In the spirit of expanding my horizons and doing things on my list of undone, I am A) having a party in my own apartment and B) reading Ulysses. For real this time. I'm in a class, so I have to. I got the annotations from the library and I'm going to do it right. Already it's dense as hell, but the more I learn about Irish history, catholicism, Shakespeare, and modernism the more amazed I am with this book. It's the only novel I think I've ever read where each word, sentence, paragraph, and chapter are labored over in both minute and grand scales. Or at least the only one where every word has the greatest possible meaning. Granted that I'm only up to chapter two, Joyce is awe-inspiring nonetheless. I'm hooked enough now, scant pages into the work, to consider a life as a Joyce scholar. If only someone would actually pay me.
The more interesting subject being the party, I'll go on about that now. Yes, it's a collegiate party with booze and revelry and more people than the fire marshall would approve of (admittedly not that many considering, but we've invited everyone we know and like.) We have agreed, out of cheapness and practicality and safety, that we aren't going to provide enough alcohol for any one person to get shit-faced. This will be a social, partially BYOB, and hopefully monstrously fun occasion. I'm cooking up a huge thang of pasta and several huge thangs of sauce (perhaps veggie and meaty, though entirely veggie may be how it goes), and the bottle of wine we hoarded in the dorm for half the year will finally be deflowered. Funny thing: We're asking everyone to bring a plate because we don't have enough for everyone. In fact, we have five plates for three people. I actually consider that quite respectable, given our student status.
Meine Deustch Professor ist nicht gut, aber nicht schlecht. Er spricht als wir Kinder sind. Meg, wer hast du? Hast du Maria wieder?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment