Mr. Joyce Takes on the World

Meditation on London 2 Westminster Bridge, just before I walked across it.  The first time I met her I didn’t know what to think. She was loud. She was scented by petrol fumes. There were people clamoring all around her. Everyone wanted to either be with her, be in the same picture with her, or at least have a weekend fling with her. She’s been the mistress of kings and queens. The muse of authors, artists, filmmakers, rock musicians, and fashion icons. The streets that course through her are like veins that carry her lifeblood; her people. It’s the Thames that gives her those curves, as it caresses her sides, and holds her together. It’s like the laces of a corset that zig-zag across her back.             Her name is London.             I can’t help but feel a little smitten with her. I’m in love with Bath. I find Stratford-Upon-Avon charming. Manche...

I've started a Go Fund Me campaign to help pay for my university education. Sad to say, but if this campaign fails then I will have to drop out. I'd hate for six years to go down the drain. Even worse, I'd hate for a promise I made to my mother go unfulfilled.  Help me so that I can help others.  I'm offering up some very creative rewards for those who donate.  Part of the reason I haven't updated lately is because of how busy I've been with my schooling.  Also, this blog will be undergoing some changes; visual updates, and more diverse content. It isn't going away. It's going to be better. Stick around. You'll like what you see.  Below is the link to my Go Fund Me.  If you'd be kind and donate, pass the link on as well. https://www.gofundme.com/riley-joyce-university-funding

I Survived the American Artic, and All I Got Was This Lousy Frostbite             Living in a building from 1910 has its advantages. You get to experience what life was like about 108 years ago. That is also one of the disadvantages of living in such a house. It’s poorly insulated, lacks central heat, and seems to be a sponge for humidity. With ice on the windowpanes (indoors) and on the front living room wall (also indoors), I realized I may soon part ways with the swinging bachelor pad. For in truth, no swinging has taken place here. Jane Austen would be bored, and Austen Powers would be disappointed.             You may ask yourself, “Just how cold was it?”             Well, over this past week, we experienced in the Northeastern U.S., what I call Polar Vortex II: Ice Cold Boogaloo . This is a reference ...

Jane Meets World               It was on this day, in 1775, that the Reverend George Austen, and his wife Cassandra welcomed their second daughter into this world. She was nicknamed “Jenny” at first, but was baptized a day later as Jane.             Social satirist, novelist, romantic, feminist icon whatever you call her, Jane Austen means so many things to so many people. There’s no one word that describes her, or her writing. From a small cradle in Hampshire came a literary giant. To paraphrase Northanger Abbey , “No one that saw Jane Austen as a child would know she’d grow up to become a heroine.” Indeed, no one in her family would know that, and yet she still is an inspiring figure. Her words flow like the rivers of the Avon and Thames; timeless, and ceaseless. Despite 2017 being the 200 th anniversary of her passing, it feels as if she never left ...

What’s in Your Stocking?             There were certain things I knew would be in my stocking every Christmas. So much so that I looked forward to them.             I always knew there would be a Life Savers (Polos to my U.K. friends) Storybook. These aren’t books, but instead, a box of Life Savers that fold out like a book. Both sides of the book have a variety of flavored Life Savers. The famous five flavors would always be the first to go. The second would be the tropical fruit. Finally, the butter rum (butter scotch) would be devoured. There was also the Wint-o-Green, which, according to popular myth sparks when you bite it in the dark. I tried this once, and discovered that it actually does work! But you have to bite into a piece before the gets too dissolved in your mouth. I’m not sure how it works. Maybe some sort of static discharge of the ionization of mi...

To Raise the Temeraire             I remember the first time I saw The Fighting Temeraire by J.M.W. Turner. It was on the cover of an anthology of literature book. It was a collegiate tome that my father had acquired, when he took business classes at a local community college (In America, this is a two-year university level program). He wasn’t much of a reader, but he held onto that book. One night, when I was about seven or eight, he read Hemingway’s The Undefeated to me from that book. It was an odd choice, as my mother loved Hemingway, and my father knew practically nothing about him. However, that book was to become influential in other ways.             It was the first place I’d read James Joyce, as it reprinted The Dead , the final story from Dubliners. It was also where I read H.G. Wells’ Country of the Blind , and were I was first exposed to the name Osc...

…A Time to be Born…A Time to Cook             It was on this day, one year ago, that my mother’s funeral happened. I read a eulogy that I’d written, and was the only one to do so.             I won’t recount that event here, as I’ve written about it before. Instead, I’m thinking about the strange parallels between that event, and today. For example, it rained the night before my mother’s funeral. It rained heavily last night. The morning started out cold, and then the day heated up. It did so again today. As I waited for some sign to emerge, I found it toward the end of my work day.             As I waited for public transport, I heard the growl of a motorcycle down the street. The stereo onboard that hog blasted one of Prince’s songs, Kiss . Mom would have liked that. If it had been Diamonds and Pearls ...