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- Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a man standing on a
pillar in the middle of Dublin and this man who was standing on a pillar was
called Nelson. His father told him that story.
The pillar was gone now, expanded exploded into a column of steel. He leaned
back against it and tilted his head upwards, his gaze following the
shaft up on and ever on towards the wing-melting sun to the vanishing point
of heaven. He proves by algebra that the vanishing point does not exist.
Letting his head fall back down, he sees through the crowd the man himself,
leaning on his bronze ashplant, staring through bronze eyes down towards
the unvanishing point of the G.P.O.
He makes a right angle with his body, his back resting against the cold
metal and his legs stretched out towards the vanishing point of Talbot
Street, on past Joyce past Quiznos past Golden Discs past the Polish
grocery store and on and ever on to Connolly station.
The Spire omphalos the navel the centre. He touched the back of his head
against the hard smooth surface and wondered if it was a pump, and if so,
where was the handle and what did it pump out into the streets around it?
Or did it pump its contents underground, underneath it all? He had heard
that there were tunnels under O’Connell Street from the Gate Theatre.
Omphalos omphalos omphalos phalos phallus. The stiffy by the Liffey. The
prick in the sticks. The Styx. The Liffey. A ha’penny for Charon, who sits
on the bridge with a paper cup, and you can get to Temple Bar. Ireland,
they say, has the honour of being the only country which never persecuted
the jews, because she never let them in. So why the need to bar their
temples? On the way there he’d pass the hags with the bags, just outside
Pravda, the Russian bar. Possibly Polish. The Polish Bar.
A big issue woman passed by where he sat and vanished into the crowd flowing
and pumping around in a vortex of Irish Polish Romanian Russian Chinese
Japanese American British Nigerian Spanish white black brown pink yellow
red orange catholics protestants jews gentiles hindus hare krishnas muslims
mormons atheists communists socialists anarchists fascists unionists half-
pissseds terrorists republicans publicans businessmen tinkers tailors
soldiers sailors saints scholars prostitutes pimps thieves murderers
rapists papists born-agains jehovahs priests rabbis reverends preachers
teachers students.
History was a nightmare from which he was trying to awake. History was a
lecture from which he was trying to escape. He stretched himself out and
made his body parallel to the spire behind him.
I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of commuting and to
forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated created recreated destroyed
constructed destructed reconstructed deconstructed exploded expanded
compressed repressed oppressed inescapable inevitable ineffable infallible
ineluctable conscience of my race consciousness conscience unconsciousness
of my race my race. My race. He wondered what that was as his DART trundled
past a graffiti-covered Martello tower and on and ever on towards the
vanishing point of the future.
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