FAKING HENRY MILLER

Debunking Opus Pistorum
G. Legman
Tropic of Cancer 1934

1983

NOTE: Health problems (dizziness/vertigo spells) have prevented typing this clean. Perhaps this original ms . form will be of interest in showing how revision and correction is done. G.L.

Janice de Rosa - St. Malo

some jazz
Einar Moos
Janice de Rosa, Cancal

On February 9, 2014, we met on the lightly crowded SNCF Monparnasse station platform. It was a sunny Sunday morning. The diva Janice de Rosa appeared with her electronic pipe in her hand like a fetish, draped in jeans, a fuzzy jacket, New York made polar bear boots, her racy handbag, pulling a small suitcase, her blond head covered by a brown tea cup shaped wooly hat that reminded me of Milena Jesenska - a homunculus of some jazz.

No somos

No somos dueños

del aire

ni del viento

 

No somos dueños

del agua

de los esteros

de los rios

ni del Océano Pacífico

 

No somes dueños

del pasto

las plantas

los arboles

ni de la tierra

nuestra Pachamama

 

Pero si somos dueños

del tiempo

 

Olmué 2012

ÉXTASIS - L’EXTASE

Carlos Henderson

L’EXTASE

il dit ne te plains pas du monde où tu tombes debout

ne te plains pas, toro mata il y a eu

des carnavals sur les hauteurs avec les diables et leurs flammes et leurs danses, et leurs costumes de mille couleurs

les voix du cosmos au bord de la mer quand tu riais herbe haute

aie confiance en toi, en toi, en toi et les autres aussi dans la joie

soudaine

elle peut t’offrir

l’infini

l’espoir

ÉXTASIS

él dice  no te quejes del mundo donde caíste de pie

Goddesses, Doormats and Love Artists

Karen Margolis

“Women are either goddesses or doormats.” This neat maxim was attributed to Pablo Picasso by his erstwhile lover, Françoise Gilot, in her kiss-and-tell memoir of life with the famous painter. That was back in the mid-20th century when the myth of the male genius was at its height and great artists were assumed to be equally skilled in the ars amandi. Unsurpassable whether wielding a paintbrush at the canvas or a penis on the chaise longue during afternoon sessions with female models in the intimacy of their studio.

ON CAPITAL PUNISHMENT

Eddie Woods

I was initially intending to write an extensive introduction for this. Beginning with my musings on the occurrence that made me aware of how terribly wrong, how utterly useless and immoral, I felt capital punishment to be. (It was 1953, I'd recently turned 13, and the papers were headline screaming the news that the US Government had executed Julius and Ethel Rosenberg for espionage, courtesy of the electric chair in New York's Sing Sing prison.

Andrés Monreal (1932-2012)

A vision in the mirror
Einar Moos
Andres Monreal

He left as he came into my life - a rumor.

Few will dispute the fact that he was a genius. To some he was known as the Casanova of Ibiza. He liked to think of himself as the Michaelangelo of the Baleares.

Ibiza had been his home since the early 1960s, when he began working in films. He cast convincingly as the Bedouin freedom fighter Ahmed in "The Lost Command" (1966), Mexican captain Herrera in "Villa Rides" (1968), or captain Ahab of Nantucket on the seven seas.

EDEN

a review of Alain Claret's latest novel
Einar Moos

 

Guns, Alain Claret's main character Eden realizes, had replaced books. Von Clausewitz claimed that “War is the continuation of politics by other means”; means dissected in EDEN, a cutting-edge thriller about todays globalised neoliberal economic practices.

The corrupt Mexican Senator Perez Estrada sends his daughter Juana to Paris, to trace money belonging to the Sinaloa cartel. On the day of the dead, the cartel declare their war of “economic expansion” in Paris, leaving a bloody mayhem and the political system in disarray.

Surviving the Love Flood

‘I have lived both in hermitages and whorehouses,’ Eddie Woods writes in one of his short stories; ‘I have yet to find one more spiritual than the other.’

In Amsterdam, though, Woods lives near the Amstel. The apartment, which he shares with ex-wife (and still closest friend) Jane Harvey, is authentic Old Amsterdam, too: one floor in a house that was no doubt once the respectable residence of a well-off city official, now converted into a strange collection of small rooms that connect with each other only by virtue of the fact that they are contiguous.

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