irish wedding cake plus commentary

commentary, remark, note, addenda, preface postface, re-face. no face.common face. common cause. mysterious buckle. trollope in a vein. buttocks in a backseat. rock star punkette bloggette . cursed hour! swiftian trope repartee.

Naturally this text is a comic one and resides in the realm of pure fiction. Clifford Duffy is not married to anyone. [ Actually we got that wrong: Clifford Duffy is not married, period. Not as you wrote. That is too definitive and limits the connotative possibles of yer enunciated whatyamacallit. Yea, yea. Yea, yea. Is.]
He_ is that yer first word?
She _ well darling come on my lap feel my tasted text wrapping itself the length of your slim sentence. Yer assemblage is the one I adore. Yer cockmanence is the goddess I see. I hear its pulse up here in me spine as trawled I do the lake outside Dublin. At me mam's last fortnight I just knew youwere South to me North. I cam e cutting yer text with lovellistedlust.------
She_ U mean you dont love me?
Clifford Duffy _ love? are you kidding? when I hear the word love, I want to vomit. each time the word love crosses the mouth of these god forsaken craytures ya know yer in trouble.
She_ well how about do you like F k with me? ( these days censoring oneself is sexy)Sucking my ya know what, especially as I spread my thighs as wet as two cows udders under Howth Castle and my peeping anus rainbow stuck way out there like a honey dried bacon seed? me darling CD. Is yer play my best arse? I think your a bitextual built for one hundred thousand molecule sex and more. I mean when I tink of the shites that have come and gone tasted yer pipe, played yer flute, well the hairs on my cunninlingus stand-up in outrage! My linguistic leprosy as the bitextual genre is one pure passage to become'd orgasm! I came 300 and 12 times when I read yer compose. Yer composed o'er my Liffey mister Duffy. Not shy as any barrister but a reel hoore in bed, ya are. O yer pipe in my succulent mouth was the heavenly gate opening to me vagina's last gate! O sweet f k ! My my what are you not capable of?
Cliffoarsiance.
rd Duffy _ you rave as always. A sweet thing with compose and rose up yer sweet irish briared arse. Yer arse to me is a banyan shade with many open doors. However, my slut ye ought to , dontchat that yer sexycunt is way more interesting to me. When I rode yer wombcacoomboomboom sexy sex I felt me cock growing beyond proportions AND knew knowing true love was on the way!
She and Clifford Duffy holding textual hands up each other'
s arse in hol[e]y

Whe they gotoutof prison shewas high rye addicted to his kiss. She took their kid texting to itslimitlibido.

irish wedding cake plus commentary

commentary and remarks, notes, addenda, preface postface, reface. no face.common face. common cause. mysterious buckle. trollope in a vein

Naturally this text is a comic one and resides in the realm of pure fiction. Clifford Duffy is not married to anyone.
------
She_ U mean you dont love me?
Clifford Duffy _ love? are you kidding? when I hear the word love, I want to vomit. each time the word love crosses the mouth of these god forsaken craytures ya know yer in trouble.
She_ well how about do you like F__ k with me? ( these days censoring oneself is sexy)Sucking my ya know what, especially as I spread my thighs as wet as two cows udders under Howth Castle and my peeping anus rainbow stuck way out there like a honey dried bacon seed? me darling CD. Is yer play my best arse? I think your a bitextual built for one hundred thousand molecule sex and more. I mean when I tink of the shites that have come and gone tasted yer pipe, played yer flute, well the hairs on my cunninlingus stand-up in outrage! My linguistic leprosy as the bitextual genre is one pure passage to become'd orgasm! I came 300 and 12 times when I read yer compose. Yer composed o'er my Liffey mister Duffy. Not shy as any barrister but a reel hoore in bed, ya are. O yer pipe in my succulent mouth was the heavenly gate opening to me vagina's last gate! O sweet f__ k ! My my what are you not capable of?
Clifford Duffy _ you rave as always. A sweet thing with compose and rose up yer sweet irish briared arse. Yer arse to me is a banyan shade with many open doors. However, my slut ye ought to , dontchat that yer sexycunt is way more interesting to me. When I rode yer wombcacoomboomboom sexy sex I felt me cock growing beyond proportions AND knew knowing true love was on the way!

commentary, remark, note, addenda, preface postface, re-face. no face.common face. common cause. mysterious buckle. trollope in a vein. buttocks in a backseat. rock star punkette bloggette . cursed hour! swiftian trope repartee.

Naturally this text is a comic one and resides in the realm of pure fiction. Clifford Duffy is not married to anyone.
------
She_ U mean you dont love me?
----------------------------------------------

commentary, remark, note, addenda, preface postface, re-face. no face.common face. common cause. mysterious buckle. trollope in a vein. buttocks in a backseat. rock star punkette bloggette . cursed hour! swiftian trope repartee.

Naturally this text is a comic one and resides in the realm of pure fiction. Clifford Duffy is not married to anyone. [ Actually we got that wrong: Clifford Duffy is not married, period. Not as you wrote. That is too definitive and limits the connotative possibles of yer enunciated whatyamacallit. Yea, yea. Yea, yea. Is.]
He_ is that yer first word?
She _ well darling come on my lap feel my tasted text wrapping itself the length of your slim sentence. Yer assemblage is the one I adore. Yer cockmanence is the goddess I see. I hear its pulse up here in me spine as trawled I do the lake outside Dublin. At me mam's last fortnight I just knew youwere South to me North. I cam e cutting yer text with lovellistedlust.------
She_ U mean you dont love me?
Clifford Duffy _ love? are you kidding? when I hear the word love, I want to vomit. each time the word love crosses the mouth of these god forsaken craytures ya know yer in trouble.
She_ well how about do you like F__ k with me? ( these days censoring oneself is sexy)Sucking my ya know what, especially as I spread my thighs as wet as two cows udders under Howth Castle and my peeping anus rainbow stuck way out there like a honey dried bacon seed? me darling CD. Is yer play my best arse? I think your a bitextual built for one hundred thousand molecule sex and more. I mean when I tink of the shites that have come and gone tasted yer pipe, played yer flute, well the hairs on my cunninlingus stand-up in outrage! My linguistic leprosy as the bitextual genre is one pure passage to become'd orgasm! I came 300 and 12 times when I read yer compose. Yer composed o'er my Liffey mister Duffy. Not shy as any barrister but a reel hoore in bed, ya are. O yer pipe in my succulent mouth was the heavenly gate opening to me vagina's last gate! O sweet f__ k ! My my what are you not capable of?
Cliffoarsiance.
rd Duffy _ you rave as always. A sweet thing with compose and rose up yer sweet irish briared arse. Yer arse to me is a banyan shade with many open doors. However, my slut ye ought to , dontchat that yer sexycunt is way more interesting to me. When I rode yer wombcacoomboomboom sexy sex I felt me cock growing beyond proportions AND knew knowing true love was on the way!
She and Clifford Duffy holding textual hands up each other'
s arse in hol[e]y

Whe they gotoutof prison shewas high rye addicted to his kiss. She took their kid texting to itslimitlibido.

______________________________________________

for the lady O' the green

__________________________ was this she?

Take note of the whip like objet in de lady's hand

C/D total sinner requires control! (context: is the verb in this case, passive, active, transitive, intransitive? All replies must be postmarked before November 12, at which time a winner will be announced. A free 'billet d'avion' to the deluxed wedding of Duffy and said Lynda Miss Ireland world to be issued).

_______________________________________________________________________
____________________________________

I swear Bayjaysus the poor man's lost his
head over a golfing gal!
what a wee plunker he was!
as we wheezing along the road
with Dublin castle in view
&
Howth
head
ye'd a tink
we'd married allready!
& he
not
even
seventeen

craaalllwlling under me skirts!
de dirty boy!
a
scamp of a shagger
him
I'd say
he
was a
peeler's cross
over me
knees
ripe
for
his

p
u
n
i
s
h
m
e
n
t

the discontining saga broken junket of love's brown shit incomplete

___ love's a brown paper bag with a dollar sign strung around

its neck chunk chunk chunk chew chew chew you got it too

its red brown and shittier than a vase with a double dollar sign roun its neck

dollars to the good guys. sign and train. research for rich. come uppanance

for few . clacks the solo ricket.

not a bleak view on your paid out fat stomach

bulge of your culinary .

shitE

and the shit of love

puked its grain the excluded third first man

and the many.

t o say nothing

whore

shit to to the brown paper. exhausted poverty of expository. the pronouns drummed high death. a wilted life for the board of sack. venzetti and credit.

is that your voice forced? come along golly. folly to yer travel mania. the trips of the paid research scientist ar enot more legitimate than the infinite game of 'philosopher' and 'arts academic' and the eternal shine of the conference game. what excludes excludes.

some say this is bad

others say it is their right. a land for free for all. and poor. the 'dark' has come moon and light. the world.a fortured light. screwed on the table.

___________________humdrum _ and blind. so the winging terror speaks. free a t final from sight that blinds

__________________________ the conspiracy's always been against love.

it's love that's attacked

love's that's punished

banished

perjured

imagination

torched

so your reckoning the good

suffers

for the bad

the dual

tripe

buries

the

ripe

the 'rules' were not set

by you

___________the big boys told me it was too long

the little boys and their girl companions

told me it was not

clear

and

didnt fit the match

ing square

box

(its too long

its not clear

=meant

its too beautiful

too great

i cant cope

youre too

good

im fucked out

repressed

mummy lover

you fucked

you are better than me Cliff

I hate your guts

is what was meant

and perhaps

between the various forms of envy

and self loathing hatred

there was bitterness

about his long standing hysteric bitch

about to bereplaced what bereif

is this

by the second

hysteric

bitch

a grant wininning

separatist

complaining about her 'pays'

(nationalisms's always been the cheap

shot of the weak and resentful

can you explain

what you were doing with this all these years

Ah ~ but it was of course a convenience

and nothing for you to lose your life

for

but your crummy rhetoric

about hands and planes

you fat one

you second rate imitation of the truly creative

your spirit's always been

rucked

by envy

)

(I was never fooled

after you kissed Alan Lord's arse

you gutless

asslicker)

(you had a fire once

but traded it in for the

whatever it is of convenience

after I got sober

it looked for a time

yet you turned

into the parvenu

you'd denounced

years before

you always knew who to sidle up to didnt you?
you always had that handle

)

and

(your overbloated

oedipal pal

and his exploding head

whispered voice

sucking in all the young jacks

from the middle and upper middle class

of mcgill and concordia

the

game was well planned

wasnt it

and that sleazy two bit 'journlst

from that whore supported rag

mirros shit

going on and on a

bout that bitter man Ian

no mean performer

i admit

but you and your crew

had it sized up

eh?

down with Duff

if he dont parlay

the five ten minute

walk

you wanted

with

the

Generation

and their

Kidss

and

you

Did

And that other blanked

headed foghorn

the

kidd bust)

You always played

it safe

keeping

your cards

you said

to me

when I was 24

and you

)

her 'disctinct society'

and no

doubt her society

was distinct

matching his moralistic

rage

the upspeak like

verssus

the spoken

rhetoric

of old

whiners

friends

who'd laid

their travel

plans

well

jerking

out the circus

for their freelunch

mister

americano

become canadiano

with his

two

french canadian

hysterics

and their separatists

politics

then the years

of sentencing

that following

indenture

to the

crucifiyiing'

machine

of academic

holiness

and what is this

theory

of that

arse

whole

sniff

the of dead

'poet's

underware

his well worn

urn

yearn

his underware

and paradise pity

party

this

and so many others

came my way harming the hoot

harming the harmony

harming my love

harming my neighborliness

harming the truth

of the stillness

killin the joy

punishing the joy

-----------------------so now the pushy body of your sexy summer ~ tear and wear now the division

but vision of love's patron ~.

1.Mister Earl is on the way

2. galaxies travel in groups. blood vessels. clamp.the worst thing is scientist's upspeak. she came around the end of her arching. sentence. to try its booster. does it

next weather rises. Zarathustra in 'outer space' lounging at cafe.

3. CD: i was there once. yes.

3B. CP: and did you get married then? You were teaching in Brazil in 1978 and Gail was in France. So you missed the 78 lectures .

CD:Yes, I did but you know what it was exciting to spend close to a year in Brazil at that time. There were changes and exciting innovations in the fields that I was interested in. As for marriage I never got married to Gail. I never married her or anyone... it's a tradition I don't marry, we live together .

CP _ So after Brazil tell me where did you go?

CD: I went to Montreal for a short visit , then Ireland proper, and after we went to what was called Yugoslavia .. not for long.... In the fall I was back at Vincennes whenever I could. All in all I lived overseas more or less permanently from 1972 until 1989. In the summer of 1970 I had attended a free art school called the Sussex school of Fine Ars. In 1990, I came back here worked and published a book, Farewell Weather to Fine Friends that same year... I had gone to India, and Japan, and a few places in North Africa (Egypt, Mozambique) . I'd been to other Eastern block countries as well. I started a degree in England, but really the school I went to was Vincennes, and the times at Kingsly Hall, and later what was called the Arbours, Ann Arbours Association in Londond... I told you this before. In the 90's I began to stay in Montreal more... to work, and I started to think about taking actual degrees... but I waited a long time...

_______________________________

Caterpillar: Who are YOU?

Alice: This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. I -- I hardly know, sir, just at present -- at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.

___________________

_______________________________MOnstrous hybrids

_____________________

Jill says to Dada enough politics ~

_________________________

forest

__________________________

dada harold bloom on funD A MenTalisms in America ~

Bloom on “Biblicism” (the Southern Baptists as an example)

Selected excerpts from Harold Bloom, The American Religion (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1992)

…The overwhelming urgency (and viciousness) of Southern Baptist Fundamentalism surpasses all other American instances of that errancy, and makes it shockingly similar to Iranian Shiite Fundamentalism or the worst excesses of the Neturei Karta in Israel. In a most grievous way, the strength and uniqueness of the Moderate Southern Baptist tradition, as codified by Mullins, involuntarily helped produce the furious anti-intellectualism of Criswell, Pressler, and the other representative leaders of the now dominant Fundamentalist faction of the Southern Baptist Convention.

The mystical distrust of language in the Moderates, with its attendant repudiation of theology, is reduced by the Fundamentalists to a total devaluation of all language and all thought. Even as Fundamentalists insist upon the inerrancy of the Bible, they give up all actual reading of the Bible, since in fact its language is too remote and difficult for them to begin to understand. What is left is the Bible as physical object, limp and leather, a final icon or magical talisman. To read Criswell or any other Fundamentalist clergyman on the Bible is almost a literal impossibility, at least for me, because they are not writing about the text, in any sense whatsoever of text, or of that text.

They write about their own dogmatic social, political, cultural, moral, and even economic convictions, and biblical texts simply are quoted, with frenetic abandon, whether or not they in any way illustrate or even approach the areas where the convictions center. They are quoted also as though they interpreted themselves and were perfectly transparent in their meanings-

It seems heartless to blame the Moderate Baptists for any aspect of this absurdity, but no Southern Baptist (as such) seems to be much at home with or in language. Theology depends upon analogies, arguments, metaphors, all of which enforce the difference between words and the realities they represent. Fundamentalist Baptists never even seem to realize that the Bible is in the first place language. But Moderate Baptists, being sincere and pragmatic Enthusiasts in their unmediated relationship to Jesus, tend to despair that the unmediated experience they have of Jesus ever can be represented in language. We thus have the paradox that the Fundamentalists resent or ignore language, while the Moderates at best are ambivalent towards it, and probably even fear it, since they do not wish it to mediate Jesus for them.

Christian Fundamentalism essentially is a North American phenomenon; except for the United States and Canada, it has had an indigenous life only in Ulster. Its other worldwide manifestations tend to be exported from the United States. Yet I cannot regard it as anything but a parody of what I have called the American Religion. Its spiritual content, to the religious critic, is difficult to locate. This was not always so; there were some serious intellects involved in later nineteenththrough earlier twentieth-century Fundamentalism. Today, there are none, and yet

Fundamentalism threatens to become almost a synonym for Evangelicalism in contemporary America. Partly this is caused by media overreporting, and by the plain shock experienced by our upper-middle-class public each time they find themselves yet again allied with lowermiddle-class Fundamentalists in the support of Reagan, Bush, and their party.

The moral agenda of the Fundamentalists is rather drab, and, like Bush, generally reduces to waving the flag and the fetus at us as though these constituted a single entity.…

[Bloom 228-230, 232]