Dale Williams Barrigar

Silence, Exile, and Cunning: a Credo, a Screed, a Missive, a Memoir by Dr. Dale Williams Barrigar

(Images provided by the Good Doctor DWB)

“Let my country die for me.” – James Joyce

“The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring.” – James Joyce

“Shut your eyes and see.” – James Joyce

(Note: We conclude another fine week by our Editor DWB. And for the time being he will be appearing in months to come with full weeks. The offer is open to many of our friends who have published previously with us. So, something to consider–Leila)

This un-mundane but minuscule screed possesses a very specific target audience. It is aimed directly at anyone who has ever lived, is now living, or will ever live who has even the tiniest bit of interest in the Irish author James Joyce, or in creative writing itself as purely an art form.

The greater your interest in HIM (and he is his work) or the greater your interest in creative writing as art, the greater your interest in this missive will be. There is much so-called “creative writing” that is much closer to formulaic hack writing than it is to what we (I) mean when we say “art.” This kind of commercialized-hack-writing-as-creative-writing tends to win things like the Pulitzer Prize, the Booker Prize and even the Nobel Prize – to prove this all you need to do is look backward at the list/s of writers and works which have historically won these so-called prizes; Joyce himself, the greatest fiction writer in English of the twentieth century (by far), never won any major prizes and was never even nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature. Joyce is the greatest fiction writer in English of the twentieth century, which bears repeating. More than this, forced to make a list of the top half-dozen writers of the English language so far in any genre, that list would be: William Shakespeare; Geoffrey Chaucer; John Milton; William Wordsworth; James Joyce; and Jonathan Swift; in that order. Maybe Emily Dickinson, Emily Bronte, Edgar Allan Poe (just ask them in France), Walt Whitman, John Keats, John Donne or William Blake could replace someone in this list. (All such lists are really just a speculative game, of course, except for the first four, which are really a historical fact.)

Spiritual events are the biggest events in our lives. In many ways, somehow unrequited romantic love (including but not limited to the death of the loved one as in Poe) is an unbeatable spiritual event – and by that I especially mean small cap’s romantic love when it is propelled by capital R-and-L Romantic Love, i.e. the kind of love that was also preached and practiced by the British Romantics such as Blake, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Keats, Byron, and the Shelleys, all of whom had their profound influences on James Joyce (he once dubbed himself a modern-day synthesis of Daniel Defoe of Robinson Crusoe fame, and William Blake).

Joyce has been and is one of the biggest spiritual events in my own life so far on a personal level. As such, this screed that is also a missive is also a memoir of a little over 1,300 words, which is around the average length of one of Paul’s letters or many of Hemingway’s best stories.

I started reading Joyce when I was around fifteen years old in the American Midwest. In many ways, I was finished reading Joyce by the time I was around twenty or so, even though I’ve continued to reread him to a greater or lesser extent in every year of the last thirty-nine years. So I absorbed, and even memorized, much of Joyce still during the time/s when my youth made me very, very impressionable.

All young people who have the gift or the penchant for reading or who have a questing soul at all should read and reread some of James Joyce when they are young if they are lucky, specifically the first four stories in his collection Dubliners, which blow The Catcher in the Rye out of the water but are in the same vein and should be read first or beside it, along with Hemingway’s Nick Adams stories. If these four Joyce pieces accidentally missed you when you were “young,” but you are still young inside, go to these stories now and your haunting youth will be magically returned to you in all its best, and worst, aspects. The complete realism of these brief yet all-encompassing tales is comforting even as their idealism inspires, or makes the breath quicken.

The rest of this writing will present in brief yet pungent and cogent form what are my own personal favorite things in James Joyce as of right now. His work is endless to meditation so some items shall be, I am sure, accidentally omitted but what is presented here can also be seen as an outline of his most important work from the heart and soul of one loving reader’s perspective.

…

DUBLINERS.

The first four stories: “The Sisters,” “An Encounter,” “Araby,” and “Eveline.”

“The Boarding House” from the middle of the collection and “The Dead” from the end, and especially the end of “The Dead,” and especially the very last paragraph of this long story or short novella.

“The Dead”: the dramatic, life-altering moments between the MC and his wife in their hotel room around Christmastime will never leave you. The last paragraph of “The Dead” is, hands down, one of the greatest paragraphs ever written in the English language, a fact that has been acknowledged by many long before me and will continue to be acknowledged by many long after “yours truly” has departed this mortal sphere (praise God may it not be for a while, thy will be done). I personally have read this paragraph not hundreds but thousands of times. It is like a sad song I replay over and over when alone in the car, but better.

…

A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN.

The title of this book alone has had a massive impact on my entire life at every level I can possibly imagine, an impact so vast it feels beyond Jungian in its depth, oldness, oddness, and neverendingness.

The sea girl on the seaside like a sea bird and Stephen’s limerence-like fascination with the girl, the bird, and the sea. The beautiful longing of it all.

The experimental and experiential opening of this novel which actually captures all of infancy, babyhood, and toddlerhood in less than one page from the kid’s perspective.

The friend with friend notations and conversations that end the book.

The phrase “silence, exile, and cunning” which became one of my own personal credos when I was a teenager and remains so until today, and will be tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow after that, too. Among other things, the rebellious spirit of the original rock and roll is contained within this phrase. One of the greatest influences on Bob Dylan ever is and was James Joyce, by Dylan’s own admission.

There is SO MUCH in these literal and metaphorical four words when put together like this that you can literally build an entire life on and around it.

It is more than an impenetrable fence but it is also an impenetrable fence, the only kind that can allow for true growth of the spirit and the personality, the only real possession we can ever possess here on Planet Earth.

…

ULYSSES.

The title itself, alone, along with all it implies.

The “friends” episode in the sea tower at the beginning of the book.

Leopold Bloom’s eternal peregrinations.

Stephen and Bloom drunk together in the whorehouse and elsewhere, wandering around.

MOLLY BLOOM, especially her end (“Yes”) in more ways than one.

Marilyn Monroe wanted to make a movie where she played Molly.

…

FINNEGANS WAKE.

The title itself.

Finnegans – plural. Wake – verb.

Resurrection, reincarnation, and/or all of the above.

The Irish drinking song where the title comes from: a drunk guy in Chicago falls off a ladder, dies, then springs to life again at his own funeral, leaping out of his own casket and SMILING at all his friends and enemies.

Her name: Anna Livia Plurabelle. And the rivers of life.

His name: H.C.E. (Here Comes Everybody.)

Shem the Penman.

The alpha and the omega: the beginning and the end.

James Joyce Quotation Collage by Dale Williams Barrigar

Greetings!

This is, above all, NOT some random collection of quotations randomly tossed together by some enigmatic and bored outsider from the American Midwest who’s (once again) too high on microdoses of magic mushrooms, edible marijuana, and too much green tea and Gabapentin. Instead, this is a very, very, very, very, very, very, very carefully curated, selected, shaped, arranged, and FORMED collage of quotations that can stand as its own separate work of art on many many many many levels, just as the collages of Picasso and Braque could do the same. I do not limit nor count my borrowings, said Montaigne, I weigh them.

As such, this tissue of words can be utilized primarily in one of two ways, or (preferably) in both-at-once ways. If you, the Reader, can think of other ways to use these (this), please feel free to freely do so at whatever levels or in whatever ways your mind or nerves can handle.

A: It can be used as an exceedingly useful summary of the entire life’s work of the Irish author James Joyce (and James Joyce himself WAS his work at a level that perhaps surpasses (almost) anyone else).

B: It can be used as a piece of twenty-first century wisdom writing (like an advice column for seekers) all in its own right.

James Joyce is one of the funniest writers who ever lived which is to say he’s one of the greatest comic writers who ever inhabited Planet Earth, as the brilliant genius Anthony Burgess never tired of pointing out to anyone who’d listen to him (and it was usually far fewer than you might imagine, even after a certain novel of his was made into an exceedingly famous motion picture which had almost nothing to do with the original novel at all).

Joyce also possessed (as do so many true comedians) incredible wisdom about life.

Read on 2 find out.

(FYI: this is also a companion piece to my forthcoming written work “Silence, Exile, and Cunning: a Credo, a Screed, a Missive, a Memoir.” I call it a “written work” because it doesn’t have a genre except perhaps for the ones enumerated in the title. It shall come forth tomorrow.)

“Shut your eyes and see.”

“Let my country die for me.”

“Love loves to love love.”

“First we feel. Then we fall.”

“As I walked along in the sun I remembered old Cotter’s words and tried to remember what had happened afterwards in the dream.”

“We walked along the North Strand Road till we came to the Vitriol Works and then turned to the right along the Wharf Road.”

“Meeting her a third time by accident he found courage to make an appointment. She came.”

“The sad quiet greyblue glow of the dying day came through the window and the open door, covering over and allaying quietly a sudden instinct of remorse in Stephen’s heart.”

“Think you’re escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.”

“The object of the artist is the creation of the beautiful. What the beautiful is is another question.”

“The heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit.”

“It is as painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision as to be born.”

“You can still die when the sun is shining.”

“I will not serve that in which I no longer believe and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can.”

“The whole face is of an ascetic, inspired, whole souled, wonderfully passionate man. It is Christ, as the Man of Sorrows, his raiment red as of them that tread in the winepress. It is literally Behold the Man.”

“Old father, old artificer, stand me now and ever in good stead.”

Dale Williams Barrigar

(Image provided by DWB)

How It Ends: An Attempt by Dr. Dale Williams Barrigar

“The thrill is gone away from me.” – B.B. King

If it lasts long enough, every “relationship” (as in romantic relationship) comes to the point where Ignored or Insulted (or both) become the primary mode/s.

One of the parties feels let down. This disappointment leads to feelings of resentment all ‘round. What was once adorable is now monstrous to both sides. The mind turns to revenge fantasies, the love fades like a coal. It is what B.B. meant when he said, “The thrill is gone.” And he did not say it in a happy or half-hearted way.

It is impossible for any one person on this Planet to fulfill the expectations of any other person on this Planet in any lastingly fulfilling way. Such is a childish dream. A radical compromise is reached with one dominating or the whole thing explodes into bits rather quickly. As surely as that evening sun goes down.

The happiest people are ALWAYS the ones who spend the most time alone, even if someone else is in the next room. These are also the unhappiest people. It means they are the most alive.

Contrary to popular opinion, it can be exceedingly easy to be alone in a crowd.

Dr. Dale Williams Barrigar

(Image by DWB)

Season Dream(s) by Dale Barrigar Williams

(This week we are pleased to present work by one of America’s under-appreciated writers and academics, Dale Williams Barrigar, who is also the Co-Editor of this site. He has wonderful twin daughters and a damn fine pack of Dogs, too.)

(Image provided by DWB)

Cabin blizzard on Halloween

visiting Alaska

in the evening

every single flake

that falls

memory of you

as

October branches

scratch

at cabin window

sleeping gone

grizzly bears somewhere

near here

but I’m not fearful

Mr. Sasquatch

but what am I trying so hard

swooning

for

as

the last stripe

of red sunlight

now falls down

around old autumn

apple tree

shadows

crooked trunk

tree branches

turbulent truculent

dreams of another world

in only half sleep

all night long

next morning

November

One

there is an

alone woodpecker

in sudden sunlight red and gray

and his feathers too

are red and gray

as his drummings

on the tree they

sound

like rock and roll…

Dale Williams Barrigar

Love Itself? The Drifter

(Images by the Drifter)

“Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving / Then say goodbye to Alexandra lost.”

– Leonard Cohen

“Both in this world and in the Hereafter, I am the nearest of all people to Jesus, the son of Mary. He was not crucified.” – Muhammad

“Literature will lay truth open upon a higher level.” – William Carlos Williams

Our definition of love has grown too narrow, where we are now and here (2026 USA).

We say we love our spouse (if we are chained to one), our family, our new toaster, our new car, our latest luxury vacation. We say we love our new toaster, and the new (latest) technology they are always jamming down our throats. And all these things can be good to love. But loving them is not enough.

We say “LOVE” is about romance between two people (or three). We say we love the way our new lifestyle is turning out.

It is not enough to love but a few things.

The crucial message of Jesus, the one and only real message of his, the message the early Christians truly began to understand only AFTER he was gone (wherever he went), the message which completely contains all the other messages, the message that should be the ruling principle of the whole world, is this:

We should love LIFE ITSELF.

Even if we are being crucified.

On the cross, Christ cried out: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

Loving all of life itself does not preclude getting angry at God and asking WHY when right seems right. Jesus showed that too, as did Job before him. But in their despair, they were talking to God, NOT turning away from life.

There are many ways to talk to God and many moments, hours, or days remain for an opportunity to do this. It is NOT necessary to call it “prayer.”

Talking to God is loving life, no matter your method of doing so and no matter how angry you are. We are supposed to turn toward that when we are desperate, despairing or angry, if we can. God has a twisted sense of humor much like our own, it just may be. And just because someone doesn’t answer out loud doesn’t mean they’re not listening. Sometimes the best listeners never say anything at all. (And when She does speak, She speaks in a whisper, usually…)

Whether we are at the end of civilization or at the birth of a new civilization that is (almost invisibly) being built upon the ruins of the old one matters not one tiny jot.

Now is the time we have and now is the time we’re going a-swimming in. It never stops ticking by even for an instant even though it seems like it does, sometimes, if only for an instant or two.

It is good to love individual people, animals, plants, places, and even things, if you don’t go overboard on this last item, or for that matter any of the former items, either. Leonardo da Vinci loved water. He loved water, looking at it, dreaming over it, drawing it, writing about it, personifying it. Loving water was, for him, like loving all of life itself.

Loving only a few specific people or things is not enough. By far it is not enough.

We must LOVE all of LIFE ITSELF no matter what.

Those who do this are called by the Taoists “seed people.” Jesus also talked about those who sow the seed. There are many of these among us, but these days they appear to be in the minority BIG TIME as well.

Seed people love life even when they hate it.

They never limit their love to a single nationality, a single sexual identity, a single source of economic security, nor a single spouse who is your favorite personality.

WE HAVE TO LOVE IT ALL. All of life. Like we always continue to love the people who have left us no matter how they have left us but are still there in a different guise (as their spirits are haunting us in those things called MEMORY and DREAMS).

Jesus also said, “Do not throw your pearls before these swine.”

Because all they will do is trample them down into the mud.

The Drifter

On the Algorithm by The Drifter

(All images by The Drifter)

Instead of only blaming the inventors, propagators and perpetrators of these products, we should turn the blame around once in a while and place it squarely on the individual consumer/s of said products as well. No one is placing a gun against anyone’s head in this matter. Take it from one who once had a gun placed against his head on a Chicago sidewalk. And a switchblade placed right below his eye in a Kansas City tavern. And a frying pan swung (hard) in the direction of his head in the kitchen. (The author of this opinion piece is good at ducking, fleeing, and flying (out the back door), as well as staring people down – or talking them out of it when necessary.)

Ruthless billionaire businessmen ye shall always have with you. In 2026 USA, one has the option to ignore them, or at least not to utilize their products beyond what’s necessary, selective, or right, depending on the situation.

They have figured out a way to feed the people exactly what the people wish to eat. And the people go to the hand of the master and lap up the usual b.s. because it is the usual b.s. they long and crave for. If universal wisdom, truth, love and beauty were popular and profitable, the business people would sell that instead.

There are some people who are not in control of their minds and thus have gone out of their minds by feeding their minds on nothing but The Algorithm.

As for the rest of us, we have the option to opt out and choose better materials at any time.

It is a matter of cultivating your one and only soul. If you let someone else feed your soul with nothing but junk, you will end up with a nothing, junk soul created by someone else, which will mean that you have abdicated your personality, the only real possession you possess in this vale of tears. This egregious and pathetic non-condition will not serve you, or others, well when the shit hits the fan, as it’s sure to do again and again in this world that is both spiritual battleground and mortal coil.

The Algorithm is not a gun against anyone’s head. You can choose NOT TO CLICK ON IT and not even to look at it at all, for that matter. Any addict who’s ever gotten over anything can tell you that you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. Nietzsche said, “There are so many things in this world I never want to know.” He knew a little and ignored the rest. He also said, “Whatever doesn’t kill me makes me stronger,” right before going permanently insane.

A great picture is infinitely more valuable than a bad book (and can be read almost in the same way as reading a good book (and as the book of nature can also be read)).

Sincerely,

The Drifter

Nine Things Boo Be Do that Freak Me Out

(All images by the Drifter)

“Number nine, number nine, number nine, number nine…” – The Beatles

When I say “freak me out,” I mean in a good way.

(To the elite few of you who want to review who Boo is, see photos.)

ONE: Sometimes constantly watches me from across the room of the book-strewn apartment as if to make sure I’m all right (until he dozes off, which happens just as frequently).

TWO: Catches wild squirrels in his mouth between his fangs, doesn’t chomp down upon them, drops them down onto the ground and sets them free, then watches them flee (run away) without going after them.

THREE: Leaps into my lap when he gets scared.

FOUR: Hides behind me when he gets scared if I’m standing up.

FIVE: Puts himself between me and whoever it is when someone is approaching us at night along the sidewalks or in the alleyways of the Chicagoland area we roam through (or wherever we roam through). If it’s more than one person approaching, becomes even more fearlessly vigilant.

SIX: Follow verbal commands when they, paradoxically, are not even spoken aloud by me. (In other words: READ MY MIND.)

SEVEN: Refuse to follow commands just as often, and act like he thinks it’s funny, and in his own way, I do believe he thinks it’s funny.

EIGHT: Run so fast that he literally morphs into a black-and-white blur that looks like it’s flying across the ground. Fastest dog I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen many.

NINE: Stare into the distance while intuiting the Spirit World.

(Leading one to the astonishing conclusion that if dogs could talk, we wouldn’t even be able to believe what they would tell us…)

(Bonus point: can climb fences and trees when he wants to bad enough…)

The Drifter and Boo

Two Quotations that Can Save the Day The Drifter

(All images by The Drifter)

“Happy are you when men insult you, and persecute you, and tell all kinds of evil lies against you because you are my followers. Be glad and happy, because a great reward is kept for you in heaven. This is how men persecuted the prophets who lived before you.”

This week The Drifter will write little in order to let two quotations carry the day (four if you count the photos but the D will only write directly about the two quotations included in the text, one above, one below.)

When outrage and despair at the state of the world begin to get you down, to gnaw at, or devour, your mind, heart, and/or soul, these two quotations can bring tranquility and peace in their wake.

But that’s only if you let them work on you. And by work on you, I mean that you have to let these quotations hit you hard. And in order for that to happen, requirement number one is that you must have an open mind, and heart. Secondly, you must be willing to work at it. You have to let the quotations find you where you really are. It used to be called studying. Now when we say “studying” we usually only mean rote learning, i.e. going to “school” and memorizing the dubious “facts” they attempt to jam down your throat. I have two twins who graduated from high school last year, and I myself have taught for a total of at least twenty-three years at many different kinds of colleges and universities all across the rough-and-tumble Midwest, also including a three-year stint at a Catholic elementary school called Saint Leonard Parish School in Berwyn, Illinois, USA, with a ninety-nine percent Mexican student population (Leonard is the patron saint of prisoners, addicts, horses, and depressed people, which is perfect for me, and I also used to listen to Leonard Cohen on my way to and from work every day) (Leonard is also the patron saint of a woman with child or children, i.e. preggo), and I can say with an utter certainty that institutionalized education in the USA no longer encourages critical thinking and imaginative exploration in the way it once did (if it ever did). SELF EDUCATION is just as utterly crucial as it ever was, y’all. Everything is available; now you gotta use it.

The first quote is from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, as recorded by Matthew, the Evangelist. “Evangelist” means someone who brings good news to those who desperately need it. Good news that is not easy to swallow, or follow, either, but is also NOT AN ILLUSION. As Jim Morrison said, you need to break on through to the other side before this News will make you leap out of your seat and begin dancing (metaphorically at least).

The second quotation is an entire sonnet by the English radical poet, Percy Bysshe Shelley, who was a kind of Jim Morrison before Jim Morrison (although much less famous than his friend Lord Byron while they lived). Shelley was born into a cush life and he could have stayed there forever had he wanted to, or had he been born that way. Instead, he threw sand in the face of his whole society almost immediately upon opening his eyes and he fought tooth and nail for the downtrodden and the outcast his entire life, and against hypocrisy (he could smell hypocrisy while still in the cradle) – and he died young (29) because he was worn out young in the struggle. Shelley called for and helped invent the modern form of nonviolent resistance. He inspired Henry David Thoreau, who inspired Leo Tolstoy, who inspired Mahatma Gandhi, who inspired Martin Luther King, Jr., who inspired the recently deceased Reverend Jesse Jackson.

The sonnet is printed here in paragraph form in order to defamiliarize it. It works just as well as a prose paragraph as it does in verse.

It was written just a little over two hundred years ago.

The Drifter will draw out what he believes to be the deepest message for our age after this sonnet which sounds so completely familiar and close to what’s going on in our world now that it should (rightly) give you the chills, or at least goosebumps:

“An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying King; / Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow / Through public scorn – mud from a muddy spring; / Rulers who neither see nor feel nor know, / But leechlike to their fainting country cling / Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow. / A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field; / An army, whom liberticide and prey / Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield; / Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay; / Religion Christless, Godless – a book sealed; / A senate, Time’s worst Statute, unrepealed; / Are graves from which a glorious Phantom may / Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.”

The age of waiting for someone else to do it for you is over. Make yourself be the Glorious Phantom bursting into the True Light, like Shelley did, however persecuted and unfamous he was (and he was both of those things). Everyone has a daimon, or form of genius, inside them. Some choose to cultivate it and will die first before not cultivating it. These are the ones who know the best advice is: DO NOT LET “THEM” GET YOU DOWN (it’s exactly what “they” want). The world has always been this way, and it always will be this way, too (more or less, and more, and less). Even nuclear war or environmental catastrophe, which might wipe out an entire (now global) civilization, is nothing new, since entire civilizations have been wiped out virtually overnight thousands, and maybe even millions, of times – and there has always been the ever-present threat of a dinosaur-destroying-like meteor peeking its head over the horizon at any time, like the worst uninvited guest you could ever imagine (the Native Americans knew this.) “AI”?!? The ancient Egyptians both predicted, and simulated, it, and the cave people in their caves waving their torches around on the cave painting walls while intoning messages to the gods and cutting themselves so they bled profusely while devouring mouthfuls of magic mushrooms had a virtual reality that would knock your socks off if you were wearing any, which they weren’t. Yes, the world has always been this way.

And that means there are always better days waiting somewhere up around the bend. But not in the usual nausea-inducing, Hallmark Greeting Card kind of way.

We always live life for our Future Self (somehow), but we MAKE our future self today. Never stop striving forward with calmness – never (not even when on the threshold of death, or maybe especially not then; Martin Luther, the greatest radical of all time in the modern Western world, believed that everything could change in an instant in that moment).

((Maybe creating is so important to us because the God who made us is also a Creator.))

The Drifter