Monday, August 07, 2006
After over a hundred page SLOG through the relentless hypnagogic babel of the riverrunning nat language, Mr. Joyce drops the jiggerypokery and talks straight turkey meet to mate.
The resistence training having paid off sparkling dividends, the well worn reader earns a bit of the familiar Ulysses style blinding clarity. The culmative effect on my neuro semantic field seems already like that of a magic mushroom feast. (a similar tweaking of connotation & denotation, the cambridge caveman speaking more of the many.) Though RAW, Leary, & Mckenna have already said as much.
I asked Joyce in a dream once where for he got all his juice. He said he had picked a fight w/ the monster in the sky (God) and no one seemed sure who had won...
Reading is awesome!