Is Ulysses my favorite book? I must confess I am lying… my favorite book is someone written by me but… I love Joyce and I love his sense of humor and I love when he tells us the lying truth of words, when he confesses us the sarcastic truly smiling deep dream of literature.
Strange illness… the man in front of the mirror can only see the most weird reflection of himself. Can you see the man with a moustache? There’s something beyond your glasses and your lies, something more than words and something much important than truth. Can you see now? Beckett knew it: you were not blind.
I would like to say goodbye here to my mate, my best friend… Joyce was my dog during 14 years. Have a good travel, my boy! Now, my parents got another two dogs and named the female Nora… Well, I don’t know if my parents have read Ulysses –of course not- but she is a good dog. Nora Barnacle was Joyce’s girlfriend, mate and confessor. If you want to smile for a while, take a look to the letters between them. They are really interesting!
Joyce took the name of his daughter from Italy. She was the only person who really understood Joyce’s words. She felt into madness and she was under treatment with the eminence Carl Jung… He couldn’t do so much for her. Anyway, I remember the words of one psychiatrist who said that he had many patients that could write like Joyce. Doctors are always sincere, of course.
Ulysses is a book talking about books that talks about words that means…. Nothing! What does mean the music? Words counting and discounting, giving us the sense of the nonsense, the eternal paradox between the unreal reality and the still verb that means, in the end, just words. Words that don’t describe anything, words of music and words of silence, the silent word of the betrayal and the loudly word in the battle.
Ulysses is the book of movement in a moment of a day. 24 hours to remember the History, to remember the stories of Ajax and Odysseus, finally Ulysses. Movement of centuries, movement of silences, movement of years and the epic seasons of those cruel years of war and desire. You, Leopold Bloom, the mirror of all of us, the mirror of centuries and the reflection of psyche.
Myth beyond the Myth, words beyond the words. What’s a myth? Maybe an history about fantasy… stories for children about a dragon called Stephen Dedalus, who one day tried to sack the famous town of Troy. Tell me, O muse, of that ingenious hero who traveled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy… Myths walk with us for now, myths walked with us in the future, myths will walk with us in the obscure past in a little book store in Paris. 1922. Shakespeare and Co.
Is Dublin more important than Ulysses? People come to Dublin to look the Ulysses streets, to look for the traces of its characters. Dublin Tell me, O muse, the story of one city, the story of the people with one potato in their wasted hands… tell me how they could find the music, tell me how they could find the truth and tell me how they died and how they lived and, finally, tell me how they are now living and they will live forever. I will give you the gift of all centuries, a gift for the Humankind, a gift that just you can read… a book for all and a book that can transform for every one and every mind, a unique book, the last book for the Dubliners.
Joyce loved music. He had a extraordinary voice and he could play the piano very well. Joyce liked to drink Swish wine and he drank one thousand bottles of Greek wine, plenty of envy and sights and dreams and lost paradises in every corner in every mind. Let’s play the sonnet of Dedalus and let’s play the play of the forgotten Bloomsday song. Let’s do it slowly but let’s do it forever and today, 16 of June.