Ulysses

why yes, leopold bloom did shit out an impressive load. glad to see some fellow ulysses readers on this board! -tip-

you've never been near a Lit. department have you?

I did not enjoy reading Ulysses either but I am not educated/intelligent enough to label it as good/bad. Hopefully you can present a coherent argument, I'd really like to see legitimate criticism of that book.

I don't know

Go on.

I guess these days more students are taught to read with more emphasis on social value and cultural context, which is also bad.

[

So you gave up after 10 pages because it was too difficult?
Poor teenager. Ulysses isn’t something you sit and read over a few afternoons. It’s something you wrestle with for a year or more. It’s something you buy books about. It’s something you visit Dublin for.
Stick to your Star Wars movie novelizations.

ahahah I read it in a week, jesus

...

You don’t stop reading it.

YOU CALLED?

r-rude

>g-git gud

>*Tipping intensifies*

The less time it takes you to read it, the more pleb you are. Under a week puts you in the 'tryhard pseud' category. Congrats famalam.

Haha, I really like this image. It is THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST I've ever seen. Mind if I save it?

On occasion I get a certain urge, an urge I can't find the impetus behind but one that nonetheless I find I must satisfy to it's natural conclusion. I eat as much peanut butter and drink as much milk as I can in order to build up the gasses, then I jump in my car and head down to the bookstore to buy a 1922 scholarly edition of Ulysses. During the drive I'll start to feel the farts welling up, but i hold them in, knowing they'll be so much sweeter soon. Walking around the bookstore I can feel the eyes of the cute little shopkeep on me as I clench my ass cheeks together. Sometimes I'll smile at her and maybe even let a little squeaker out (She always blushes). When I get back home I draw all the curtains and get fully nude. The farts are mustering full force against my sphincter now, clamoring to get out. I'll let one or two slip out--i just can't help myself! I squat nude at the top of my stairs, bobbing up and down so that the carpet tickles my dangling ballsack, and meticulously rip out the telemachus episode, wadding each page up and carefully inserting them into my ballooning rectum. When every last page is inside me, quivering, face contorted in pleasure, I groan the words "Stately plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead," whereupon I unleash a flatulence the like on which is rarely seen, heard, or smelt anywhere. The pages of Telemachus flutter through the air like confetti as I have a mind-shattering orgasm, shooting cum from the stairhead all the way to the lower level. Often in my ecstasy I tumble all the way down to lay twitching at the bottom in the puddle, the pages raining down on me until I fall asleep, dreaming of how I'll do it all over again tomorrow with Nestor.

*lie

Bait.

Let's talk about our favourite scenes from Ulysses to convince anons who haven't read it to start. The first one that really hit me, and consequently has remained my favourite, is when Bloom has lunch in chapter 8 and reminisces about sharing a kiss with his wife many years ago. Joyce takes the reader through bursting sensuality and love and nostalgia and then, balancing the scene around a pivot of exactly three words, inverts love into a wave of crushing loss. It was this ability of Joyce to get to the heart of human emotions that, more than any of the
>look at how many languages I know
>look at how many references I can put in my book
for which Joyce is by academia generally acclaimed, that convinced me of his genius.

Go ahead, son