Anna Livia

February 2nd: a notable day.
Dr. Sexson's Anniversary
Groundhog Day
James Joyce's birthday

I haven't read very much of James Joyce's work, but a few years ago, I memorized the last part of his novel Finnegan's Wake and fell in love with it.
At first, I detested it. I couldn't stand it because I couldn't memorize it. The progression of Joyce's sentences and seemingly incomplete thoughts did not easily lend itself to memory. After hearing it so many times, saying the words to myself over and over, I finally heard a musicality in his words. I heard the metre behind it all, the song behind each word. I guess it was through this music that I felt as though I understood what he was saying, and i loved it. And, after that, I memorized it easily. (But I must be weak of memory, as I can no longer tell you Joyce's story. I think, though, that it's not gone forever. I might be able to pull it out with a little work. Help me Mnemosyne.)

Here's the piece. Listen for the musicality.
Yes, you're changing, sonhusband, and 
you're turning, I can feel you, for a daughterwife from the hills 
again. Imlamaya. And she is coming. Swimming in my hindmoist. 
Diveltaking on me tail. Just a whisk brisk sly spry spink spank 
sprint of a thing theresomere, saultering. Saltarella come to her 
own. I pity your oldself I was used to. Now a younger's there. 
Try not to part! Be happy, dear ones! May I be wrong! For she'll 
be sweet for you as I was sweet when I came down out of me 
mother. My great blue bedroom, the air so quiet, scarce a cloud. 
In peace and silence. I could have stayed up there for always only. 
It's something fails us. First we feel. Then we fall. And let her rain 
now if she likes. Gently or strongly as she likes. Anyway let her 
rain for my time is come. I done me best when I was let. Think- 
ing always if I go all goes. A hundred cares, a tithe of troubles and 
is there one who understands me? One in a thousand of years of 
the nights? All me life I have been lived among them but now 
they are becoming lothed to me. And I am lothing their little 
warm tricks. And lothing their mean cosy turns. And all the 
greedy gushes out through their small souls. And all the lazy 
leaks down over their brash bodies. How small it's all! And me 
letting on to meself always. And lilting on all the time. I thought 
you were all glittering with the noblest of carriage. You're only 
a bumpkin. I thought you the great in all things, in guilt and in 
glory. You're but a puny. Home! My people were not their sort 
out beyond there so far as I can. For all the bold and bad and 
bleary they are blamed, the seahags. No! Nor for all our wild 
dances in all their wild din. I can seen meself among them, alla- 
niuvia pulchrabelled. How she was handsome, the wild Amazia, 
when she would seize to my other breast! And what is she weird, 
haughty Niluna, that she will snatch from my ownest hair! For 
'tis they are the stormies. Ho hang! Hang ho! And the clash of 
our cries till we spring to be free. Auravoles, they says, never heed 
of your name! But I'm loothing them that's here and all I lothe. 
Loonely in me loneness. For all their faults. I am passing out. O 
bitter ending! I'll slip away before they're up. They'll never see. 
Nor know. Nor miss me. And it's old and old it's sad and old it's 
sad and weary I go back to you, my cold father, my cold mad 
father, my cold mad feary father, till the near sight of the mere 
size of him, the moyles and moyles of it, moananoaning, makes me 
seasilt saltsick and I rush, my only, into your arms. I see them 
rising! Save me from those therrble prongs! Two more. Onetwo 
moremens more. So. Avelaval. My leaves have drifted from me. 
All. But one clings still. I'll bear it on me. To remind me of. Lff! 
So soft this morning, ours. Yes. Carry me along, taddy, like you 
done through the toy fair! If I seen him bearing down on me now 
under whitespread wings like he'd come from Arkangels, I sink 
I'd die down over his feet, humbly dumbly, only to washup. Yes, 
tid. There's where. First. We pass through grass behush the bush 
to. Whish! A gull. Gulls. Far calls. Coming, far! End here. Us 
then. Finn, again! Take. Bussoftlhee, mememormee! Till thous- 
endsthee. Lps. The keys to. Given! A way a lone a last a loved a 
long the