If your house is at all like mine (and let’s hope it’s not, let’s hope it’s, in fact, very little like mine, with the tangerine walls and the petting zoo and the flora and god knows what sort of fauna hidden in the balls of hair BUT), tonight you will not sleep at all, as you lie awake waiting up watching the clock tick down to Bloomsday morning and what might be waiting for you in your stockings. I, for one, have been very good all year, what with all the podcasting, and am expecting the Bloomsday elves to acknowledge this as fact.
A rare exercise in linkage for those new to Bloomsday festivities:
What I consider the definitive site on all online Bloomsday cheer.
For those in New York, you can listen to Bloomsday on Broadway on the radio or spend lots of money on tickets to watch those (much more adept at reading than your Miette) read it to you. Or maybe you’d rather listen online
The short of it, for those who can’t be bothered to follow links: listen to Joyce and drink an awful lot today.
This from Dubliners: