“I got your hot letter tonight”
20 December 1909: 44 Fontenoy Street, Dublin
My sweet naughty girl
I got your hot letter tonight and have been trying to picture you frigging your cunt in the closet. How do you do it? Do you stand against the wall with your hand tickling up under your clothes or do you squat down on the hole with your skirts up and your hand hard at work in through the slit of your drawers? Does it give you the horn now to shit? I wonder how you can do it. Do you come in the act of shitting or do you frig yourself off first and then shit? It must be a fearfully lecherous thing to see a girl with her clothes up frigging furiously at her cunt, to see her pretty white drawers pulled open behind and her bum sticking out and a fat brown thing stuck half-way out of her hole. You say you will shit your drawers, dear, and let me fuck you then. I would like to hear you shit them, dear, first and then fuck you. Some night when we are somewhere in the dark and talking dirty and you feel your shite ready to fall put your arms around my neck in shame and shit it down softly. The sound will madden me and when I pull up your dress
No use continuing! You can guess why!
The cinematograph opened today. I leave for Trieste on Sunday 2 January. I hope you have done what I said about the kitchen, linoleum and armchair and curtains. By the way don’t be sewing those drawers befor anybody. Is your dress made. I hope so- with a long coat, belted and cuffed with leather etc. How I am to manage Eileen’s [note: his sister] fare I don’t know. For God’s sake arrange that you and I can have comfortable bed. I have no great wish to do anything to you, dear. All I want is your company. You may rest easy about my going with ________ [note: a word is omitted by Joyce in the original, presumably “whores” or similar. His infidelities with prostitutes had upset Nora] You understand. That won’t happen, dear.
O, I am hungry now. The day I arrive get Eva to make one of the threepenny puddings and make some kind of vanilla sauce without wine. I would like roast beef, rice-soup, capuzzi garbi, mashed potatoes, pudding and black coffee. No, no I would like stracotto di maccheroni, a mixed salad, stewed prunes, torroni, tea and presnitz. Or no I would stewed eels or polenta with…
Excuse me, dear, I am hungry tonight.
Nora darling, I hope we will pass a happy year together. Am writing Stannie [note: his brother, Stanislaus] tomorrow about cinematograph.
I am so glad I am now in sight of Miramar. The only thing I hope is that I haven’t brought on that cursed thing again by what I did. Pray for me, dearest.
Addio, addio, addio, addio!
JIM