The Annotated "Ulysses"/Page 076

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The Annotated "Ulysses" by James Joyce
Page 076
O, Mary lost the pin of her drawers.
She didn’t know what to do
To keep it up
To keep it up.

It? Them. Such a bad headache. Has her roses probably. Or sitting
all day typing. Eyefocus bad for stomach nerves. What perfume does your
wife use? Now could you make out a thing like that?

To keep it up.

Martha, Mary. I saw that picture somewhere I forget now old master or
faked for money. He is sitting in their house, talking. Mysterious. Also the
two sluts in the Coombe would listen.

To keep it up.

Nice kind of evening feeling. No more wandering about. Just loll there :
quiet dusk : let everything rip. Forget. Tell about places you have been, strange
customs. The other one, jar on her head, was getting the supper : fruit, olives,
lovely cool water out of the well stonecold like the hole in the wall at Ashtown.
Must carry a paper goblet next time I go to the trottingmatches. She listens
with big dark soft eyes. Tell her : more and more : all. Then a sigh : silence.
Long long long rest.

Going under the railway arch he took out the envelope, tore it swiftly in
shreds and scattered them towards the road. The shreds fluttered away, sank
in the dank air : a white flutter then all sank.

Henry Flower. You could tear up a cheque for a hundred pounds in the
same way. Simple bit of paper. Lord Iveagh once cashed a sevenfigure cheque
for a million in the bank of Ireland. Shows you the money to be made out of
porter. Still the other brother lord Ardilaun has to change his shirt four times
a day, they say. Skin breeds lice or vermin. A million pounds, wait a moment.
Twopence a pint, fourpence a quart, eightpence a gallon of porter, no, one
and fourpence a gallon of porter. One and four into twenty : fifteen about.
Yes, exactly. Fifteen millions of barrels of porter.

What am I saying barrels? Gallons. About a million barrels all the same.

An incoming train clanked heavily above his head, coach after coach.
Barrels bumped in his head : dull porter slopped and churned inside. The
bungholes sprang open and a huge dull flood leaked out, flowing together,
winding through mudflats all over the level land, a lazy pooling swirl of
liquor bearing along wideleaved flowers of its froth.

Annotations[edit]