Erotic illustrated stories
How much are they? But— said the first boy. When do you intend to inform him of her arrest? I felt my fingers bite into my jammas and the cords in my neck getting tight and my stomach clenching itself.Something bright! I thought I screamed. She didnt move. I grabbed her arm and dragged her off-balance in her chair. “Something bright!” Nor anyone elses. Anyway it doesnt matter. We ought to be independent. Lets get back to our man on theTimes, Andy Grey, struggling with syntax in his attempt to write today’s story from tomorrow’s mythical (because nonexistent) point of view. To put it another way, he was trying to manipulate the language so his story would look back as honestly as possible, from a day that wouldn’t exist, on the events of Earth’s last day. Yes, at least all the major countries.* * * * You have seven dollars in your wallet, Hank. One five-dollar bill and two singles. At this moment you are interrupting your main line of thought to wonder worriedly what happened to the third one-dollar bill, as you had eight dollars in the wallet earlier this morning. Rest easy. You were stopped by the newspaper delivery boy shortly after ten this morning while you were mowing the lawn and paid him eighty cents. The two dimes change are in your right-hand pants pocket. The French poet and painter Henri Michaux is one of the very few writers who has succeeded in the improbable effort to translate some of this kind of experience back into words. His book Miserable Miracle(City Lights, 1963, translated by Louise Varése), a record of mescaline and marijuana experiences in words and drawings, should be a shelf-companion (less instructive, more immediate; less analytical, more poetic) to every copy of Huxleys Doors of Perception. The sun is high now, high enough to show the sea is not a sea, but brown plain with the frost burned off it, as now it burns away from the hills, diffusing in air and blurring the edges of the suns disk, so that in a very few minutes there is no sun at all, but only a glare in the east. Then the valley below loses its shadows, and like an arrangement in a diorama, reveals the form and nature of the wreckage below: no tent-city this, no installation, but the true real ruin of Gamma and the eviscerated hulk of Delta. (Alpha was the muscle, Beta the brain; Gamma was a bird, but Delta, Delta was the way home.) Jay fell to his hands and knees and roared. Monica threw another can, string beans this time, and he scampered away. He knew that she would soon begin to play zoo, being a cat or some kind of rhino and that the argument would end up in jungley love. They had played zoo five times in six days and he was bored with it, but there was nothing better to do. The stone chilled his knee caps. He could not go to the Movie;he was the devil he knew. He took a small, civilized sip of his drink and, stretching out his arm, delicately let the glass fall into the abyss beneath him.Always the one for the dramatic gesture, he thought, carefully not saying it aloud lest it turn into a sob, and, looking up again, shook his futile fist viciously, not knowing if he did so at the windows, or at the sky.* * * * I had him first, Judy would always mock as she raced through Small Claims Court. Leaving? You mean leaving the city? "Oh, the voluntary tithe on Camiroi takes care of everything, government, religion, education, public works. We dont believe in taxes, of course, and we never maintain a high overhead in anything.".
