Dog stuff...

So my friend is reading Ulysses for a class and she was describing to me this one part (I've never read it) that was about the main character imagining this dog. Of course, it's in Joyce's language, but it immediately caught my attention and I wanted to share this passage. Very interesting...

A bloated carcass of a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack....

A point, live dog, grew into sight running across the sweep of sand. Lord, is he going to attack me? Respect his liberty. You will not be the master of others or their slave. I have my stick. Sit tight. From farther away, walking shoreward across from the crested tide, firgures, two. The two maries. They have it tucked safe mong the bulrushes. Peekaboo. I see you. No, the dog. He is running back to them. Who?
...

The dog's bark ran towards him, stoppped, ran back. Dog of my enemy. I just simply stood pale, silent, bayed about. Terribla meditans. A primrose doublet, fortune's knafe, smiled on my fear. For that are you pining, the bark of their applause? ... Their dog ambled about a bank of dwindling sand, trotting, sniffing on all sides. Looking for something lost in a past life. Suddenly he made off like a bounding hare, ears flung back, chasing the shadow of a lowskimming gull. The man's shrieked whistle struck his limp ears. He turned, bounded back, came nearer, trotted on twinkling shanks. On a field tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unatired. At the lacefringe of the tide he halted with stiff forehoofs, seawardpointed ears. His snout lifted barked at the wavenoise, herds of seamorse. They serpented twoards his feet, curling, unfurling many crests, every ninth, breaking, plashing, from far, from farther out, waves and waves.

Cocklepickers. They waded a little way in the water and, stooping, soused their bags and, lifting them again, waded out. The dog yelped running to them, reared up and pawed them, dropping on all fours, again reared up at them with mute bearish fawning. Unheeded he kept by them as they came towards the drier sand, a rag of wolf's tongue redpanting from his jaws. His specked body ambled ahead of them and then loped off at a claf's gallop. The carcass lay on his path. He stopped, sniffed, stalked round it, brother, nosing closer, went round it, sniffling rapidly like a dog all over the dead dog's bedraggled fell. Dogskull, dogsniff, eyes on the ground, moves to one great goal. Ah, poor dogsbody! Here lies poor dogsbody's body.

-Tatters! Out of that, you mongrel!
The cry brough him skulking back to his master and a blunt bootless kick sent him unscathed across a spit of snad, crouched in flight. He slunk back in a curve. Doesn't see me. Along by the edge of the mole he lolloped, dawdled, smelt a rock. And from under a cocked hindleg pissed against it. He trotted forward and, lifting again his hindleg, pissed quick short at an unsmelt rock. The simple pleasures of the poor. His hindpaws then scattered the sand: then his forepaws dabbled and delved. Something he buried there, his grandbother. He rooted in the sand, dabbling, delving and stopped to listen to the air, scraped up the sand again witha fury of his claws, soon ceasing, a pard, a panther, got in spousebreach, vulturing the dead.

Ping Pong

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-dcmDscwEcI

watch it. just a really cool idea for controlling some balls, you know... not necessarily possible, but just to have something to think about.

Random searches

Blumfeld (German pronunciation: [ˈbluːmfɛlt]) was an indie-pop band from Hamburg, Germany, which arose from the bands "Arm", "Laut" and "Der schwarze Kanal". The name of the band was coined by the main character of the short story "Blumfeld, ein älterer Junggeselle" by Franz Kafka. Blumfeld are counted among the most significant representatives of the Hamburger Schule (School of Hamburg) and are considered to be one of the most successful combos of the German indie scene.

Blumfeld's music is characterized by a distinctive dispute of human life in the context of modern consumer society. Fears, depressions, uncertainty, lack of orientation and love as main motive are the most important items, which are made a subject of discussion. The mainly melancholic music is seen as having a pessimistic tone.

I think this is really interesting, especially the second paragraph. I like espcially the idea of "lack of orientation" and "dispute of human life in the context of modern consumer society." It sounds pretty pretentious, and also a lot like Kafka.

Also, I looked up charwoman. I was unsure if it had any other meaning other than just a woman who is hired to clean. It is that, except it's usually in a large building (which makes sense), but I also found some really nice pictures:

Hey guys! This is out blog!

Here's a picture to start us off...