opening up

James Joyce to Nora Barnacle Joyce, December 9, 1909

You say [your letter] is worse than mine. How is it worse, my love? …
You say what you will do with your tongue (I don’t mean sucking me off) and
in that lovely word you write so big and underline, you little blackguard.
It is thrilling to hear that word (and one or two others you have not
written) on a girl’s lips. But I wish you spoke of yourself and not of me.
Write me a long long letter, full of that and other things, about yourself,
darling. You know now how to give me a cockstand. Tell me the smallest
things about yourself so long as they are obscene and secret and filthy. Let
every sentence be full of dirty, immodest words and sounds. They are all
lovely to hear and to see on paper even but the dirtiest are the most
beautiful …

I am happy now, because my little whore tells me she wants me to roger
her arseways and wants me to fuck her mouth and wants to unbutton me and
pull out my mickey and suck it off like a teat. More and dirtier than this
she wants to do, my little naked fucker, my naughty wriggling little
frigger, my sweet dirty little farter.

Goodnight, my little cuntie. I am going to lie down and pull at myself
till I come. Write more and dirtier, darling. Tickle your little cockey
while you write to make you say worse and worse. Write the dirty words big
and underline them and kiss them and hold them for a moment to your sweet
hot cunt, darling, and also pull up your dress a moment and hold them in
under your farting bum. Do more if you wish and send the letter then to me,
my darling brown-assed fuckbird.

© James Joyce