Sunday, 16 June 2019

BLOOMSDAY

BLOOMSDAY, 16th June 







James Joyce

                                             

Joyce wrote only a handful of books and they're all amazing! Here's the ending (4 mins.) of his short story, The Dead (with the late, great Donal McCann, featuring Angelica Huston and directed by her father, John):       end of The Dead    

But why is Joyce world famous?
         ULYSSES. That's why. It's a mock-heroic title - the book being a parody of Homer's Odyssey - referring to his main character, Leopold Bloom, whose heroic job is selling advertising space for a local newspaper as he wanders around the streets of Dublin.
         In Eccles St., inner city Dublin, Bloom gets up in the morning, feeds the cat, gives his wife, Molly, a cup of tea in bed and has his breakfast of fried kidneys before he goes off to work. At around the same time, Stephen, a young schoolteacher, gets out of bed at his accommodation in the bleak Martello Tower in Dun Laoghaire, Dublin. (Today, it's the Joyce Museum).  
         The year is 1904, June 16th. The huge novel is about a single day in the life of Bloom and other Dubliners. Eighteen hours, eighteen chapters, each with a different style. Each chapter also relates to a part of the human body and, of course, to an episode in Homer's great Odyssey. There is no real plot and not much happens. In fact, it's very ordinary.
         
Every year, on 16th June, Dubliners celebrate what they call Bloomsday. Actors and fans dress up in the elegant clothes that were worn in Dublin over a hundred years ago and with their admiring public, go through the activities that take place in ULYSSES, e.g. they start the day with the same breakfast as Bloom L and perform extracts from his works in Dun Laoghaire and all over Dublin throughout the day.
         ULYSSES is about ordinary people doing ordinary things on an ordinary summer's day in Dublin.

        But it is also extraordinary. Because of his ability to use language so well, Joyce brings these characters to life in a way that had never been done before. We suddenly find ourselves entering the constant flow of thoughts, not only in the main characters, but in other figures as well. The reader has to be very alert because we never know when the perspective is about to shift from one person doing something, to another person doing - or thinking! - something else. (This flowing technique is known as the 'stream of consciousness'. ) 
       
  It is also a very human novel; there is no violence in it and each moment is ordinary and beautiful in its ordinariness.
         Joyce used a very large canvas to include all the ordinary details of everyday life and in doing so, made them extraordinary.
Photo of Ulysses Commemorative Plaques - Dublin, Republic of Ireland
         Today, when you walk through Dublin, you will see plaques in the footpaths marking the spots where Bloom was, the shops and pubs he went into, and the extract from ULYSSES which refers to that moment.  

In the last chapter of the book, we see Bloom at about 2 a.m. getting into bed with Molly after his 'Odyssey' in Dublin. He sleeps on the other end of the bed because he knows Molly is unfaithful. He knows that she had seen another man that afternoon - in that very bed!  But he loves her, nevertheless. Then he falls asleep.

         Then, Molly starts thinking - she goes off on her own little mental Odyssey - about her day and her past and her life in general. Her last thoughts are loving memories about herself and Bloom when they were younger.
         So for the next sixty pages she thinks - six very, very long sentences with no punctuation whatsoever until the very last full-stop!
         Here are the last fifty lines on film!  https://youtu.be/ii_aZ6djNkM




Saturday, 15 June 2019


Welcome to SATURDAY SESSIONS # 3, featuring The Compromise. A patient undergoes hypnosis, returns to a past life and gets more than he bargained for! If you missed the first two pieces, it's about a guy whose life just keeps getting worse; he now attempts self-healing through past-life regression therapy. 







# 3


I stop suddenly to listen to the strains of the melancholic song. In a flash, I break into an uncontrollable fit of howling as I fall to my knees on the rug. In a vain effort to compose myself and behave like an adult, I apologise profusely to Lucy who is now clasping both of my trembling fists and trying to ease me gently back into the armchair. I try to rationalise it and tell her that I'm suffering from exhaustion, deciding in my own mind that it isn't an appropriate moment to start talking about my broken life and my cancer; I'm sure she hears more than enough of the misery of people's lives in her line of work. No, better not mention the death-sentence.
But the track, I ask her, the song, what was it? What is it? How could a song have such an overwhelming effect on me?
She fetches the CD jacket and shows it to me. Track seven, she says. It's a collection of songs, meditations and tunes from India. This one is in English, Long Time Sun, sung by Snatam Kaur, a love song, lullaby, even.
Lucy invites me to take my shoes off and lie down on the sofa. She briefly massages my aching shoulders. So much better now. You can rest here, she whispers, like a mother. You can listen to the song once again, if you like, before you're ready to leave. I thank her and ask her if she wouldn't mind continuing with the session another little bit, the hypnosis, the regression, just for a few minutes, just one last time, while the song is playing.
She selects track seven on the CD and plays it. I try to focus on the words of the lyrics, May the long time sun shine upon you while Lucy tells me to breathe deeply through my nose, up through the back of my lungs, holding for a while, and then out again, a long, long outbreath out... all love surround you...
I'm thinking of the man in the wheelchair, I'm thinking of Cathy, of Jason, of Maria. I feel so responsible for them all, responsible for whatever it is they are suffering in their lives. Why do I feel sorry for the man in the wheelchair? May the pure light... within you...guide you on your way...
Lucy's hypnotherapy has got to the bit about the stream of light, the golden stream of warm light which now spills down into my body, a warm shower of light, cascading downwards in slow motion, down through my head, my neck, and down, all the way down through my torso, my limbs and my toes, lifting me, suspending me...
Look around you, she is saying, what do you see?
I'm as light as a leaf.
What are you wearing? Look at your feet.
I'm falling.
Drifting.


(Continued next Saturday! You'll never believe where he ends up!)

Here's that song, by the way...


P.S. One of my other books, LAZARUS, is the extraordinary tale of a man who raises his son from the dead - but at a cost. It's published by Smashwords as an e-book. If you'd like a free copy, just pop me an e-mail and I'll be happy to send it to you!

Greg











Saturday, 8 June 2019

Greg's Blog: SATURDAY SESSIONS

Greg's Blog: SATURDAY SESSIONS: Welcome to this week's SATURDAY SESSIONS , featuring The Compromise , the story of a past-life regression. If you missed the begi...

SATURDAY SESSIONS



Welcome to this week's SATURDAY SESSIONS, featuring The Compromise, the story of a past-life regression.
If you missed the beginning last week, it's about a guy whose unhappy life is now made even worse by a recent diagnosis of terminal cancer. Having decided to avoid traditional treatment, we find him attending his first session with a past-life regression therapist.





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The Compromise, # 2



Sometimes, what you dream about is a past-life fragment, Lucy tells me. Even people you meet, places you see, déjà vu, they resonate.

I'm sitting comfortably in the dim-lit room, eyes closed, the outline of the Dali print on the wall still before me in my mind's eye, the soft strains of sitar in the air, Lucy's mellifluous voice telling me to enjoy the peace, let the light flow down through my body, and so on.

Maybe I should have told her that I can't be hypnotised. Too sceptical, cynical even. Nevertheless, I believed everything I looked up on the Internet, about cancer, I mean, The Truth About Cancer, how all the money spent on cancer research is going down the toilet because they're looking in the wrong places. They're barking up the wrong tree. I believe that. I really do. All those carcinogens in the air and in the food and in the water are the triggers, of course, but not the cause. You have to get to the cause. I really do believe that cancer is the result of unresolved issues in one's life or past life.

But as for the soothing music, the spurious recall of what it was like to be in the womb, the opening of a huge, heavy, wooden door into a beautiful garden, nah, not for me, thanks. Sorry, sorry, sweetheart. No, don't say that. Don't say sweetheart. She might get the wrong idea. But I should really call a halt now and tell her. Oops, there she goes again, she's counting down again. Where am I supposed to be now? Garden? Ah no, I'd better stop. In all honesty, I'd better throw in the towel, tell her the truth, just tell her the truth, tell her the pure and simple truth that hypnosis just doesn't work for me.

I sit up abruptly and raise my two arms in a gesture of surrender. I apologise and tell her that I should never have come. Lucy is smiling sympathetically. She's so lovely, Lucy, so calm, composed. I'm ashamed of myself for disappointing her. She offers me a cup of tea. I sit there waiting for a few minutes, sulking, pondering my petulance, and she returns with the mug of tea and a delicious slice of apple and blackberry pie.

As I savour the pie and sip the tea, she tells me that although some people are not predisposed to entering the theta state for various reasons, there's nothing special about hypnosis; at any time of the day we can find ourselves in a mild state of self-hypnosis, when we are about to sleep, the hypnogogic state, or when we are just waking up, the hypnopompic state, or in a milder form, when we are daydreaming or watching a captivating movie, or even a commercial on TV. 
I can believe that about the ads, I laugh. We finish our tea and tart and I thank her graciously for her time and take out my wallet to pay the fee. The sitar music on the CD is still playing in the background but within a moment, within a few moments, Dear Reader, the next track on the album will precipitate a change, a profound change, no, more than that, a tectonic shift of cataclysmic proportions leading to nothing short of the most decisively life-changing event that has ever taken place in the past forty-four years of my miserable existence.



(Continued next Saturday!)

P.S. LAZARUS is the extraordinary tale of a man who raises his son from the dead - but at a cost. It's published by Smashwords as an e-book. If you'd like a free copy, just pop me an e-mail and I'll be happy to send it to you!

Greg


Saturday, 1 June 2019

Greg's Blog: Greg's Blog: SATURDAY SESSIONS

Greg's Blog: Greg's Blog: SATURDAY SESSIONS: Greg's Blog: SATURDAY SESSIONS : SATURDAY SESSIONS kicks off this year with a new book about a guy who tries to cure his cancer through ...