On June 6th (D-Day anniversary) I forgot to post my annual link to the recording of the live (1944) radio broadcast from NBC out of New York. Coverage started maybe around 1am when they were getting reports from Berlin radio. It really is something to play this and listen straight through. I had it on once all day while i was working, i think for the 65th anniversary of D-day (Overlord, more specifically). Anyway, if you like a little history, this is a decent dose. Hairs on the back of your neck, and all that. Kinda spooky.
Complete day, D-Day Radio Broadcast
The other thing I forgot to do was clog the board with some lame-O reference to 'Ulysses' (James Joyce) and Bloom's Day (June 16th). Ah well. No one cared for it when i DID do it. So I'm sure it wasn't missed. :laugh:
If I'd managed, I might have posted a reference to cooking with smoke:
"Two shafts of soft daylight fell across the flagged floor from the high barbicans: and at the meeting of their rays a cloud of coalsmoke and fumes of fried grease floated, turning."
or this, the passage (heavily edited) where Bloom is buying a pork kidney at the butcher's, standing behind the maid who lives/works next door. He's hoping the butcher will hurry up so Bloom can catch up and follow behind as she walks home. It's a nicely odd combination of food and lust:
"He halted before Dlugacz's window, staring at the hanks of sausages, polonies, black and white. The shiny links packed with forcemeat fed his gaze and he breathed in tranquilly the lukewarm breath of cooked spicy pig's blood.
A kidney oozed bloodgouts on the willowpatterned dish: the last. He stood by the nextdoor girl at the counter. Would she buy it too, calling the items from a slip in her hand.
"And a pound and a half of Denny's sausages" she said. His eyes rested on her vigorous hips. Woods his name is. Wonder what he does. Wife is oldfish. New blood. No followers allowed. Strong pair of arms. Whacking a carpet on the clothesline. She does whack it, by George. The way her crooked skirt swings at each whack.
The ferreteyed porkbutcher folded the sausages he had snipped off with blotchy fingers, sausagepink. Sound meat there like a stallfed heifer.
He took up a page from the pile of cut sheets. He held the page aslant patiently, bending his senses and his will, his soft subject's gaze at rest.
That crooked skirt swinging whack by whack by whack.
The porkbutcher snapped two sheets from the pile, wrapped up her prime sausages and made a red grimace.
-- Now, my miss, he said.
She tendered a coin, smiling boldly, holding her thick wrist out.
-- Thank you, my miss. And one shilling threepence change. For you, please?
Mr Bloom pointed quickly. To catch up and walk behind her if she went slowly, behind her moving hams. Pleasant to see first thing in the morning. "