Ulysses page-by-page: Page 96 (6.444-482) "over slime... will out."

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fd: [261]

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over slime, mudchoked bottles, carrion dogs.

p41 "A porterbottle stood up, stogged to its waist, in the cakey sand dough."
p46 illustrated both meanings of "carrion dog": a live carrion-sniffing dog attracted to dead-dog carrion
p94 "Wonder if that dodge works now getting dicky meat off the train at Clonsilla."

Athlone, Mullingar, Moyvalley, I could make a walking tour to see Milly by the canal. Or cycle down. Hire some old crock, safety. Wren had one the other day at the auction but a lady's. Developing waterways. James M'Cann's hobby to row me o'er the ferry. Cheaper transit. By easy stages. Houseboats. Camping out. Also hearses. To heaven by water. Perhaps I will without writing. Come as a surprise, Leixlip, Clonsilla. Dropping down lock by lock to Dublin. With turf from the midland bogs. Salute. He lifted his brown straw hat, saluting Paddy Dignam.

[larger] (7hrs by bike)

safety 'crock' (old bike)

McCann had died in February, after an idealistic campaign to renovate the canals as an alternative to the rail monopoly [more]

"row us o’er the ferry"
"To heaven by water"
the straw hat and cargo of turf echo the Bugaboo lyrics

They drove on past Brian Boroimhe house. Near it now.

(on left)
StreetView now (sp 'Boru')
1909 map

— I wonder how is our friend Fogarty getting on, Mr Power said.

— Better ask Tom Kernan, Mr Dedalus said.

— How is that? Martin Cunningham said. Left him weeping I suppose.

— Though lost to sight, Mr Dedalus said, to memory dear.

see "Grace"
[sheetmusic]

The carriage steered left for Finglas road.

StreetView now

fd (jump to 4:30): [262]

The stonecutter's yard on the right. Last lap. Crowded on the spit of land silent shapes appeared, white, sorrowful, holding out calm hands, knelt in grief, pointing. Fragments of shapes, hewn. In white silence: appealing. The best obtainable. Thos. H. Dennany, monumental builder and sculptor.

now Farrell & Son? StreetView now
[more]

white silence

Passed.

On the curbstone before Jimmy Geary the sexton's an old tramp sat, grumbling, emptying the dirt and stones out of his huge dustbrown yawning boot. After life's journey.

[more]

(i can picture-- but can't find-- a sentimental painting on this theme. just an artistic echo of hovering death)

Gloomy gardens then went by, one by one: gloomy houses.

Mr Power pointed.

— That is where Childs was murdered, he said. The last house.

(to their right, if JP sees it first he should be at 5:00)
1899 (Childs was 76yo)
StreetView now

— So it is, Mr Dedalus said. A gruesome case. Seymour Bushe got him off. Murdered his brother. Or so they said.

(how complete a catalog of hell-sins have we gotten? suicide, murder, non-contrition, stillbirth...?)

— The crown had no evidence, Mr Power said.

— Only circumstantial, Martin Cunningham added. That's the maxim of the law. Better for ninetynine guilty to escape than for one innocent person to be wrongfully condemned.

cf? p41 "Yes, used to carry punched tickets to prove an alibi if they arrested you for murder somewhere."

They looked. Murderer's ground. It passed darkly. Shuttered, tenantless, unweeded garden. Whole place gone to hell. Wrongfully condemned. Murder. The murderer's image in the eye of the murdered. They love reading about it. Man's head found in a garden. Her clothing consisted of. How she met her death. Recent outrage. The weapon used. Murderer is still at large. Clues. A shoelace. The body to be exhumed. Murder will out.

cf p90? "Four bootlaces for a penny." (maybe some internal symmetry)

'Bloom here is intuitively practicing one of Joyce's own composition strategies-- collecting phrases that convey a characteristic literary style/ voice. (in the FW notebook called 'Scribbledehobble' the lengthy section for Eumeus is almost entirely phrases from Dublin courtroom journalism.)' [cite]

mysteries:

[DD 00:52-03:26]