Part of WordPress’s writing course Finding Everyday Inspiration.
Today’s writing challenge suggests that we rewrite James Joyce’s Ulysses. I’m on it, so see you in seven years. Wait.
Wait, I don’t mean that you wait seven years! The prompt is actually to write a story set within a single day, like Ulysses. Fine.
I will rework the book, base it on my day and will style it to convey the same impression that attempting to read a few pages of Ulysses gave me. My impression was that of a self-indulgent, neurotic and pretentious piece of text(s) that was never intended to be read by anyone but its author.
Why, no, I have no default reverence for classics only because they are classics. If you’re up to reading a strenuously detailed chronicle of what I’ve been up to today rather than what Joyce’s Leopold Bloom was up to on 16 June 1914, grab a mug like the one (two) below and let’s get down to it.
Slept without sleeping pill. That is, didn’t sleep. Woke up 11:15. Too early. Went back to not sleeping.
Alarm at 12:00 | Cuddle the cat. Feed the cat, give her water, clean the litter. Coffee brewing while bathroom.
Then | Coffee and cigarette no. 1. Yoga. Feels great. Then feels boring. The corpse pose. I can’t even.
Then | Saturday, so vacuuming. Take rubbish to the bin. Check mailbox. Avoid neighbours.
Then | Yogurt drink and cigarette no. 2. Out at the balcony. Fucking freezing.
Then | Reply emails. Cigarette no. 3.
3:14–4:45 | Copywriting. New banknotes in India. Again. Country is a mess. I’m wiped. Cigarette no. 4.
5:00 | Cook. Eat. Try not to sleep. Message beep: Movie tonight @ 8? Hell no. Ok then. Cigarette no. 5.
6:00 | Reply blog comments. Remove chipped nail polish. File nails. Have shower. Lost track of cigarette nos.
8:00 | Movie. Fun. Then boring. Dozing off. When will this end? Oh there’s a cat!
10:11 | Home. Fuck that. Work ahead. Miles to go before I sleep. Robert Frost.
I’m done. Now imagine that someone writes an entire bulky book like this. I mean, incomprehensible to anyone but himself. In this case herself. I’m tempted to annotate the above text for you but that would lose the Joycean charm.