Henry Miller Letters To Anais Nin
Henry Miller Letters To Anais Nin – On April 8, 2010, the SCRC hosted a dramatic reading of selected letters from our collections. The event was planned and hosted by Abigail Whitley, and we thank everyone who was able to attend. For those who can’t attend and want to relive what they heard that evening, we’ll be posting transcripts and introductions to the letters over the next few weeks.
In this letter, Henry Valentine Miller writes a long account of his two days in Paris to his friend Annis Nin. His most famous works are
Henry Miller Letters To Anais Nin
He wrote travelogues and literary criticism and analysis. Here you get to follow him in the drunken confusion of arriving in Paris.
Sold By Private Treatytwo Page Carbon Typed Letter To Henry Miller, Unsigned But With Note In Miller’s Hand
He has had about six hours of sleep in the last two days. I start somewhere yesterday or days ago, sitting in the anteroom of a doctor’s office at eight o’clock in the morning. Expect a long examination – for my work card – instead I was asked to take off my shirt and get vaccinated; Thirty francs, and voila, here I am. At ten o’clock M. King will be waiting at the Hotel Central with this Ford. We go to Surreys for some beds, etc. It is a great day, and although the house is locked on Suresnes, we are not denied. First, M. He took me to a villa that the King might win, in a street called the Rue de l’Hippodrome, I believe. We start at Marley Le Roy, where there is a cabin with two divans in the woods. M. to take a short cut. The king himself wanders in the forest, on a soft green landscape. The car bucks like a Bronco and we scream and sing when we tap the brush. Then we come to a gate at the edge of the forest; The door is locked, but M. can do everything. King has a big key for the door. The little hut is standing – it has no windows, but the roof is covered with tar. We piled the beds and mattresses and folding table and three chairs on the car and started back. M King lends us only divan. Even if the mattresses have large holes due to sensitivity, it will reward more. The lamb is shorn from sheep that graze on the plains of Armenia, where M. King came from.
After paying everything, we arrived at the apartment in the afternoon and found that the bathroom was not connected. The place is not cleaned. A few doors should be placed on their hinges. No chandeliers. O.K. We return to rue du Faubourg in M.King’s car. Respect the property and look for electrical wiring equipment, tools, plates, glasses etc. Good. We didn’t stop anywhere for drinks. M. Fred and I fell asleep—sound asleep—while King mounted the stepladder and tested the connections. It’s dark now. As I hold the candle to Fred’s face, I see something crawling on his face to shake him. I wake him up and he complains about being bitten, shows me the welts on his hand and cheek. M. We call him King. This is important. Examine the mattresses and divans – a few living people crawl over the material. Then we get busy and check. Hold the candle to the walls. Wonderful! The walls are alive! Big ones, eggshells, nests, nits, cocoons, cobwebs, dead, comatose, alive… we take a match and burn them alive. But it’s hard work – they’re coming fast. M. King takes me – “You killed me for an afternoon,” he says. We go down in the cellar and turn on the water. Tell the concierge who the new concierge is and as a child. She says it’s horrible. We agree. Then we put all our luggage into one room and run away. M. King worried about the Armenian woolen mattress. They lived in the family for a long time: the sheep grazed near the house at the foot of Ararat.
At Levallois-Perret we stopped for Casse-Cruet. Here is where Moravagin went after exploring the mouth of the Orinoco, or was before. I always wanted to see the people of Lavallois-Perret. nice. We order cold pork and lots of potato salad. We eat it and wash it down with the rarest vin blanks I’ve ever tasted. M.King also knows about wine. It confirms my judgment. We order Camembert and Gorgonzola and a little Brie for Fred. Fred is upset about the bugs. But wine. We drink several bottles, then we order coffee and Cointreau. Just a little snack before going to work. Holder crane.
I go home with Joe after work. He is going to spend the night with me. We arrive at Oasis and have another small snack, a plat du jour with a glass of beer. I’m too tired and sad to sleep. But while we were eating, we just passed by a young lady who came in and greeted me. I know her. “Oh, my dear Lord, you are so kind, it must be heaven that sent you to me. can i sit Can I order something fresh? ” I gave Joe a big horse wink and ordered epaule de veau avec pommes nouvelles for the girl. This is hot stuff – for four francs! Yes, she has a similar story to tell me. She can’t go back to her room until she pays some money. Just a few francs, say twenty or thirty. She says she’s Irish-Neil O’Connor, but she was born in Latvia and speaks like a Greek. If you ask her closely (I have many times) you will find she is Irish. Anyway, Joe is listening with a big smile. He never heard her line. She whispered in my ear while eating. I tell her no. So she ordered cake and a cup of tea. I don’t have enough money when I go to pay. Joe pays. Then we stand in the corner outside the rotunda and try to shake her off. She is begging Joe for twenty francs. She never sold herself, you understand. She knows now that I can’t give her anything so she focuses on Joe. But Joe says he is married. At once a man without coat or hat was enslaved with all his lips. He says that he had a fever for five days. He shakes my hand warmly. “You are a gentleman!” It’s the waiter from Bar Dominik – he always reminds me that I’m too polite to him. He is very sensitive at night. So he told me to go to Dom Bar and buy me something. I don’t want to go but I want to get rid of the girl. So here we go – but first I’ll say it’s only one drink. The bar won’t let me order coffee – I have to have something good. We ordered and then he started telling Joe what a nice guy I was – that I was better than any girl and so on. The girl spoke Russian to him. Looks like it’s about five o’clock – they’ll be closing soon. Just then, a rude man with a small bag thrust his head between me and the girl chewing on my ear on the hotel bill. He looks surprised, then looks at the girl. He insults her. I smile a little, but stand there and grow more insulted. My blood is running cold. I wonder how long it will last. Abruptly he was gone, and suddenly turned again by the door and flung a few more words at her. This will marry me. I went up and slammed him against the door and gave him a terrible shove. I know my face is white, my lips are crying. I yell at him. I tell him to shut up. And the funny thing is silence. He opens his mouth but can’t find any words. He’s dumb, and I’m dumber than him. I got really strong because he refused to come and hit me, so I fled the scene. I don’t know where to hide my anger. And when I turn the corner, the Russian is behind me. Behind him is Gakkon, who wants the money. The Russian brutally turns him around and tells him that he will be back in five minutes. Garcon is going to call genders. I don’t know what to say. I took the Russian by the hand and lifted his head up. “What happened, are you sick?” “No,” he said, and apologized politely. “I haven’t got enough money. Lend me fifteen francs and call me at the bar tomorrow. Joe will pay again, but