The title to this thread is uninformative and encourages me to respond to it, as opposed to your actual question. I would suggest changing it to something more informative.
However, in answer to your question: No.
It's likely that someone has noticed, otherwise how would you be posting about it?
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It's likely that someone has noticed, otherwise how would you be posting about it?
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He didn't notice it... he got a vision about it.
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The title to this thread is uninformative and encourages me to respond to it, as opposed to your actual question. I would suggest changing it to something more informative.
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Well, the original poster is named FinnegansWake ...
Wikipedia:[ QUOTE ]
Finnegans Wake is a work of comic fiction by Irish author James Joyce, which is recognised for its difficulty for the reader and its experimental style. [...] The entire book is written in an idiosyncratic language, consisting of multilingual puns and portmanteau words, which attempts to recreate the experience of sleep and dreams. Due to its expansive linguistic experiments, stream of consciousness writing style, literary allusions, free dream associations, and its abandonment of conventions of plot and character construction, Finnegans Wake remains largely unread by the general public.
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Clearly, this entire thread is art.
@Acyl
VIRTUE
Blue: Realpolitik, Leading Lady, Glass Lass, Superball, Alec Kazam
Red: Battery Acid, Obsolete, Bugfix
One good thing came from this: Finnegans Wake sounds like an excellent read, and I shall have to procure myself a copy when I have the funds and time. Thanks Acyl: The More You Know!
And what's the deal with Ovaltine?
Learn modesty, if you desire knowledge. A highland would never be irrigated by river." (Kanz ol-Haghayegh)
Ovaltine is...PEOPLE!
I like Pekan Pie!
"every defender needs to fight. I don't care if you have to use BRAWL!"
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One good thing came from this: Finnegans Wake sounds like an excellent read, and I shall have to procure myself a copy when I have the funds and time. Thanks Acyl: The More You Know!
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Not that I would ever discourage anyone from reading, but before you get all set to have a go at Finnegan, here's an excerpt from the 8th chapter - called the "Anna Livia Plurabelle" chapter
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Well, you know or dont you kennet or havent I told you every telling has a taling and thats the he and the she of it. Look, look, the dusk is growing! My branches lofty are taking root. And my cold chers gone ashley. Fieluhr? Filou! What age is at? It saon is late. Tis endless now senne eye or erewone last saw Waterhouses clogh. They took it asunder, I hurd thum sigh. When will they reassemble it? O, my back, my back, my bach! Id want to go to Aches-les-Pains. Pingpong! Theres the Belle for Sexaloitez! And Concepta de Send-us-pray! Pang! Wring out the clothes! Wring in the dew! Godavari, vert the showers! And grant thaya grace! Aman. Will we spread them here now? Ay, we will. Flip! Spread on your bank and Ill spread mine on mine. Flep! Its what Im doing. Spread! Its churning chill. Der went is rising. Ill lay a few stones on the hostel sheets. A man and his bride embraced between them. Else Id have sprinkled and folded them only. And Ill tie my butchers apron here. Its suety yet. The strollers will pass it by. Six shifts, ten kerchiefs, nine to hold to the fire and this for the code, the convent napkins, twelve, one babys shawl. Good mother Jossiph knows, she said. Whose head? Mutter snores? Deataceas! Wharnow are alle her childer, say? In kingdome gone or power to come or gloria be to them farther? Allalivial, allalluvial! Some here, more no more, more again lost alla stranger. Ive heard tell that same brooch of the Shannons was married into a family in Spain. And all the Dunders de Dunnes in Marklands Vineland beyond Brendans herring pool takes number nine in yangsees hats. And one of Biddys beads went bobbing till she rounded up lost histereve with a marigold and a cobblers candle in a side strain of a main drain of a manzinahurries off Bachelors Walk. But all thats left to the last of the Meaghers in the loup of the years prefixed and between is one kneebuckle and two hooks in the front. Do you tell me. that now? I do in troth. Orara por Orbe and poor Las Animas! Ussa, Ulla, were umbas all! Mezha, didnt you hear it a deluge of times, ufer and ufer, respund to spond? You deed, you deed! I need, I need! Its that irrawaddyng Ive stoke in my aars. It all but husheth the lethest zswound. Oronoko! Whats your trouble? Is that the great Finnleader himself in his joakimono on his statue riding the high hone there forehengist? Father of Otters, it is himself! Yonne there! Isset that? On Fallareen Common? Youre thinking of Astleys Amphitheayter where the bobby restrained you making sugarstuck pouts to the ghostwhite horse of the Peppers. Throw the cobwebs from your eyes, woman, and spread your washing proper! Its well I know your sort of slop. Flap! Ireland sober is Ireland stiff Lord help you, Maria, full of grease, the load is with me! Your prayers. I sonht zo! Madammangut! Were you lifting your elbow, tell us, glazy cheeks, in Conways Carrigacurra canteen? Was I what, hobbledyhips? Flop! Your rere gaits creakorheuman bitts your butts disagrees. Amnt I up since the damp tawn, marthared mary allacook, with Corrigans pulse and varicoarse veins, my pramaxle smashed, Alice Jane in decline and my oneeyed mongrel twice run over, soaking and bleaching boiler rags, and sweating cold, a widow like me, for to deck my tennis champion son, the laundryman with the lavandier flannels? You won your limpopo limp fron the husky hussars when Collars and Cuffs was heir to the town and your slur gave the stink to Carlow. Holy Scamander, I sar it again! Near the golden falls. Icis on us! Seints of light! Zezere! Subdue your noise, you hamble creature! What is it but a blackburry growth or the dwyergray [censored] them four old codgers owns. Are you meanam Tarpey and Lyons and Gregory? I meyne now, thank all, the four of them, and the roar of them, that draves that stray in the mist and old Johnny MacDougal along with them. Is that the Poolbeg flasher beyant, pharphar, or a fireboat coasting nyar the Kishtna or a glow I behold within a hedge or my Garry come back from the Indes? Wait till the honeying of the lune, love! Die eve, little eve, die! We see that wonder in your eye. Well meet again, well part once more. The spot Ill seek if the hour youll find. My chart shines high where the blue milks upset. Forgivemequick, Im going! Bubye! And you, pluck your watch, forgetmenot. Your evenlode. So save to jurnas end! My sights are swimming thicker on me by the shadows to this place. I sow home slowly now by own way, moyvalley way. Towy I too, rathmine.
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Beckett said of Finnegans Wake that "It is not to be read. It is to be looked at and listened to. His writing is not about something. It is that something itself." Joyce's own wife once asked him "Why don't you write books people can read?"
That being said, it is a wonderful PUZZLE. He uses over 70 different languages in the book -- whole paragraphs are based on Polynesian slang. The chapter from which this excerpt is taken is woven through with the names of almost every river on the planet (sometimes written in such puns that you have to untwist the language to see what he means). You actually feel like a genius when you parse out a particular passage and realize that you get all of the references, and then feel like an idiot when you learn that you missed how they all fit together.
Joyce once wrote to a Swiss friend that since he wasn't Irish he wouldn't understand certain parts, but because he was Catholic he would understand others. Since he was a musician he would relate to some passages, but his lack of cricket knowledge would leave him lost other places. He was writing for an audience who would understand that a specific Irish politician usually wore a top hat or that a local actor had an affair with a noble's daughter.
And Joyce scholars consider Finnegans Wake to be easy mode compared to Ulysses. Joyce concidered it his most acessible work. Read it out loud, it helps.
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It'll be good practice for reading the Walls-O-Text here on the forums?
I dunno, I read that except, and it was confusing, but I enjoyed reading and rereading sections of it. It remains something I wouldn't mind reading out on the dock.
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It'll be good practice for reading the Walls-O-Text here on the forums?
I dunno, I read that except, and it was confusing, but I enjoyed reading and rereading sections of it. It remains something I wouldn't mind reading out on the dock.
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That is an excellent attitude to have going into Finnegans Wake. I both love and hate Joyce (Ulysses 
), but it really is about the experience of reading it more than anything else.
I'm just a holy fool, oh baby it's so cruel
Thessalia, by Darkchildx2k
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One good thing came from this: Finnegans Wake sounds like an excellent read, and I shall have to procure myself a copy when I have the funds and time. Thanks Acyl: The More You Know!
[/ QUOTE ]
Not that I would ever discourage anyone from reading, but before you get all set to have a go at Finnegan, here's an excerpt from the 8th chapter - called the "Anna Livia Plurabelle" chapter
[ QUOTE ]
Well, you know or dont you kennet or havent I told you every telling has a taling and thats the he and the she of it. Look, look, the dusk is growing! My branches lofty are taking root. And my cold chers gone ashley. Fieluhr? Filou! What age is at? It saon is late. Tis endless now senne eye or erewone last saw Waterhouses clogh. They took it asunder, I hurd thum sigh. When will they reassemble it? O, my back, my back, my bach! Id want to go to Aches-les-Pains. Pingpong! Theres the Belle for Sexaloitez! And Concepta de Send-us-pray! Pang! Wring out the clothes! Wring in the dew! Godavari, vert the showers! And grant thaya grace! Aman. Will we spread them here now? Ay, we will. Flip! Spread on your bank and Ill spread mine on mine. Flep! Its what Im doing. Spread! Its churning chill. Der went is rising. Ill lay a few stones on the hostel sheets. A man and his bride embraced between them. Else Id have sprinkled and folded them only. And Ill tie my butchers apron here. Its suety yet. The strollers will pass it by. Six shifts, ten kerchiefs, nine to hold to the fire and this for the code, the convent napkins, twelve, one babys shawl. Good mother Jossiph knows, she said. Whose head? Mutter snores? Deataceas! Wharnow are alle her childer, say? In kingdome gone or power to come or gloria be to them farther? Allalivial, allalluvial! Some here, more no more, more again lost alla stranger. Ive heard tell that same brooch of the Shannons was married into a family in Spain. And all the Dunders de Dunnes in Marklands Vineland beyond Brendans herring pool takes number nine in yangsees hats. And one of Biddys beads went bobbing till she rounded up lost histereve with a marigold and a cobblers candle in a side strain of a main drain of a manzinahurries off Bachelors Walk. But all thats left to the last of the Meaghers in the loup of the years prefixed and between is one kneebuckle and two hooks in the front. Do you tell me. that now? I do in troth. Orara por Orbe and poor Las Animas! Ussa, Ulla, were umbas all! Mezha, didnt you hear it a deluge of times, ufer and ufer, respund to spond? You deed, you deed! I need, I need! Its that irrawaddyng Ive stoke in my aars. It all but husheth the lethest zswound. Oronoko! Whats your trouble? Is that the great Finnleader himself in his joakimono on his statue riding the high hone there forehengist? Father of Otters, it is himself! Yonne there! Isset that? On Fallareen Common? Youre thinking of Astleys Amphitheayter where the bobby restrained you making sugarstuck pouts to the ghostwhite horse of the Peppers. Throw the cobwebs from your eyes, woman, and spread your washing proper! Its well I know your sort of slop. Flap! Ireland sober is Ireland stiff Lord help you, Maria, full of grease, the load is with me! Your prayers. I sonht zo! Madammangut! Were you lifting your elbow, tell us, glazy cheeks, in Conways Carrigacurra canteen? Was I what, hobbledyhips? Flop! Your rere gaits creakorheuman bitts your butts disagrees. Amnt I up since the damp tawn, marthared mary allacook, with Corrigans pulse and varicoarse veins, my pramaxle smashed, Alice Jane in decline and my oneeyed mongrel twice run over, soaking and bleaching boiler rags, and sweating cold, a widow like me, for to deck my tennis champion son, the laundryman with the lavandier flannels? You won your limpopo limp fron the husky hussars when Collars and Cuffs was heir to the town and your slur gave the stink to Carlow. Holy Scamander, I sar it again! Near the golden falls. Icis on us! Seints of light! Zezere! Subdue your noise, you hamble creature! What is it but a blackburry growth or the dwyergray [censored] them four old codgers owns. Are you meanam Tarpey and Lyons and Gregory? I meyne now, thank all, the four of them, and the roar of them, that draves that stray in the mist and old Johnny MacDougal along with them. Is that the Poolbeg flasher beyant, pharphar, or a fireboat coasting nyar the Kishtna or a glow I behold within a hedge or my Garry come back from the Indes? Wait till the honeying of the lune, love! Die eve, little eve, die! We see that wonder in your eye. Well meet again, well part once more. The spot Ill seek if the hour youll find. My chart shines high where the blue milks upset. Forgivemequick, Im going! Bubye! And you, pluck your watch, forgetmenot. Your evenlode. So save to jurnas end! My sights are swimming thicker on me by the shadows to this place. I sow home slowly now by own way, moyvalley way. Towy I too, rathmine.
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Oh God!
So's anyone noticed that there's a costume option under "Detail 1 " of head accessories that is misspelled as "seperator" instead of "separator?"