JjournalII

Stream of Consciousness:

So here I am, sitting on a futon, an uncomfortable futon at that, wondering why my boyfriend is so noisy. He asks me a question, "Are these better notes for you?" I remember the conversation we had about how- ouch, stupid book. Damn, I'm tired -he wastes paper when he takes notes, skipping lines. What a waste of a tree, I think and am catapulted back to elementary school. "I am the Lorax, I speak for the trees" and the deconstructionist litarary criticism that my best friend Rebekah used to- "I love microbiology," he says. "Why?" I ask. Stupid pink highlighter. Why pink? I hate pink. Oh yeah -analyze the Lorax and the existentialism que j'adore. L'enfer, c'est les autres. Shoot, forgot about my French homework. I'll have to do it later which brings me back to sleep, what I'd love to be doing right now. *le sigh* It's eleven, eleven pm on a school nigh. If my mother knew she'd be scandalized. "Eleven, that's so late. I go to bed at eight." Yeah right mom. Sure you do. A yawn, great gaping maw of a mouth and all I can think is "I'm ready for bed. Tired eyes, tired mind." Bleh.

There are two types of animals that can be used to describe different philosophies. The Hedgehog knows that there is only one truth. The Fox, on the other hand, knows many many things. He knows that there is truth in details. Aristotle was a Fox and perhaps that's why he was Joyce's favorite philosopher. There are many truths and there are many details in which to find truth in Ulysses. The idea of a philosophical Fox reminds me of a song by the Doors, "Twentieth Century Fox." Jim Morrison crooning in his supposedly drunken stupor, "She's got the world locked up inside a plastic box. She's a twentieth century fox." The phrase reminded me of Chapter Three and being violently forced into the middle of Stephen's mind.

"Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. has all vanished since? If I open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. Basta! I will see if I can see. See now. There all the time without you: and ever shall be, world without end."

Somedays I wonder about Bloom...

As to narcoticism, I am against it. But doesn't it seem like it's an essential part of Ulysses? Bloom and Stephen seem to be living in their minds - consumed by their own thoughts and their own past experiences. Bloom is constantly reminded of Molly and her upcoming infidelity but yet he does nothing about it. "She mightn't like me to come that way wihtout letting her know. Must be careful about women. Catch them once with their pants down. Never forgive you after." Bloom's mind is overly active, however. He thinks wonderful thoughts that have never been thought before, (My favorite so far being: "A pump after all, pumping thousands of gallons of blood every day. One fine day it gets bunged up and there you are. Lots of them lying around here...Old rusty pumps: damn the thing else....")but he only goes through the motions of life. He is in bad faith, according to the existentialists. I feel that he wants to do something, stop Molly, kick the living bejeezus out of Blazes Boylan, but he doesn't.

Bad Faith - "A lie, especially to the self. Self-deception, the paradox of lying to the self, usually in an attempt to escape the responsibility of being an individual."