The dregs of society pool together like the dirty puddles they tromp. Dublin is their city. Dubh Linn. Black Pool. The name evokes images of heroin roiling on foil. At night, the Liffey too runs black. Along the quays, crack cocaine is plied and occasionally someone is stabbed and thrown into the black vein of the river, red like some singular blood cell making its journey to the heart of the Irish Sea: Joyce's snot-green sea, or, at night, Homer's wine-dark sea. The Spire keeps eternal vigilance, a needle into the arm of O'Connell Street, a thing perhaps intended to give a sense of the colossal, which stands stubbornly and disproportionately proud over the city of Dubh Linn. Dubh Linn is a place, but more-so, it is a process; the process of degradation. A man may enter the Black Pool entirely clean, and leave like a seagull weighted with petroleum. It's not a place for moral reservations. It necessarily rejects morality for its continued existence.
trite. too much forced imagery.
>>25515182I'm of a new school of authors who say that anything worth saying, is worth exploring to its utmost degree. What you call forced is actually just the uncovering of a landscape of imagery, metaphor, and simile naturally inhabiting this landscape and lending itself to being conceivable as pure imagery. We, the new authors, if which I may be the first, conceive of literature as an imitation of life. Just as Charles Dickens brought personality closer to our conception of the novel, I bring the imagery (and metaphor) that is in fact the very basis of our thinking. Endless associations and within a single kernel which the associations make more visible by their almost flirtatious relationship with it. Three blind men can't agree on what the elephant is. My associations all agree.
Dubh Linn is folk etymology. In Irish adjectives follow and are modified by nouns. "Black pool" in Irish is linn dhubh, not dubh linn.
>>25515197Dubh Linn is old Irish. It's hilarious that you've been so pedantic and wrong at the same time.
>>25515203The rule was not different in Old Irish. In any case, the settlement is not called Dubh Linn in Irish, but Baile Átha Cliath. The English name Dublin comes from the Old Norse Dyflin. There's no substantiated historical link to "Dubh Linn". It's just something that's repeated so often that it's assumed to be true, i.e. a folk etymology.
>>25515211None of that changes the fact that Dubh Linn has it's own etymology and can thus be used in this context as the term relates to the imagery landscape of my prose.
>>25515220Sure. But it's not an accurate etymology. Pet peeve.
>>25515222I mean, would you read Finnegan's Wake to learn grammar?
>>25515224No. But this one in particular is a bugbear of mine because I detest Dublin and Dubliners. Half of them are crackheads and the other half are the crackheads' lawyers. Quintessential mid-sized generic European city that insists in spite of all evidence to the contrary that it has a special and distinctive character. London writ small. I like the botanical gardens thoughbeit.
>>25515233You're not wrong. But the hate could go deeper. That is the little nugget I'm sneaking into the Trojan Horse. To know Dublin is to hate it. To know Dublin is to hate life.
>>25515233>>25515263I think the best way to understand Dublin, is that Dublin runs on fear.
>>25515171Is this noir?
>>25515171You've been posting iterations of this for years, bro. Surely you can write more than a dubious paragraph in that time.
>>25515171>but doctor, I am Pagliacci
>>25515224>Begin again, FinneganThe opening line still gives me chills
>>25515639>dubious paragraphNicely done
