Henry Miller on New York City and his bathroom

(NSFW language of course)
“The whole past seems like one long dream, punctured with nightmares.”

“From the buddhas, to the whores, to the maniacs..”
I could listen to Miller talk all day. The mold was long broken at the shop where they made erudite and eloquent old pervs like him. Writing used to be a scholarly manly art, but is now reserved for disposable milquetoast bores and effete vacuous chumps whose bathrooms hold no ephemera from a long vanished world. Men like Miller have forceful opinions and fifth and final wives.


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