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Too busy, are you, Carr, to bother with an honest question from a self-professed student of the era who recognises ULYSSES as a work of genius, and unlikely she knows of you in any other connection except as a character in the “Circe” episode, you canting servant of the tottering crown. As for Tzara, he’s rooting in the sand like the mongrel of art he is, dabbling, delving and - ah, stopped to listen to the air, scraped up the sand again with a fury of his claws, soon ceasing, a pard, a panther, got in spousebreach, vulturing the dead.
So it’s left to me to explain.
Miss Amandada, not that I’d assign a putrid carcasefed breath’s worth of acclaim to an inveterate punster like that Czech-born Tom Stoppard whose inspiration’s not half of my own, but if you read his play TRAVESTIES, you’ll find the precise origin of our strolls through treeshade of sunnywinking leaves.
As to why here, it’s to stay out of the way of the noisy equivalent of Dublin streetcars and maintain pure radiance a beacon ever to the stormtossed heart of man, Mary, star of the sea.
And if you want to put names to the guilty parties, you might blame that Phan woman and that zeppo character, plus occasional supporting cast members.
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