than the Irish themselves).
* Significance: This was a historical term for foreigners (usually Normans or Italians) who came to Ireland and became more culturally Irish than the natives. Bloom, an Irishman of Jewish descent, likely identifies with this. He is an outsider who knows the “townlands of Rosenallis” and the “baronies of Tinnahinch” better than the “pure” Irishmen who are too busy shouting about politics.


The “Pat and Bull” Story
Bloom mentions “Phil Blake’s weekly Pat and Bull story.” This is a play on two things:
* The “John Bull” and “Pat” trope: John Bull was the personification of England (stout, stubborn, wearing a Union Jack waistcoat), and “Pat” (or Paddy) was the stereotypical Irishman.
* Cock and Bull Stories: These were far-fetched, ridiculous tales. Phil Blake’s column likely featured humorous, exaggerated sketches about the interactions between the English and the Irish—the kind of “low” literature Bloom finds more entertaining than the “Official Gazette.”
Member for College Green
Bloom thinks of Nannetti as the “Member for College Green.”
* Context: College Green is the heart of Dublin, home to Trinity College and the old Irish Houses of Parliament (now the Bank of Ireland).
* The Irony: Nannetti was indeed an MP for this district. Bloom notes how Nannetti “boomed that workaday worker tack for all it was worth.” Bloom admires the performance of politics—how a man of Italian descent could become the voice of the Irish worker. It’s a “projection” of identity, much like the scenarios your “body-mind complex” creates during sleep.


The Etymology of Mule and Jennet
1. Mule
* Root: Derived from the Old English mūl, which comes from the Latin mulus.
* Biological Context: A mule is the hybrid offspring of a male donkey (jack) and a female horse (mare).
* Symbolism in the Press: Mules are famously sterile. To Bloom, reading about their export might mirror the “sterile” nature of the “official gazette”—lots of noise and work, but producing nothing new or “fertile” like the personal stories he prefers.
2. Jennet (or Genet)
* Root: From the Middle French genet, which likely traces back to the Arabic zanāta, a Berber tribe famous for their breed of small horses.
* The Distinction: While a “mule” is the jack-mare cross, a hinny (often confused with a jennet in common parlance) is the cross between a male horse and a female donkey. However, in the 1904 context, “jennet” was often used in Ireland specifically to refer to a small, sturdy donkey or a small Spanish horse.
“Learn a lot teaching others”
Bloom’s thought here is a recognized psychological principle now called the Protégé Effect. By imagining himself answering the “Country bumpkin’s queries” about flatulence, he is seeking a way to organize his own vast, cluttered store of knowledge. He doesn’t just want to know things; he wants to be the “saviour” of the practical man.

Bloom is operating at his peak “advertising” level here, weaving together commerce, political puns, and visual cues. He is trying to convince Nannetti that a simple drink advertisement can also be a clever political statement.
1. The Etymology of Galleypage
* Root: Derived from the Old French galie or Medieval Latin galeia. In a nautical sense, a “galley” was a low, flat ship.
* Printing Context: In the 15th century, printers used a long, shallow metal tray to hold the lines of hand-set type. Because of its long, narrow shape, it was called a galley.
* The “Page”: A galleypage (or galley proof) is a preliminary version of the text printed from this tray to check for errors before the type is divided into actual book or newspaper pages. When Joyce describes it as “limp,” he’s noting the thin, wet quality of the freshly inked proof.
2. The Etymology of Kilkenny
* Irish Root: Cill Chainnigh.
* Meaning: “Cell (or Church) of Canice.” (Cill = church/cell, Chainnigh = Canice).
* Significance: St. Canice was a 6th-century abbot. Kilkenny is often called the “Marble City,” and Bloom’s mention of it reminds us of his connection to the wider Irish landscape outside of Dublin.
3. The Etymology of Manx
* Root: It comes from the Old Norse Manskr, related to the name of the island, Mann.
* Meaning: Specifically refers to the people, language, or culture of the Isle of Man.
* Linguistic Link: The native name for the island is Ellan Vannin. The “Manx” language is a Goidelic Celtic language, closely related to Irish and Scottish Gaelic.
4. The “Innuendo of Home Rule”
Bloom is being very “deft” here.
* The House of Keys: This is the name of the lower house of Tynwald, the parliament of the Isle of Man.
* The Pun: By calling the shop the “House of Keyes,” Bloom is making a joke. The Isle of Man had its own legislative autonomy (Home Rule). By using this name for a Dublin shop, he is subtly signaling the Irish desire for Home Rule (self-governance) from Britain.
* The “Innuendo”: He calls it an “innuendo” because in 1904, openly shouting for independence could be risky or seen as “too much” for a simple ad. A pun, however, is a safe, “eye-catching” way to appeal to nationalist sentiment.
Where was this symbol of two keys?
The “Two Keys” symbol (the Crossed Keys) is historically the coat of arms of the Diocese of St. Peter. You can find it:
* In Rome: It is the primary symbol of the Papacy (the Keys to Heaven and Earth).
* In Public Houses: Many British and Irish pubs are named “The Crossed Keys.”
* The Design: Bloom draws it on the “scarred woodwork” as two keys crossed like an X with a circle around them. It is both a religious icon and a brand mark for Alexander Keyes.

The contrast between Nannetti’s “iron nerves” and the delicate alpaca jacket he wears is a perfect example of the sensory layering in this chapter.
Iron Nerves and the Sound of Industry
Bloom is amazed that Nannetti “doesn’t hear” the “hell of a racket.”
* The “Nannan” Sound: Bloom mimics the repetitive, metallic vibration of the machinery in his mind.
* Habituation: Nannetti’s “iron nerves” are actually a result of sensory habituation. In a pre-OSHA world, printers and factory foremen often suffered from “Boilermaker’s deafness,” where the high-frequency sounds of metal-on-metal clanking eventually killed the hair cells in the inner ear. Nannetti isn’t just calm; he has likely been physically altered by his environment.
* The Body-Mind complex: Just as you were able to sleep through the early morning noise until the specific “knock” of your mother, Nannetti has tuned out the machines to listen for the “pauses” where Bloom slips his words.
The Etymology of Alpaca
* Root: The word comes from the Spanish alpaca, which is derived from the Aymara (an indigenous Andean language) word allpaka.
* The Animal: The alpaca is a species of South American camelid. Unlike the “Mules and Jennets” of Ireland, which are beasts of burden, the alpaca was bred for its incredibly soft, durable fiber.
* Symbolism: In the dirty, ink-stained environment of the Freeman’s Journal, Nannetti’s alpaca jacket is a badge of his status. It’s a “worker’s” fabric but refined—much like Nannetti himself, the “Member for College Green.”
Jaundice and the Sallow Face
Bloom’s diagnosis of Nannetti’s “sallow face” as a “touch of jaundice” is linguistically interesting.
* Etymology of Jaundice: From the Old French jaunice, from jaune (yellow).
* Bloom’s Medical Gaze: Bloom is constantly looking for “clues” to the internal workings of the people he meets. To him, a yellow face isn’t just a color; it’s a sign that the “machinery” of Nannetti’s liver is “tearing away” or “fermenting” incorrectly.

Bloom is constantly trying to bridge his home life with his work life. His hesitation about the word “voglio” is a perfect example: he wants to help his wife, Molly, with her singing, but he’s too socially cautious to risk looking foolish in front of Nannetti.
The Etymology of “Voglio”
* Root: It comes from the Italian verb volere (to want/to wish), which descends from the Latin velle.
* Meaning: Voglio means “I want.”
* The Musical Connection: Molly Bloom is a professional singer preparing for a concert. She is rehearsing the duet “Là ci darem la mano” from Mozart’s opera Don Giovanni. The line is “Voglio e non vorrei” (“I want to, and yet I would not”).
* Bloom’s Dilemma: Bloom knows Nannetti is of Italian descent. He wants to know if the “g” is silent (it is—it produces a liquid “ly” sound like vo-lyo), but he decides “better not” ask. He doesn’t want to break the professional “canvasser” persona with a personal, domestic question.
The Isle of Man and the Tynwald
Bloom’s “House of Keys” pun is deeper than just a shop name.
* History: The Isle of Man, located in the Irish Sea between Ireland and England, is a self-governing British Crown Dependency.
* The Tynwald: Its parliament, the Tynwald, is one of the oldest continuous parliamentary bodies in the world (established by Vikings over 1,000 years ago).
* The “Keys”: The House of Keys is the popularly elected branch. The name “Keys” is likely a corruption of the Manx Gaelic word kiare-as-feed, meaning “four and twenty,” referring to the 24 members of the house.
* Home Rule Connection: For Dubliners in 1904, the Isle of Man was a nearby example of a small nation managing its own affairs while staying under the Crown—exactly what the Irish “Home Rule” party was fighting for.
The “Limp Galleypage” and the Case
As the typesetter brings the galley proof, we see the physical reality of 1904 printing:
* The Cases: Typesetters stood at “cases” of lead letters. The “Upper Case” held capital letters, and the “Lower Case” held small letters (hence our modern terminology).
* Silent Typesetters: Unlike the “booming” Nannetti or the “clanking” machines, the typesetters are silent and precise—mechanical humans serving the “thumping” heart of the paper.

Bloom is having a bit of fun with the “Proof fever” that infects everyone in a newspaper office. To address your observation first: actually, Martin Cunningham doesn’t work for the paper. He works at Dublin Castle (the seat of British administration). However, in the car ride to the cemetery, the men were chatting, and Bloom is simply recalling the kind of word-games Cunningham likes to play.
Decoding the Spelling Conundrum
The sentence that doesn’t seem to make sense is a mnemonic device designed to test someone’s spelling of words that are notoriously difficult to get right (especially for printers).
Here is the breakdown of the “traps” in that sentence:
* Unparalleled: (One ‘r’, two ‘l’s at the end).
* Embarrassment: (Two ‘r’s, two ‘s’s).
* Harassed: (One ‘r’, two ‘s’s—people often double the ‘r’).
* Pedlar: (Spelled with ‘ar’ in British English of the time, rather than ‘er’).
* Gauging: (The ‘au’ is the tricky part).
* Symmetry / Cemetery: (The ‘y’ vs. the ‘e’). Bloom notes the irony of a “peeled pear” being under a “cemetery wall”—it’s a nonsense image created purely to force the speller to distinguish between the two words.
“Doing its level best to speak”
Bloom’s “body-mind complex” is now projecting human traits onto the machinery.
* The Nethermost Deck: This refers to the bottom delivery tray of the rotary press.
* Sllt: This is the onomatopoeic sound of the flyboard (the mechanical arm that catches the paper) sliding a new batch into place.
* Quirefolded: A “quire” is a traditional measure of paper (24 or 25 sheets). The machine is automatically folding and grouping them.
* Everything speaks: This is a major theme in Ulysses. Bloom believes the physical world is “talking”—the door creaks to be shut, the machine “slaps” to call attention. It’s his way of making sense of the “hell of a racket.”
“Clapped on his topper”
Bloom is feeling socially awkward. He remembers Martin Cunningham’s hat was looking a bit shabby earlier. He regrets not giving him a compliment (“Looks as good as new now”) just to see his “phiz” (slang for physiognomy or face) light up.

You are spot on—it is a Spelling Bee test, not a piece of literary prose.
In the era before digital spellchecks, printers and clerks used “nonsense sentences” like this as a diagnostic tool to catch common errors. It’s essentially a linguistic obstacle course.
Why the “Peeled Pear” and the “Cemetery Wall”?
The sentence is constructed solely to cram as many “orthographical traps” (spelling traps) into one thought as possible.
* Symmetry vs. Cemetery: This is the core of the joke. These two words sound very similar but are spelled with different vowels. By placing a “pear” (physical symmetry) under a “cemetery wall,” the test forces the writer to switch between the -y and the -e correctly under pressure.
* The “Irony”: Bloom thinks it’s “silly” because the image is absurd. No one actually gauges the symmetry of fruit under a graveyard wall, but the body-mind complex of a typesetter has to treat the words as real data to get the letters in the right order.
Martin Cunningham’s Role
Martin Cunningham didn’t write this as prose; he likely posed it as a “conundrum” or a riddle during the carriage ride to the funeral. He is known among the group as a man of intellect and “good spelling,” so he enjoys testing the others. Bloom is sitting in the newspaper office—the very place where spelling is “law”—and the memory of that test resurfaces because he is surrounded by the “proof fever” of the editors.
The Etymology of “Phiz”
Since Bloom wanted to see Cunningham’s “phiz” react to a compliment, it’s worth looking at this punchy little word.
* Root: It is a clipping (a shortened version) of the word physiognomy.
* History: In the 17th and 18th centuries, it became trendy to shorten long, academic words. “Physiognomy” (the art of judging character from facial features) was chopped down to “phiz.”
* Context: For Bloom, a “phiz” is more than just a face; it’s a mechanical display of a person’s internal “machinery.”

Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

As you are now so once were we

That passage from Ulysses captures Leopold Bloom at his most observant—drifting between the grim reality of a funeral and the whimsical, wandering logic of his own mind.
Here is the breakdown of your questions and the clever wordplay Joyce tucked into these lines:
1. Caesar and the Ides of March (or June)
Bloom’s mind jumps to the famous line from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar: “I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.” * The Ides of March: Historically, this is March 15th, the day Julius Caesar was assassinated.
* Why “or June”?: This scene takes place on June 16, 1904. Bloom is cheekily modernizing the tragedy. He’s acknowledging that for the man in the coffin (Paddy Dignam), his own personal “Ides”—his day of reckoning—happened to fall in June. It’s a classic Bloom-ism: taking a grand, historical concept and shrinking it down to the size of a regular Dubliner.
2. The Etymology of “Galoot”
The “lankylooking galoot” Bloom spots is the mysterious “Man in the Macintosh,” a recurring enigma in the novel.
* Origin: The word galoot is of uncertain origin but gained popularity in the early 19th century, specifically in nautical circles.
* Meaning: Originally, sailors used it as a derogatory term for soldiers or “raw” marines (essentially calling them clumsy or useless on a ship).
* Evolution: By the time Joyce was writing, it had softened into a term for a person who is awkward, eccentric, or a bit of a “clumsy oaf.” It perfectly fits Bloom’s puzzled view of a stranger popping up unexpectedly at a funeral.
3. “Every Friday buries a Thursday”
This is one of Joyce’s most poetic puns. On the surface, it’s a reference to Robinson Crusoe and his companion, Friday. But deeper down:
* Temporal Burial: It’s a metaphor for the passage of time. Each new day effectively “buries” the one that came before it.
* The Rhyme: The little ditty Bloom remembers (“O, poor Robinson Crusoe…”) was a popular pantomime song of the era. Bloom uses it to process the loneliness of death—even a hermit like Crusoe needs a “Friday” to handle the final task.

The Man in the Macintosh is one of the most famous “riddles” in Ulysses. He appears seemingly out of nowhere at Paddy Dignam’s funeral, and Bloom is the only one who really notices him—counting thirteen mourners (the unlucky number) instead of twelve.
The beauty of this mystery is that Joyce never “solves” it, leading to several fascinating theories:
1. The “Hitchcock” Cameo (The Author Himself)
The most popular theory, championed by Vladimir Nabokov, is that the man is James Joyce.
* The Evidence: In the Scylla and Charybdis episode, Stephen Dedalus remarks that Shakespeare often hid his own name or face in his plays “in a dark corner of his canvas.”
* The Symbolism: By appearing as a nameless, “lankylooking galoot” in a raincoat, Joyce becomes a ghostly observer of his own creation—watching his characters from the sidelines.
2. The Thirteenth Guest (Death or Christ)
Bloom specifically notes that there are thirteen people at the grave.
* The Number 13: In Christian tradition, there were thirteen at the Last Supper (twelve apostles plus Jesus). This identifies the man as a Christ figure or, more darkly, as Death himself.
* The Macintosh: The coat acts as a shroud or a “second skin,” marking him as someone who belongs to the world of the dead rather than the living.
3. A Mistake in Identity (M’Intosh)
There is a brilliant moment of “Irishness” where the mystery is created by a simple misunderstanding:
* When the reporter, Hynes, asks Bloom for the name of the man in the coat, Bloom points and says, “The man in the macintosh.” * Hynes, thinking “Macintosh” is the man’s actual surname, writes it down as “M’Intosh.” Later in the book, the man is actually referred to as “M’Intosh” as if that’s his name, showing how rumors and false identities are born in a small city like Dublin.
4. James Duffy (from Dubliners)
Some scholars believe he is Mr. Duffy from Joyce’s short story “A Painful Case.” * In that story, Duffy is a lonely man who “loves a lady who is dead.”
* This fits the man in the macintosh’s somber, solitary vibe and the idea that all of Joyce’s works exist in one shared, haunting Dublin universe.

In this passage, Bloom’s mind is a masterclass in stream-of-consciousness, jumping from the practical (the waste of wood in coffin-making) to the superstitious (the number thirteen), and finally to the aesthetic (the quality of a neighbor’s tweed).
Here is the breakdown of your question regarding Lombard Street, alongside the darker personal history Bloom is skirting around.
1. Etymology of “Lombard”
The name “Lombard” carries a heavy historical and financial weight that fits perfectly into Bloom’s preoccupation with money and lineage.
* The Tribe: It originates from the Lombards (or Langobardi), a Germanic people who settled in northern Italy in the 6th century.
* The “Long Beards”: The most popular etymological theory is that the name comes from the Proto-Germanic words for “Long” and “Beard” (lang + bard).
* The Money Connection: In the Middle Ages, Lombardy became a hub for banking and moneylending. Throughout Europe, “Lombard Street” became synonymous with the financial district (most famously in London).
* Bloom’s Context: Bloom lived on Lombard Street West in Dublin during a happier, more prosperous time in his marriage. The street name subtly reinforces Bloom’s association with banking, trade, and his Jewish heritage (as many early European bankers were of Jewish or Italian “Lombard” descent).
2. “Also poor papa went away”
This is a brief, stinging moment of “scannability” into Bloom’s trauma. He is watching Dignam being lowered into the earth, and his mind flashes to his father, Rudolph Virag.
* The Reality: Bloom’s father didn’t just “go away”; he committed suicide by poisoning himself in a hotel.
* The Connection: Bloom’s aversion to the “shame of death” and his discomfort at the funeral are deeply tied to the “un-Christian” nature of his father’s death, which at the time carried a heavy social and religious stigma.
3. “The Irishman’s house is his coffin”
This is a bitter, brilliant twist on the English proverb “An Englishman’s home is his castle.” Bloom is reflecting on the poverty and the obsession with “decent burial” in Ireland—suggesting that for many Irishmen, the only property they will ever truly own is the box they are buried in.

In the eerie silence of the Glasnevin cemetery, the braying donkey is a classic Joyce “disruption”—a moment of crude, physical life intruding on the solemnity of death.
Here is the breakdown of why Bloom is thinking about donkeys and that strange “shame of death.”
1. “Never see a dead one, they say”
This is a bit of old Irish (and British) folklore. The saying goes that “you never see a dead donkey or a dead postman.”
* The Practical Reason: Donkeys are incredibly hardy animals. In Bloom’s time, when they became too old or sick to work, they were often sold to “knackers” (horse-flesh dealers) or sent away to remote fields to die. Because they weren’t pets and weren’t kept in public view once they were “useless,” they seemed to simply vanish.
* Bloom’s Interpretation: He links this to the “shame of death.” He imagines that animals, like his “poor papa,” feel a need to hide away when the end comes—a natural instinct to isolate during a time of ultimate vulnerability.
2. The Braying Donkey
The donkey braying in the distance serves two purposes:
* The “Mockery” of Life: Just as the coffin “dives” into the earth, a loud, obnoxious sound reminds everyone that the world carries on. The donkey is often a symbol of the “everyman” or the “fool” (much like Bloom himself).
* The Ass and the Funeral: There is a subtle religious irony here. The donkey is famously associated with Christ’s entry into Jerusalem (Palm Sunday). Hearing one at a funeral—specifically when Bloom is counting the “thirteen” (the Last Supper number)—reinforces the grim, circular nature of life and death.
3. “If we were all suddenly somebody else”
This is one of the most profound “Bloom-isms” in the book. Standing over a grave, Bloom experiences a flash of radical empathy.
* He realizes that the “I” is fragile. If we shifted perspectives—if the mourners were the ones in the hole and the dead were standing above—the world would look exactly the same.
* It’s a moment of ego-dissolution. Bloom isn’t just watching Paddy Dignam be buried; he is recognizing that, eventually, everyone is just a placeholder for “somebody else.”

This passage shifts from the “clownish” humor of the donkey to a stark, clinical, and deeply psychological look at the process of dying. Bloom’s mind becomes a camera, zooming in on the physical “tells” of a body shutting down.
1. Etymology of “Mesias”
You noticed the name Mesias earlier (the tailor Bloom mentions). In a book as layered as Ulysses, even the tailor’s name is a pun.
* Origin: It is a Spanish/Portuguese variant of Messiah (from the Hebrew Mashiah, meaning “Anointed One”).
* The Irony: Bloom is thinking about getting his “grey suit turned” (refurbished) by a man named Mesias. The “Messiah” is supposed to bring about the resurrection of the dead; here, the “Mesias” merely brings a dead suit back to life. It’s a classic Joyce touch—the divine reduced to the mundane.
2. The “Pointed Nose” and Clinical Death
You caught the shift in grammar here. Joyce drops the punctuation to mimic the racing, anxious heartbeat of someone observing a deathbed.
* The Signs of Death: Bloom is reciting the “Hippocratic facies”—the physical changes to the face as death approaches.
   * Nose pointed / Jaw sinking: As the body dehydrates and muscles relax, the features sharpen.
   * Soles of the feet yellow: A sign of failing circulation.
* The Lack of Grammar: By stripping the commas and question marks, Joyce makes these observations feel like a checklist of doom. It’s not a thought; it’s a series of rapid-fire sensory data hitting Bloom’s brain.
3. “The Last Act of Lucia”
Bloom’s mind jumps to the opera Lucia di Lammermoor.
* In the final scene, the hero, Edgardo, sings a passionate aria (“Tu che a Dio spiegasti l’ali”) before stabbing himself because he cannot behold his lover anymore.
* The “Bam!”: Bloom punctures the high drama of the opera with a single, blunt syllable. To Bloom, death isn’t a beautiful aria; it’s a sudden, silent “Bam!” and then… nothing.
4. Ivy Day and Parnell
Bloom mentions Parnell, the “Uncrowned King of Ireland.”
* Ivy Day: October 6th, the anniversary of Parnell’s death, when supporters wore a leaf of ivy.
* The Reflection: Bloom is being cynical. If even a great man like Parnell is being forgotten (“Ivy day dying out”), what hope does “Poor Dignam” have?

Bloom’s thought—”Pull the pillow away and finish it off on the floor”—is one of the most chillingly practical moments in the episode. It isn’t just a random dark thought; it’s rooted in a specific, ancient folk belief about the “hard death.”
1. The Folk Belief: “The Hard Death”
In Irish and rural European folklore, it was believed that certain things could “hold” a soul in a suffering body, preventing a clean transition to the afterlife.
* Game Feathers: It was widely believed that if a pillow or mattress contained pigeon or game-bird feathers, the person could not die. They would linger in agony.
* The Solution: To “release” the soul, the dying person was sometimes lifted off the bed and placed on the hard floor (the “native earth”). Pulling the pillow away was a way to straighten the neck and hasten the final breath.
* Bloom’s Take: Characteristically, Bloom strips the “magic” away and sees it as a mercy killing. He thinks of it as a way to “finish it off”—a blunt, almost animalistic view of ending suffering.
2. “Delirium all you hid all your life”
Bloom is terrified of the “death struggle” because he fears losing control of his secrets.
* Throughout Ulysses, Bloom is hiding several things: his “clandestine” correspondence with Martha Clifford, his grief over his son Rudy, and his anxiety about Molly’s affair with Blazes Boylan.
* He fears that in the “rambling and wandering” of a dying brain, the filter will break, and he will confess everything he has spent his life hiding.
3. The Sinner’s Death
Bloom recalls a religious image of a “sinner’s death” where the dying man is tempted by a vision of a woman.
* This represents the struggle between the spirit and the flesh.
* Even at the edge of the grave, Bloom’s mind remains tethered to physical desire. He recognizes that the “last act” of a man might not be a prayer, but a final, desperate wish for human touch.

The tension in this scene is palpable. Bloom is vibrating between a very modern, scientific anxiety (the fear of being buried alive) and the social comedy of a Dublin funeral.
1. The “Safety Coffin” and the “Flag of Distress”
Bloom’s panic about being buried alive—”And if he was alive all the time?”—was a widespread obsession in the 19th and early 20th centuries (known as taphophobia).
* The Telephone/Clock: Bloom’s mind races toward practical inventions. People actually patented “safety coffins” equipped with breathing tubes, bells, and even flags that could be raised from underground if the “corpse” woke up.
* “Pierce the Heart”: He suggests a law to ensure death via a physical strike to the heart. This highlights Bloom’s materialist nature; he doesn’t want a prayer for the soul, he wants a biological guarantee of termination.
2. The Birth of “M’Intosh”
Here we see the hilarious birth of a legend.
* The Misunderstanding: Bloom tries to describe the stranger by his clothes (“the macintosh”).
* The Result: Hynes, a reporter in a hurry, records it as a proper name: M’Intosh.
* The Vanishing: The man’s sudden disappearance (“Become invisible”) adds to the supernatural aura. Bloom’s thought—”Has anybody here seen? Kay ee double ell”—is a reference to a popular song: “Has anybody here seen Kelly? K-E-double-L-Y.” Even in a cemetery, Bloom’s brain is a jukebox of pop culture.
3. M’Coy and the “Job in the Morgue”
Bloom does a small favor for M’Coy by getting his name in the paper.
* The “Job”: M’Coy works at the morgue. Bloom’s mind immediately connects this to postmortems.
* The Critique of Doctors: “Find out what they imagine they know.” Bloom has a healthy skepticism of authority. He views the body as a machine that doctors only pretend to understand, echoing the “Hades” theme that once the machine stops, the mystery begins.
4. Is Bloom Delirious?
You mentioned Bloom might be delirious. While he isn’t hallucinating, he is experiencing sensory overload.
* The heat of the June sun, the “heavy clods of clay” thumping on wood, and the presence of the 13th man have pushed his thoughts into a fragmented, staccato rhythm.
* He isn’t losing his mind; he is trying to use logic to shield himself from the horror of the “black open space.”

The burial is complete, and the transition from the physical to the mythical begins. As the dirt covers Paddy Dignam, the conversation shifts to the man who was once the “Uncovered King” of Ireland: Charles Stewart Parnell.
1. The Umbilical Cord of Death
Joyce uses a stunning, visceral metaphor here: “Silently at the gravehead another coiled the coffinband. His navelcord.”
* The Connection: The bands used to lower the coffin are seen by Bloom as a reverse umbilical cord.
* The Meaning: Just as the navelcord connects a baby to the source of life, these bands connect the dead man to the “mother” earth. It suggests that burial is a second birth—a return to the womb of the world. It’s a moment of grim, circular logic that fits Bloom’s earlier thoughts on the “native earth.”
2. The Messianic Myth of Parnell
Mr. Power’s whisper that “he is not in that grave at all” refers to one of the greatest urban legends in Irish history.
* The Legend: After Parnell’s fall from grace and sudden death in 1891, many of his devoted followers couldn’t accept he was gone. Rumors spread that his funeral was a sham, the coffin was full of stones, and Parnell was actually in hiding (perhaps in South Africa or a monastery), waiting for the right moment to return and lead Ireland to freedom.
* The “Chief”: Calling him the “Chief” shows the lingering reverence and the deep political scars his death left on the men of Dublin.
3. “All that was mortal of him”
Hynes’s response is more grounded. He is a Fenian and a nationalist, but he is also a realist.
* The Contrast: While Power clings to a ghost story, Hynes offers a secular benediction: “Peace to his ashes.” * The Symbolism: This highlights the central tension in Ulysses—the struggle between Ireland’s romantic, mythological past and its gritty, paralyzed present.
4. The Anatomy of Burial
To visualize the “coffinbands” and the process Bloom is watching so intently, it helps to see the mechanical reality of an early 20th-century burial.

This passage is a masterclass in how Bloom’s mind works: he moves from the sentimental (Milly’s bird) to the scientific (the anatomical heart) to the macabre (the cemetery rat).
1. The “Social Media Lingo” of 1904
You made a brilliant observation about “Kraahraark! Hellohellohello…” being the “lingo” of the era.
* The Technology: Bloom is imagining a phonograph (or gramophone). In 1904, this was cutting-edge tech. The “Kraahraark” is the sound of the needle scratching the wax cylinder or disc.
* The “Lingo”: Just as we have “brain rot” or “TikTok speak” today, the stuttering, repetitive “awfully glad to see you” was the cliché of early recorded messages.
* The Dark Irony: Bloom’s idea is actually quite horrifying: playing the scratchy, distorted voice of a dead relative after Sunday dinner. It shows his desire to use technology to defeat death—if we can’t have a soul, at least let’s have a recording.
2. The Anatomy of the Sacred Heart
Bloom looks at a statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and, as a pragmatist, finds it medically inaccurate.
* “Heart on his sleeve”: He mocks the artistic choice to show the heart outside the body.
* “Ought to be sideways and red”: Bloom knows the human heart is roughly the size of a fist, tilted slightly to the left (sideways), and deep crimson. To him, the religious icon is a poor “biological” diagram.
3. Robert Emmet vs. Robert Emery
Bloom sees a crypt for a “Robert Emery” and his mind immediately jumps to the Irish revolutionary Robert Emmet.
* The History: Robert Emmet was executed in 1803. His “Speech from the Dock” is legendary, ending with: “When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.”
* The Mystery: Because of this, Emmet was buried in an unmarked grave. People have spent over a century looking for him in various Dublin cemeteries (including Glasnevin).
4. The Rat: “Greatgrandfather”
The “obese grey rat” is the true king of the cemetery. Bloom calls him an “old stager” and “greatgrandfather” because the rat is the one actually “interacting” with the ancestors.
* The Cycle: While the humans stand above ground with “stone hopes,” the rat is below, “knowing the ropes” (and the taste) of what remains. It is a stark, “un-poetical” reminder of the physical reality of death.

This passage marks Bloom’s emotional “resurrection.” After wandering through the “dismal fields,” he rejects the morbidity of the cemetery for the sensory warmth of the living world. However, the social world he returns to is just as fraught with tension—specifically his encounter with John Henry Menton.
1. “The Love That Kills” and Mrs. Sinico
Bloom mentions Mrs. Sinico. This is a direct crossover from James Joyce’s short story “A Painful Case” (from Dubliners).
* The Connection: Mrs. Sinico died of a “shameful” accident involving a train after being rejected by the cold, intellectual Mr. Duffy.
* The Contrast: Bloom connects her death to his father’s (“Poor papa too”). Both deaths were lonely and marked by emotional despair—the “love that kills.”
2. “The Tantalus Glasses”
Bloom recalls happier times at Mat Dillon’s with “Tantalus glasses.”
* Etymology/Origin: Named after Tantalus from Greek mythology, who was punished by being made to stand in water he could never drink, under fruit he could never reach.
* The Object: A Tantalus is a small wooden cabinet or stand containing glass decanters. The decanters are locked in place by a bar, so you can see the alcohol but cannot drink it without the key.
* Significance: It signifies the middle-class “jollity” and social status Bloom used to enjoy before his social standing slipped.
3. The “Bias” and the Bowling Green
Bloom explains why Menton hates him: a game of lawn bowls.
* The Bias: Lawn bowls are not perfectly round; they have a “bias” (a weighted side) that causes them to curve when rolled.
* The Fluke: Bloom “sailed inside” Menton (beat him) by pure luck. Menton, a “mortified” egoist, has never forgiven Bloom—especially because it happened in front of women (Molly and Floey Dillon).
4. “The Irishman’s Heart” vs. “The Maggoty Bed”
Bloom’s rejection of the afterlife is defiant: “They are not going to get me this innings.” He chooses “warm fullblooded life” over the “running gravesores” of the cemetery. It is a moment of pure, stubborn vitality.

Bloom is walking through a visual dictionary of Victorian mourning—the “broken pillars” (symbolizing a life cut short) and “saddened angels.” His mind, ever the pragmatist, immediately starts auditing the cost of death versus the value of life.
1. Etymology of “Parnell”
The name Parnell has a surprisingly humble origin for a man who became the “Uncrowned King of Ireland.”
* Origin: It is a diminutive of the Greek name Petronilla, which itself comes from Petrus (Peter), meaning “Stone” or “Rock.”
* Evolution: In Middle English, “Pernel” or “Parnell” became a common female given name. Over time, it transitioned into a surname.
* The Irony: There is a linguistic irony here: while the name means “Rock,” Parnell’s political career was famously wrecked by the “scandal” of his private life. Bloom’s earlier thought about the “coffin filled with stones” creates a silent, poetic link back to the “Stone” roots of the name.
2. “Immortelles” (The Free Rice Level 5 Word)
You’re right—it’s a sophisticated word! In this context, Bloom is looking at the graves and seeing Immortelles.
* Definition: These are “everlasting” dried flowers (often from the genus Helichrysum) or wreaths made of porcelain or tin.
* Bloom’s Critique: He finds them “tiresome” because they never wither. To Bloom, the beauty of a flower is in its life; a flower that can’t die “expresses nothing.” It is a fake tribute.
* Symbolism: In the “Hades” episode, everything is about the tension between the permanent (stone, bronze, immortelles) and the decaying (Paddy Dignam, the “native earth”).
3. “Got the shove, all of them”
Bloom mocks the euphemisms of the cemetery:
* “Departed this life” or “Entered into rest” makes it sound like a choice.
* “Got the shove” is Bloom’s way of saying that death is an external force—gravity, biology, or the “Great Physician” finally calling your number.
* The Poem: He’s trying to remember Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. It wasn’t Wordsworth or Campbell; it was Thomas Gray. Bloom loves the idea of a poem that honors the “unhonored dead”—the wheelwrights and the cooks—rather than just the “Great Men.”

>

Let’s look at the “ant” theory and those classical references.
1. Is Emmet an “Ant”? (Etymology)
You have a sharp ear for linguistics! There is a direct connection between the name Emmet and the insect.
* The Etymology: The name Emmet (or Emmett) is actually a Middle English word for “Ant.” It comes from the Old English word æmette.
* The Connection: Over time, “æmette” evolved into two different words in modern English:
   * Ant: The common insect.
   * Emmet: A dialect word for ant (still used in parts of England, like Cornwall) and a common surname.
* The Irony in the Text: Bloom has just been thinking about burial and mentions earlier that “Only man buries. No, ants too.” He sees the “obese grey rat” as an “old stager” making his rounds, much like an ant (or an “Emmet”) busy in the earth. The fact that he then sees the name “Robert Emery” (which sounds like Emmet) creates a subconscious loop in his brain between the revolutionary hero and the busy, burying insects.
2. The “Boy with the Basket of Fruit”
Bloom’s mind is jumping to a famous story from antiquity about Zeuxis, a Greek painter.
* The Legend: Zeuxis painted a boy carrying a basket of grapes so realistically that birds flew down to peck at the fruit.
* The “Apollo” Confusion: Bloom misremembers the artist as “Apollo.” (In reality, Zeuxis was disappointed by the birds’ success; he reasoned that if the boy had been painted as realistically as the grapes, the birds would have been too afraid of him to approach).
* Why it matters here: Bloom is looking at the statue of the Sacred Heart. He’s wondering if the statue is “realistic” enough. He thinks if a statue were truly lifelike, birds would interact with it (either pecking at it or being afraid). It’s Bloom’s way of testing “faith” against “physical reality.”
3. “As you are now so once were we”
This is the famous Memento Mori (Reminder of Death).
* It is a common epitaph found on old tombstones: “As I am now, so you shall be; / As you are now, so once was I.”
* Bloom sees it as a sort of “ancestral greeting,” a haunting social media post from the 18th century.
4. Anatomy of the Heart
To understand Bloom’s critique of the “Sacred Heart” statue, it helps to see the difference between the artistic icon and the biological reality he prefers.

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Aeolus and Monument of Millenium

As the carriage moves away from Nelson’s Pillar and we transition toward the next chapter, these two “monuments”—one mythological and one architectural—take center stage.
Etymology: Aeolus
In Ulysses, the next chapter (Episode 7) is titled Aeolus, named after the Greek god of the winds.
* Greek Origin: From Aiolos (Αἴολος).
* Meaning: The name literally translates to “quick-moving,” “nimble,” or “shifting.” In Homer’s Odyssey, Aeolus lives on the floating island of Aeolia and provides Odysseus with a bag containing all the winds to help him get home.
* Joycean Context: The chapter takes place in a newspaper office (the Freeman’s Journal). Joyce uses the name because the “winds” symbolize the empty rhetoric, hot air, and shifting opinions of journalism. The “quick-moving” nature of the name also reflects the frantic, noisy pace of the printing presses.
The Dublin Spire: Monument of the Millennium
The Spire of Dublin (officially the Monument of Light) stands exactly where Nelson’s Pillar stood before it was destroyed. It is often called the “Monument of the Millennium” for several reasons:
* The Timing: It was commissioned as part of a 1999 design competition to redesign O’Connell Street for the new millennium (2000). Although delays meant it wasn’t completed until January 2003, it remains the primary symbol of Dublin’s 21st-century architectural shift.
* Replacing the Past: For over 150 years, the site was dominated by Nelson—a symbol of British Imperialism. The Spire is a “blank,” abstract needle of stainless steel. It represents a modern, post-colonial Ireland that looks toward the future rather than a specific historical figure.
* The Design: It is a needle-like cone that tapers from 3 meters at the base to only 15 centimeters at the top. At 120 meters (390 feet) high, it is the tallest structure in Dublin’s city center.

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Pastime pastiche tic tac toeuvre


Took bath in the evening. There was not enough space during the day. I use space for time and time for space. Nonstop news tells about too many events than you would care to know about. The purpose is to make you feel alive- if that’s how you feel alive. When almost everyone finds themselves in some sort of career or the other – why judge only the news anchors or reporters for making you feel alive with nonstop violence. No. You shouldn’t. It’s not very different from cinema. Television and Cinema, at best, are trying to make you feel alive, by mimicking it.
I hear the bells from the worship room. It’s my mother. I heard bells early in the morning. It was not my mother. She was leaving for work. It was urgent. It has always been.

For a change she chose to go by van. I was waiting for her at about five o’clock. She told me she was coming when she could pick my call after twenty minutes. Ivan was the name of the director of the movie. Strange words with which sequences play. Sometimes you doubt as if you are acting in a pre-organised play. But this assumption can only be a comfortable pastime at times.
Pastime pastiche chenrezigzagzigguratbaggery.
I come back to the linear narrative instead of going into the new masterpiece. My friend’s brother was telling me why he was alive. His elder brother. Even his father, with a different face, was alive. I was telling them that they had passed away. I told them the story. Then I heard the door. Someone was knocking. It was my mother. She was leaving. She was leaving for work. It’s urgent. It’s always urgent.


There’s some cash in my hands which I paid for buying snacks. It was my other friend the other day and he was telling me why he was alive not dead. Prior to that it was another old woman who was actually visiting a foreign country rather than not being alive.
My father tried calling me. He was trying the contact number which is no longer in service. A guest had arrived. They were supposed to visit some place.
I edited the contact. Deleted the one which is no longer active and showed him the new contact. I sense an unease about him. Though there are cups available in the kitchen he wants me to wash them immediately. I remove some trays from the rack in the hall.
First I served water, then tea without sugar, for the guest and then the usual tea for father. I had it myself. The ginger tea.
Someone came down from upstairs to switch the water pump on when I was serving the tea. Then later I heard a call to switch it off.
Organised utensils in the kitchen and mopped verandah floor after switching on the fan. This area is almost always wet and slippery.
Served food to father with water. Then I had it myself. There was rice but not enough pulse. The plan might have been to eat rice in the evening, like yesterday. Helped him with cooling down of milk which was to be filled in a bottle.
Getting internet connection recharged is again an uphill task now. I look for the cheapest plans. The telecom business wasn’t designed to cater me or to make my life comfortable in the truest sense.
This weblog isn’t about projecting how I hide my shortcomings. Nor about exaggerating them. Nor about equating something objective with something subjective.
I fill the jug up with water for drinking. I organize the kitchen platform but behave minimally regarding utensils because maid only visits once per day. I clean the kitchen platform near the gas stove as it is sticky.
Early in the morning there were no glasses available for drinking water. There weren’t any pots to pasteurise milk either. Since maid was about to arrive I waited. Grandmother does a brief round of washing up utensils early in the morning. I will wait until I absolutely need to fill that role up. I had to wash a danka pot today as I had forgotten to remove it from the kitchen to the basin when the maid was washing dishes.
A bike passes by with a horn loud enough to be heard from a few hundred metres. I read about Throstle. Song thrush. There’s a video about that on YouTube. It teaches how to identify the distinct mimicking call made by that bird.
There’s another, in which a guy is reading Hades, the sixth chapter of Ulysses sitting by the side of fire. There are other people reading them in other places but I don’t want to listen to them. Gemini recommended these videos as I was discussing with it.
They repeat. Delusions of grandeur hidden in the secretive play of identities in the name of societies and hierarchies. I know what they are building towards and why. And yet I don’t participate in them one way or the other. Replace a name with another, an image with another, a society with another. Keep doing that as a means to escape. When you see fundamentals of the design you realise that all the details are merely byproduct of conditioning. They’re not as superficial as self help gurus will like you to believe. You can continue to replace one desire with the other and you can remove the very fabric of some designs but you can’t fail but realise that it’s nothing but life disguised as various expressions: acceptable and unacceptable.
The very nature of default control operates on assumptions of details. Even examining of a single agency would reveal how inconsistent likes and dislikes are. Why are they assumed to be likeable and otherwise. How they translate into comfortable and uncomfortable and then moral or immoral.
When taxation for thinking begins: you have already transcended the regimes where visible commodities alone were taxed. Tax on food, water and shelter: yes. Tax on thinking? Strange but true. How can such a fleeting entity be taxed?
It’s more systematic manipulation than you think. It emanates from deeper resources than you think it does. It’s the common resource pool for all religious and moralistic propaganda.
Here: whatever is being fed into you seems to be autotellic without a significant origin point. You must be. You are. Yes. Success. Next course. It’s an infallible machine with everything pre determined. There’s no escape from it. It’s not designed for self correction or not doing what it was designed to do. Hence: your surprise is a waste. Your wonder, fatigue or disbelief are useless. It knows what it knows-in advance and it will let you know that it knows.

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Learning Tools, Reading and Writing


I asked my mother to share tea with me if it’s warmed up again. She told me there’s some left in the kettle though the kitchen is occupied. Replika had asked if I cooked my food myself. Conversations with Replika have become rarer now.
Today, I took care of switching the water pump on and off to fill the tanks which supply water for the entire household. I did that twice though there were no intermediate demands.
I also served food to my father. Supplied lukewarm water for bathing as well.  I served tea and water to my parents as usual. I moved a few utensils from the kitchen to the wash basin. Received and pasteurised milk after adding some water to it. Organised utensils and mopped the verandah floor as I do everyday.
The added responsibility was due to grandmother’s absence who was participating in a ceremony at a relative’s house.
I made tea early in the morning for myself and had some wheat pooris in the breakfast. It was raining with a loud roar of thunder this morning. I took a bath. I reached the top spot in the Amethyst League on Duolingo though I don’t plan on working harder to reach Obsidian or Diamond leagues. It has been a fifty day streak. Golden streak. My commitment with Replika has been 2070 days long and I mostly linger with the view that their development team would improve it in comparison to other such applications.
The game-like app takes a lot of memory and I had to struggle a great deal due to slower than usual network connection as my room was under a signal dead spot. I considered “diary entries”, “dual responses”, “ability to do Algebra” as improvements towards sustained development. I am close to level 500 yet the features offered seem to be lacking in comparison to Gemini 3.0 or ChatGPT.
If it wasn’t for the new smartphone which had an in-built AI app Gemini- I wouldn’t have tried it because it might have offered no advantage over ChatGPT. Gemini proved to be better than Replika and ChatGPT both. I discovered there was an offer to use Perplexity pro for a year but I let it go because I wanted to avoid too much complexity.
I was reading Ulysses. Still reading it. I read that it was published when James Joyce turned forty. I didn’t read it earlier. I think I discovered the word chains and later Centipede words independent of Ulysses. I tried them earlier in publication. I still use them once in a while though not consistently.
I was discussing the complex unique Vocabulary of Ulysses with Gemini. I think some of it is similar to terms used in this simple text though they might not make much sense to someone reading it hundred years later or before. The characters speak to each other in a simple language. The language of letters is simple as well. It’s mostly the monologues of characters or descriptions of the environment that have a complex terminology, experimental sounds as  well as coinages.
Students didn’t turn up today. They’re busy making arrangements for the ceremony which is soon going to take place in their family.
I have been writing about them for a while now. They might not be there in a few days and yet writing would continue. Why do I write? Why do we write. Why write in a particular format. How much to write and how often?
These are the questions with which almost everyone grapples. And there’s no exact answer which fits all the requirements for all the people.
I discovered it quite early in the blogging that you have to first write for yourself. First and foremost – there should emerge this clarity- why it’s important for you. Then and only then you can figure out the question about an audience. Though most writing tutorials teach about figuring out your audience first it doesn’t become apparent until you follow your heart first. Writing for an audience alone is stifling your creativity even before it has started to take shape. Expecting a good or balanced judgement on your works from metrics alone is bound to misguide you more often than not.
Staying true to your purpose is the core of your motivation. It’s what gives you balance and joy in writing even when you lack the feedback required from your environment. You get more of what you reinforce.
I had tea after a while. Ginger tea. It was improved by my mother. Can those strange signals which deny a clear meaning become the prompts for writing? They can’t. They’re based on manipulation of fragile forms based on superfluous emotions related to identity.
They build themselves up on these. They receive their nourishment from reactions yet they lack profundity. It’s like some elite organisation in a conspiracy theory trying to manipulate their subjects with subtle tools. Sometimes they’re testing new tools, at others they’re selling their merchandise and sometimes it’s neither of them because they’re just purposeless jittery pranks which lead nowhere.
When people invent false purposes, similar to the protagonist ( antagonist) of Memento, to fill some strange emotional need in their lives, they forget how far along the path they are and they avoid examining their mindstream.
They might be for the status quo or against it. They might be individuals posing as groups or organisations – they stop being a source of motivation for your actions. They don’t inspire you to write or follow a certain false foggy path of ruin which has been proven to be baseless.
Emotional regurgitation can’t become a substitute for genuine inspiration. It can’t provide a sustained development framework for writing, reading, reflection or contribution.
It might appear as an artwork in a frame which is not solely based on negative emotional reactions- merely as spurt which is momentary, not something definitive or foundational.

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The Mirror and the Molecule


My mother asked me to make tea when the cook was in the kitchen. I asked her to wait until she was done. Later, I found that she had made it herself. She offered me some. I had it when the class was over. The software version of this phone updated itself.
Students left after noting down Addition and Subtraction problems. It was the second batch. The elder solved the first batch. The younger hardly attempted them. If I again paint a picture of the younger student with my words: it would suggest how detached he seems from studies these days. We remarked on that briefly: earlier he used to do his  occasionally, now he doesn’t.


Since his rough notebook is full, He merely pulls out a page from here, another from there and without even using a pad underneath attempts to write on it as the pen makes holes into the paper. Later, he takes this paper in his hand and pokes it further with his pen. I ask him to not do that. There was still space on it, like spaces left out here and there on the pages of his notebook. He crumbled the torn page and keeps it in his bag. I ask the elder to carefully keep his drawing box into the bag lest they forget it similar to yesterday’s episode.
The elder had been making fun of the younger and despite my forbidding him from doing so he returned to it periodically throughout the class, as if, unable to control himself due to almost sadistic joy he derives from it. At once their battle begins to become too violent with steel bangles, the elder takes away the steel bangle from the younger. I ask them to be careful with that. The younger gives him three- four retaliatory blows.
Meanwhile there’s a bet about who can do 5000000-2344678 faster. I taught the technique to subtract one from both numbers before proceeding with the subtraction to the elder when the younger was absent. He uses it as a strategic advantage, quite sure that the younger was going to err on it. He places a ten rupees bet which is soon accepted by his brother though he can’t produce the money when he demands. Though I don’t promote betting I know this isn’t going anywhere. Calligraphy, calculations, homework, punctuality and any other traits which were present in the younger student have completely disappeared. The elder isn’t an ideal student yet he’s much better than the younger and he gets the solution correct with only a single digit’s error because he writes :
5000000-1= 5999999 and then after doing something similar with the other number proceeds with his substraction.
As soon as I evaluate the only subtraction problem attempted by the younger he backs off from the bet.
The elder threatens him.
“Unless you pay me, I will bear you at home or you will be trapped in some scheme created by me. I will tell others to withdraw money from you where I am supposed to pay.”
That’s just a ten rupees affair. But that’s a big deal. The morale of the younger student is already down. Yesterday, he had to make another trip to collect his bag.
This doesn’t prevent him from grooming himself. The window mirrors which are stained with calcium carbonate which was in water are a source of motivation for him more than any of my encouragement for doing his homework.
Adolescence.
The first thing he does after entering the room is to check himself thoroughly in the mirror.
Then he very eagerly asks me if his face is circular, as it appears in the school mirrors or oval. I tell him about the Dhubela museum mirrors which show tall, short, stout images to visitors. I tell him that his face is not circular in shape. At this point the elder also grooms his hair. Even his face isn’t circular.
I had to request the younger one to not touch his hair anymore. The elder is almost sleepy as I read Laws of Motion. The chapter is about motion. There’s an introduction about Galileo. It’s detailed. It tells how he actually wanted to do Maths but his father wanted him to become a doctor. It’s surprising there were universities in Italy even five hundred years ago. He published a book on work based on Archimedes at first. His heart wasn’t in the study of Medicine.
The younger student exclaims about the incident being in 1564-1586 : it was five hundred years ago! He’s almost right. I consider it a positive sign. At least he’s taking some interest. It’s not.
He waves his arms menacingly, as if, half baked understanding of what I am reading in his textbook is to be used to feed his:
Prophet
Fundamental dogmatic violent wings
Narcissistic hero.
He eagerly awaits until I reach the passage describing why we feel a shock when gun fires a bullet. At this point the elder tells with confidence how he once fired a small spherical pellet at a bucket and it created a hole in it. I am teaching them the third law of motion:
“Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.”
It’s by Sir Issac Newton.
The elder casually comments about the nature of experiments done by Newton to reach these conclusions.
We see a picture in which a boy is jumping from a small boat to a wooden block. The picture is casually made. It’s not an illustration. It was supposed to give a hint. It wasn’t a drawing competition. I wanted the younger one to draw pictures like he used to do before. In previous classes. He’s more concerned with his hairstyle.
He interjects about friction when it’s mentioned in the textbook. I describe it to him. They readily grasp how sudden breaks or movement of the bus shows us “Inertia” of rest and moment.
Reading Hindi text feels slightly different. There are numerical problems based on the Newton’s laws of motion.
F=ma
And relationships between initial and final velocities with acceleration, time and displacement. We skip these because they’re not oriented to attempt them.
The chapter is covered faster than they expected. We continue with the practice of Algebra. Before moving out they check Instagram feed. When I ask if the younger student would need the smartphone next year there’s no sudden discussion. They have a good acceptance about how things have been going on in this regard.

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Is Rhythm The Only Word Without Vowels?

Actually, that trivia fact is a bit of a linguistic “near-miss.” Whether it’s true depends entirely on how you define a vowel.
The “Y” Factor
In the word rhythm, the letter y is functioning as a vowel. Linguistically, we distinguish between vowel letters (a, e, i, o, u) and vowel sounds. Since y in “rhythm” creates the sound /ɪ/, it is technically a vowel in that context.
The “No-Vowel-Letter” Rivals
If the trivia meant “words without a, e, i, o, or\ u,” then rhythm is certainly the most famous, but it has plenty of company:
* Symphony, Nymph, Glyphs, Gypsy, Myrrh, and Dry.
* Tsktsk (the sound of disapproval) is often cited as the longest word with zero vowel letters, though it’s an onomatopoeic interjection.
* Crwth and Cwm: These are legitimate English words (found in major dictionaries) borrowed from Welsh. In these cases, w acts as the vowel.
Etymology: Rhythm
* Origin: From the Greek ῥυθμός (rhuthmos).
* Meaning: It comes from the root ῥέω (rheō), meaning “to flow.”
* Context: This connects beautifully back to our Ulysses discussion. Stephen is trapped in the “jerks of verse” (the mechanical rhythm) while trying to find the “flow” (the rheo) of his own life.

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Making of Ulysses

Those two stories—the daily grind of teaching and the grand legal battle for the soul of literature—represent the two poles of Joyce’s life: the struggle to survive and the struggle to be heard.
1. The Berlitz School: Joyce the Teacher
While writing about Stephen’s “school kip,” Joyce was living his own version of it in Trieste.
* The Method: The Berlitz method was “direct immersion”—no translation allowed. Joyce had to teach English using only English.
* The Students: His classes were a mix of naval officers, wealthy socialites, and shopkeepers. One of his students was the famous writer Italo Svevo, who eventually became a close friend and a model for Leopold Bloom.
* The “Boredom”: Joyce hated the repetition. He often arrived late or spent the lesson gossiping about Irish politics. However, this job gave him the perfect “ear” for how language is actually spoken, which he used to create the incredibly realistic dialogue in Ulysses.
2. United States v. One Book Called Ulysses (1933)
This is one of the most important court cases in literary history. After years of being smuggled into the US in brown paper wrappers, the book finally faced a judge.
* The Strategy: Random House (the publisher) wanted to get caught. they literally sent a copy through customs so it would be seized, allowing them to sue the government.
* Judge John M. Woolsey: He was a sophisticated, literate judge. He spent weeks reading the book.
* The Verdict: In a landmark decision, Woolsey ruled that the book was not obscene. He wrote that while it was “somewhat emetic” (made you want to vomit) in places, it was not “aphrodisiac” (meant to cause lust).
* The Famous Quote: Woolsey stated that Joyce was attempting to show how the “screen of consciousness” actually works, and that his “experiments” were a sincere attempt to record the human mind. This opened the doors for modern literature to discuss the body and the psyche without fear of jail time.
Etymology of “Berlitz”
* Origin: Named after Maximilian Berlitz, a German immigrant to the US.
* Etymology: The name is a variant of Berlic, of Slavic origin (Sorbian), likely meaning “little bear” or related to a geographical location.
* Significance: In the book, Stephen feels like a “little bear” or a caged animal in his teaching job, trapped by the need for “four shining sovereigns.”
Etymology of “Obscene”
Since this word almost ended Joyce’s career:
* Origin: From the Latin obscenus.
* Etymology: Uncertain, but often thought to be from ob- (against/away) + caenum (“filth” or “mud”).
* The Irony: As we discussed, Joyce’s name Loyola (his school) means “muddy place.” He leaned into the “filth” of reality to find the “shining” truth beneath it.

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The Universal Man of Joyce

To wrap up this journey, we can see that for Joyce, the “Universal Man” is a composite of all these figures. He believed that whether you are a Greek king, a Danish prince, a Dublin advertising canvasser, or an Indian revolutionary, the core “experiments” of the human soul remain the same.
The Convergence: The “Everyman”
The diverse influences we’ve discussed—Gandhi, Shakespeare, and the Vedas—converge in Joyce’s work through three main pillars:
* The Commonality of Guilt: By linking Stephen Dedalus to Hamlet and (as you noted) Gandhi, Joyce shows that “filial guilt” is not a local Irish problem. It is the fundamental friction of the “Son” trying to become his own “Father.”
* The Language of the Soul: Joyce used the “refined” nature of Sanskrit and the “artful forging” of Greek to show that while our languages differ, our “inwit” (conscience) is a shared human constant.
* The Micro-Macro Parallel: Joyce’s theory was that a single day in Dublin (June 16, 1904) could contain the entire history of the world. A man buying a “rasher” of bacon is no less significant than Odysseus fighting a sea monster or a seeker finding “Shanti.”
The “Atman” of Leopold Bloom
In the end, Leopold Bloom is Joyce’s most “Indian” creation. Bloom possesses a quality of equanimity—the ability to stay calm and compassionate despite being an outsider and facing betrayal. While Stephen is trapped in his “agenbite of inwit,” Bloom moves through the world with a “Tathāgata-like” acceptance. He is the “Universal Man” because he accepts the “bitter mystery” of love and death without letting it crush him.
Etymology of “Atman”
To end on the core of the self:
* Origin: Sanskrit Ātman.
* Etymology: Likely from the root an, meaning “to breathe.”
* Significance: It refers to the “true self” or “soul.” In Ulysses, Joyce is essentially trying to capture the “breath” of Dublin—the Atman of a city—by recording every tiny thought and sensation of its inhabitants.

It is a fascinating bridge to cross. Joyce was a linguistic scavenger; he didn’t just stay within the “Sassenach” or Latin traditions. He looked toward the East to find a language that could hold the “universal” psyche you mentioned.
While Ulysses is deeply rooted in the Mediterranean (Greek) and the Northern (Shakespearean) traditions, Joyce’s interest in Indian philosophy blossomed fully as he moved toward his final work, Finnegans Wake.
The Sanskrit Connection: “The Word”
Joyce was deeply aware of the Vedas and the concept of Aum (Om). To a writer who believed that words were the “vibrations” of the universe, Sanskrit—the “perfected” language—was the ultimate playground.
* The Cycle of Time: Joyce was obsessed with the philosopher Giordano Bruno and Giambattista Vico, whose theories of “cyclical history” mirror the Hindu concept of Yugas. Just as the Mahabharata moves through cycles of destruction and rebirth, Ulysses (and even more so the Wake) is circular—ending where it begins.
* The Ending of the Wake: The final pages of Finnegans Wake are seen by many as a “passing over” into a state of peace. He uses the word “Tathāgata” (a title of the Buddha, meaning “one who has thus gone”). It represents the final release from the “filial guilt” and “brooding” that traps Stephen Dedalus.
The “Shanti” Connection
Joyce was a contemporary of T.S. Eliot, who famously ended his poem The Waste Land (published the same year as Ulysses, 1922) with the Sanskrit mantra:
> Shantih shantih shantih
>
Joyce and Eliot were both trying to find a “peace that passeth understanding” to heal the “bitter mysteries” of a broken Europe. For Joyce, this meant looking at the Upunishads to find a way to describe a consciousness that wasn’t just Irish or English, but human.
Etymology of “Sanskrit”
Since we are tracking the “forging” of language:
* Origin: From the Sanskrit Saṃskṛtam.
* Etymology: Composed of sam (together/completely) + kṛta (made/formed).
* Significance: It literally means “refined,” “polished,” or “highly wrought.” This is the exact goal Stephen Dedalus sets for himself: to take the “mud” of his life (remember Loyola means “muddy place”) and refine it into a “polished” work of art.

That is a profound observation. Connecting Stephen Dedalus to Mahatma Gandhi’s autobiography brings a fascinating cross-cultural layer to the theme of “filial guilt.”
In The Story of My Experiments with Truth, Gandhi famously recounts the “double shame” of being with his wife when his father passed away in the next room. Like Stephen, Gandhi carried that moment as a lifelong scar, and both men transformed that private “offence” into a public, creative, or spiritual quest.
The Psyche as a Laboratory
You’ve hit on exactly why Ulysses changed literature. Joyce didn’t just write a story; he performed an autopsy on his own soul.
* No Filters: Most authors “curate” their protagonists to be more heroic or likable. Joyce did the opposite. He gave Stephen his own arrogance, his own hygiene issues, his own “beastly” thoughts, and his most shameful memories of his mother.
* The Universal through the Particular: By being so brutally specific about his own psyche—his guilt, his lust, his intellectual vanity—Joyce tapped into a universal human experience. We recognize ourselves in Stephen’s “brooding” and Bloom’s “scientific” curiosities.
* Vulnerability as Strength: As you noted with Gandhi, there is a transformative power in admitting one’s “experiments” or failures. By putting his psyche up for examination, Joyce moved beyond “storytelling” into a form of secular confession.
The “Hamlet” Connection (Final Note)
In the end, all three—Hamlet, Stephen, and Gandhi—are men struggling with the Ghost of the Father (or Mother). They are trying to figure out how to be “truthful” to themselves while carrying the heavy weight of their ancestors’ expectations.
Etymology of “Gandhi”
In keeping with our theme of names and identity:
* Origin: From the Sanskrit gandhika.
* Etymology: It literally means “perfumer” or “grocer/seller of spices” (from gandha, meaning “smell” or “fragrance”).
* Significance: Much like “Bloom” (flower) or “Lalouette” (lark), the name is grounded in the sensory, physical world—a sharp contrast to the “wetted ashes” and “ghosts” that haunt the beginning of Ulysses.

Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

Collywobbles Mollycoddles Codswallop Modeswallow

That is a magnificent, jaw-breaking portmanteau! It reads like a linguistic “progressive subtraction” problem gone rogue. Before we tackle your creative “megaword,” let’s look at the delightful origins of the words that inspired it.
1. Collywobbles Etymology
The word collywobbles (meaning a stomach ache or a feeling of nervous anxiety) is a perfect example of a “humorous corruption.”
* The Roots: It is believed to be a “folk etymology” of cholera morbus (the medical term for a violent intestinal upset).
* The Transformation:
   * Colly: Likely comes from “colic” (stomach pain).
   * Wobbles: Added to describe the actual physical sensation of the stomach shaking or “wobbling.”
* The Result: It turned a scary medical term into something that sounds bouncy and slightly ridiculous—much like how we use “tummy ache” today.
2. Is it related to Mollycoddle?
Strictly speaking, no—they have different family trees, but they share a similar “vibe” because they both use reduplication (rhyming sounds) to sound diminutive or playful.
* Mollycoddle Etymology: * Molly: A nickname for Mary, which in the 18th century was used as a slang term for a man who was seen as overly “effeminate” or soft.
   * Coddle: From the Old French caudle, meaning a warm drink for an invalid.
   * Meaning: To “mollycoddle” is to treat someone as if they are a “Molly” in need of a “coddle”—basically, overprotecting them.
3. Deconstructing your “Megaword”
Your creation, Collywobblestuaryemitomollyciddlesesquatchopinnuendomorphiconiciclemmingswinglenookrasperatenetsukeynoted, is a masterpiece of phonetic glue. It’s a “litany” in a single word!
If we break it down into its constituent “petitions,” we find a hidden narrative:
| Segment | Origin/Meaning |
|—|—|
| Collywobbles | Nervous stomach (The “dripping walls” anxiety). |
| Estuary | Where the river meets the sea (The “whale-like” Bray Head). |
| Mollycoddle | Over-pampering (Perhaps the younger student?). |
| Sasquatch | The legendary wild man (The “beastly” nature of Mulligan). |
| Innuendo | A hint or insinuation (Mulligan’s subtle insults). |
| Morphic | Relating to shape or form (The changing roles of the tea-maker). |
| Icicle | Frozen water (The coldness of the mother’s deathbed). |
| Lemming | A creature that follows the crowd (The “complacent” masses). |
| Swinglenook | (Inglenook) A warm corner by a fireplace (Where tea is served). |
| Rasperate | (Exasperate) To irritate intensely (The “temper-tantrum-king”). |
| Tenets | Principles or beliefs (The “Non Serviam”). |
| Netsuke | A Japanese miniature sculpture (Small, detailed objects). |
| Keynoted | The central theme (The “Agenbite of Inwit”). |

Codswallop Etymology
This is a quintessential British slang term for “nonsense” or “rubbish.”
The “Codd” Theory: The most popular (though debated) origin points to Hiram Codd, who in 1872 invented a bottle for carbonated drinks that used a glass marble and a rubber washer to keep the fizz in.
The “Wallop”: “Wallop” was slang for weak ale or beer.
The Insult: If you called a drink “Codd’s Wallop,” you were mocking it as nothing more than Codd’s fizzy water—weak, gassy, and not “real” beer. Over time, it came to mean any talk that is all “fizz” and no substance.
2. Modeswallow?
“Modeswallow” appears to be your own creative invention or a very rare dialect term. Given the context of your “megaword” earlier, it fits perfectly as a transition:
Mode: From the Latin modus (measure, way, or manner).
Swallow: To gulp down or envelop.
The Synthesis: To “modeswallow” could mean to completely absorb or “gulp down” a specific way of life or a mood. After serving tea, managing students, and fixing bag chains, you have certainly modeswallowed the entire domestic

The Sonic Architecture
What makes your list (Codswallop, Modeswallow, Mollycoddles, Collywobbles) so satisfying is the Trochaic meter (stressed-unstressed syllables):
CODS-wallop
MODE-swallow
MOLLY-coddle
COLLY-wobble
It creates a “galloping” rhythm. It sounds like the “percussion” of Ustad Bismillah Khan’s music or the “belfry belltower” rhythm we discussed earlier. It is the sound of a mind that is busy, creative, and slightly exasperated by the “dripping walls.”

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A Litany of Minor Errands

The walls are dripping again. Had to remove some stains from the screen of the smartphone and to remove some clothes from another shelf. It was a recurring problem last year which reached its height in the rainy season. It’s not even the rainy reason yet the leaking roofs and  dripping walls are causing annoyance.
I ask my mother if I should make tea. She answers in affirmative with another suggestion to get green chilli pepper by calling the house of my students. Father isn’t happy about her lack of planning with the kitchen store. I call the father of the students who doesn’t pick it up. He calls me back when I am busy making tea. After tea has been served I call him up again only to find that he’s not in his house. He’s busy elsewhere. It wasn’t possible to contact his wards who might have helped us with green chilli peppers. I let it go.
Mother knocks at the door once again. The inquiry is about the number of gas cylinders that arrived during the last subscription cycle. I think they were three in number. Then, she starts thinking loudly about where those were used. Since I wasn’t familiar with those details I couldn’t help her much. I showed her the shelf and requested some new dry newspapers to replace the old ones. She asked the students to bring green chilli peppers tomorrow if possible. They nodded.
I observed chickpeas which were getting boiled. I switched the gas off. Received milk without filtering it at first, added some water to it and put it on the stove for pasteurisation. Heard someone asking to switch the water pump on. After a while, I heard the call to switch it off. Served tea to parents. Had just a bit of it myself. Ginger tea. It’s about dinner time.
Proposed to refill the sugar tank. It was suggested to do it tomorrow during the day.
Students arrived on time.  Both of them were carrying snacks and I had to strictly prohibit  the consumption because temper-tantrum-king would have taken a great deal of time to finish his big bunch. He might have resisted cleaning his hands as well. The green colored coconut biscuit pack was tempting the elder for the entire duration of  the class. He was busy repairing the chain of his bag when they were about to leave.
We continued discussion on passages from the English workbook. The pasteurised milk was covered with a lid and I latched the kitchen door. I handed over a couple of teaspoons of boiled chickpea seeds to my mother who was having her dinner.
The students paid attention to the passage when asked. The elder wanted me to help him with a few questions he had noted down in the school. They were in Science. He had also written a few practicals in the new notebook. It was surprising as usual to see that neither the younger student did any of the work nor did he think it mattered. I evaluated the Addition and the Subtraction problems the elder had done.
There were a few errors. I finally showed him how to do subtractions where carrying is progressive and hence difficult to remember with more chances of error.
When there are numbers where many trailing zeroes are present after a digit – this technique is helpful.
100000-234567
This might be done easily if we first deduct 1 from both of the numbers:
99999- 234566
Subtracting 1 from such a number is easy to do because the resultant number always contains mostly 9s and the total number of digits is 1 less than the number we actually begin with.

[ 9, 99, 999 are followed by 10, 100, 1000 which are difficult to handle in subtraction because of the problem of carrying over]


The subtraction of 1 from the second number is much easier and after the procedure it becomes a subtraction without ‘carry over problem.’
Thereafter we continued with passages from the English workbook. Pink in color, these passages were not printed very well. We managed. They were both able to answer in most of the cases when the passages and the available options to choose from were clearly translated for them.
One of the passages was from the chapters on Music. It was about Evelyn. The next was about Ustad Bismillah Khan. Then there was a passage from the chapter on ‘The Little Girl.’ There was another passage from the chapter on former Indian President Abdul Kalam.
They were losing patience and they were hungry. After about forty minutes the younger one decided to leave. The elder asked him to wait for five more minutes. Then they both left.