Gemini.Finnegans.Wake.13
The babbelers with their thangas vain have been (confusium hold them!) they were and went; thigging thugs were and houhnhymn song toms were an comely norgels were and pollyfool fiansees. Menn have thawed, clerks have surssurhummed, the blond has sought of the brune: Elsekiss thou may, mean Kerry piggy?: and the duncledames have countered with the hellish fellows: Who ails tongue coddeau, aspace of dumbillsilly? And they fell upong one another: and themselves they have fallen. And still nowanights and by nights of yore do all bold floras of the field to their shyfaun lovers say only: Cull me ere I wilt to thee!: and, but a little later: Pluck me whilst I blush! Well may they wilt, marry, and profusedly blush, be troth! For that saying is as old as the howitts. Lave a whale a while in a whillbarrow(isn’t it the truath I’m talin ye?) to have fins and flippers that shimmy and shake. Tim Timmycan timped hir, tampting Tam. Fleppety! Flippety! Fleapow!
As Tuesday night unfolds, this paragraph reflects on the transient, fallen nature of human history and contrasts it with the enduring, life-giving cycle of natural desire.
The Fallen World
The paragraph opens with a list of figures from the past who are now gone: babbelers, thigging thugs, houhnhymn song toms (a reference to the intelligent horses in Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels). All these historical types were and went.
Their time was filled with endless, confusing conflicts: blondes arguing with brunettes, ladies with hellish fellows. The result of all this human history is simple:
And they fell upong one another: and themselves they have fallen.
Human society is a story of mutual, inevitable falling.
The Language of Desire
In contrast to this fallen human world, the bold floras of the field (the flowers, representing young women) speak a simple, timeless language to their shyfaun lovers. Their message is a direct and eternal invitation:
Cull me ere I wilt to thee!
Pluck me whilst I blush!
This natural cycle of desire, courtship, and consummation is presented as being as old as the howitts (the hills of Howth). It is an ancient and constant force.
The Rejuvenated Whale 🐋
The paragraph then offers a piece of strange but hopeful folk wisdom:
Lave a whale a while in a whillbarrow(isn’t it the truath I’m talin ye?) to have fins and flippers that shimmy and shake.
This is a direct reference to the great whale (HCE) we saw earlier. The message is that the dead, beached patriarch is not gone for good. If you just “leave” him for a while, he can be transformed. The static, fallen giant becomes a creature with lively fins and flippers that shimmy and shake. His name, Finnegan, is echoed in the “fins,” and he is ready to begin again.
The piece ends with the onomatopoeic sounds of this new life: Fleppety! Flippety! Fleapow! It is the sound of flirting, dancing, and the life force reasserting itself, turning the tragedy of the fall into the comedy of a new courtship.
12/08/2025, P.15.27, to be continued.