In response to the message on the Tiresias, Marcel Jouhandeau, illustrated by Elie Grekoff two beautiful pictures sent to me after the previous message:
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Where Can I Buy 779 Film?
Want to Escape
In the middle of winter when the light fails us,
Where wan sun can warm us,
skimping his kindness as an ordinary bank,
We want to recover from both the summer.
Dreaming cruises, sailing over the blue sea,
Find the peace of these old ships
Who sought to win the famous "Blue Ribbon"
To hang the mat, this strange calico.
Or on an impulse, jump on a freighter,
Without knowing where he goes in search of adventure,
Character of romance, feel a hero,
Feeling his face, spray, bite.
It yearns to leave, find themselves on board,
Be like a child in front of a rainbow sky.
But, like everyone else, it remains on the port
Peering dark clouds over us, piling up. Snow or rain
is to choose from! And for solace,
The curtains are drawn, you must lie, malicious,
For the best trips are those imagined
Although warm under the duvet, just close your eyes.
In the middle of winter when the light fails us,
Where wan sun can warm us,
skimping his kindness as an ordinary bank,
We want to recover from both the summer.
Dreaming cruises, sailing over the blue sea,
Find the peace of these old ships
Who sought to win the famous "Blue Ribbon"
To hang the mat, this strange calico.
Or on an impulse, jump on a freighter,
Without knowing where he goes in search of adventure,
Character of romance, feel a hero,
Feeling his face, spray, bite.
It yearns to leave, find themselves on board,
Be like a child in front of a rainbow sky.
But, like everyone else, it remains on the port
Peering dark clouds over us, piling up. Snow or rain
is to choose from! And for solace,
The curtains are drawn, you must lie, malicious,
For the best trips are those imagined
Although warm under the duvet, just close your eyes.
February 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Texas Dune Buggy Street Legal
"The face looking at us," illustrated by Jean Boullet
Among the first books illustrated by Jean Boullet, is this leaflet published in 1947 in favor of the work of the breadcrumbs, charitable assistance to the homeless and excluded.
The introductory text Eastern Catholic writer Daniel-Rops. All started the meeting with a poor wretch who looks: "There was this man, in this respect, nothing more than a question" "Why?". This is the question of inequality, social injustice, selfishness. Daniel-Rops, "drawings by Jean Boullet in their poignant realism [...] I was immediately reminded him."
This text is illustrated with 20 drawings by Jean Boullet.
Despite the seriousness of the subject, drawing by Jean Boullet known tribute to the beauty of boys. I selected few.
I like this image of fatherhood:
His talent as a designer is known to all situations. As proof, the faces worn by life.
There is great in these men who seem out of the shadows:
Description of structure
Daniel-Rops
The face that we look, with 20 drawings by Jean Boullet
Sl, La Mie de Pain, 1947, in-8 (241 x 160 mm), [12] pp. - 20 boards, tucked under a blanket.
Circulation 1100 copies:
- 20 copies numbered I to XX, with an original drawing
- 1080 copies, numbered 21 to 1 1000, on Rives paper stationeries.
There is no copy at public libraries, even in the BNF!
Henri Petiot, "said Daniel-Rops is a French writer and historian, born in Epinal, January 19, 1901 and died in Aix-les-Bains July 27, 1965. He specializes in religious history (see instructions Wikipedia )
"La Mie de Pain" is an association of assistance to persons in danger welcome in emergency food and shelter, inclusive, unconditional and anonymously all adults in a situation of vulnerability, marginalization and exclusion ... It was founded in 1891 by Paulin Enfert (see website: La Mie de Pain ).
The introductory text Eastern Catholic writer Daniel-Rops. All started the meeting with a poor wretch who looks: "There was this man, in this respect, nothing more than a question" "Why?". This is the question of inequality, social injustice, selfishness. Daniel-Rops, "drawings by Jean Boullet in their poignant realism [...] I was immediately reminded him."
This text is illustrated with 20 drawings by Jean Boullet.
Despite the seriousness of the subject, drawing by Jean Boullet known tribute to the beauty of boys. I selected few.
I like this image of fatherhood: 
His talent as a designer is known to all situations. As proof, the faces worn by life.
There is great in these men who seem out of the shadows:
Description of structure
Daniel-Rops
The face that we look, with 20 drawings by Jean Boullet
Sl, La Mie de Pain, 1947, in-8 (241 x 160 mm), [12] pp. - 20 boards, tucked under a blanket.
Circulation 1100 copies:
- 20 copies numbered I to XX, with an original drawing
- 1080 copies, numbered 21 to 1 1000, on Rives paper stationeries.
There is no copy at public libraries, even in the BNF!
Henri Petiot, "said Daniel-Rops is a French writer and historian, born in Epinal, January 19, 1901 and died in Aix-les-Bains July 27, 1965. He specializes in religious history (see instructions Wikipedia )
"La Mie de Pain" is an association of assistance to persons in danger welcome in emergency food and shelter, inclusive, unconditional and anonymously all adults in a situation of vulnerability, marginalization and exclusion ... It was founded in 1891 by Paulin Enfert (see website: La Mie de Pain ).
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Buy Cheetos Wholesale
Acrostic Valentinian
From the bottom of my heart, my soul lair,
Where my love for you brought forth the flame, which shine
Magistrale thirty years
sun-drenched our two lives merged
I have a confession to make: you art all my life.
And always in the morning while still asleep, huddled
You, trusting in the crook of my arm,
So I feel your heart beating against me. It
pace my mind tends to make me bohemian.
My lips to your ears open on this poem
intoxicated by the idea to tell you I love you.
From the bottom of my heart, my soul lair,
Where my love for you brought forth the flame, which shine
Magistrale thirty years
sun-drenched our two lives merged
I have a confession to make: you art all my life.
And always in the morning while still asleep, huddled
You, trusting in the crook of my arm,
So I feel your heart beating against me. It
pace my mind tends to make me bohemian.
My lips to your ears open on this poem
intoxicated by the idea to tell you I love you.
February 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
How To Treat Loss Of Normal Cervical Lordosis
"Tiresias", Marcel Jouhandeau, 1954
I chose as emblematic image of my site that illustrates the Tiresias of Jouhandeau:
As I promised, I want you to discover today This book is a Text wonderful pleasure between men, as well as a marvel of editing by the beauty of the illustrations of Elijah Grekoff.
Jouhandeau Marcel, born in 1888, left an important novels in the tradition of the great moralists. Homosexuality, central in his life, is only slowly approached, first by allusions in his praise of recklessness (1931), and so more and more clear in of abjection, published anonymously in 1939, reissued in 1951 with its author name. Follow Chronicle of a Passion (1944), The funeral of Adonis (1948) or School boys (1953) and Pure Love (1955), which address homosexuality rather under the angle of passion, that of sexuality as such. With Tiresias, published anonymously in 1954 in an edition of 150 copies, it covers sex between men. That's probably why the text will remain anonymous and he will always be reluctant to acknowledge. One must imagine that in 1954, a published poet, speak openly of sodomy and shared pleasure was still around the unimaginable. Certainly, Jean Genet did in Our Lady of the Flowers and The miracle of the rose , but it was little known beyond a small circle around Cocteau and Sartre.
Tiresias is organized around the story of his affair with four men, Richard, Philip, and Pierre Le Nain, whom he met in a brothel of men. It was Richard who, for the first time, giving it a taste for sodomy:
"His hair drew on her thighs black gold roses, as seen sown on thighs Malatesta, as is the coat of panthers, and it when I pointed out to him he jumped on me, biting my shoulder. I vainly tried to defend myself, he had turned upside down and her face against my neck so impressed that it was better to see if I had looked face to face, when all of a blow, but how had he done, I felt mated by its sting. Then, as he held me, sure I do more to steal possession, his mouth appeared to me under my arms sensual, succulent, a grenade ajar. Sweetness sweetest and most cruel pain, I had never felt at once. I found it much the same to live or die and I told him, as the torture and pleasure exalted one another. I end up forgetting the torture for pleasure. "
discovers the sodomy, he then over sixty and long life of homosexual relationship. A bad experience at the age of 23 had yet disgusted "Alas! I was sick for over a year and a sort of horror of this act prevented me to consider my entire life as enjoyable. "
The book is illustrated with 15 engravings of Elijah Grekoff. I reproduce them in sequence, supplemented selections, son gleaned from the text.
"Tonight he would spread his seed, curiosity took him to see me in the eye to measure our joint, his power and length its scope, as my depths. Then as he moved away and leaned on my hip, I saw in profile, as I turned, his chest of a lion, her breasts heavy, so filled with enjoyment approaching, that 'they shared, a drop of milk spurted from a nipple. No, nothing could, amid the confusion of our forms, move me more than to surprise all these erosions at one time, the cataclysms only that change the course of moods in nature can give an idea. This surreptitiously broke and you're thoroughly upset, transmuted. Without doubt, so be it, should not cheat, do not treat lightly the pleasure, but as an initiation constant and constantly renewed, the most sacred mysteries. "
I particularly like the idea This last sentence.
"It takes me qu'agenouillé, past my legs around his neck. And his face remains exposed above me, downcast eyes, till happiness came over me and grabbed him. Then he opens his eyes wide open, eyes wide color periwinkle, whose affection for that moment is all the more poignant than his mouth cruelly crumples, retracts, much like the oyster still alive when is disturbed in its lair. Afterwards, I only have to look and talk about what this grin that he smiles, but as the animals seem to only recall sleeping in a dream of pleasure. "
"As soon as I'll be ready, he picks me, draws me to him and I start to shake, moaning with fear, begging that I household, it is not rough, too hard, as volatile as watching a vulture or sacrificial knife. Then he gives me sweet names monosyllables salination, which I understand less sense (he speaks a slang to him) that the voluntary kindness or irony, when he does peppers not suddenly of profanity, this time clear, or any threat that chills me with terror. At the same time her hand touched me in the right place, his caresses and soothes me excites me, it surrounds me gradually the size of his massive arms hanging on my hip and suddenly my belt and my crushes. His face disappears, I feel you down my back, looking deep as he visits his home. The passage of his finger, then his tongue, I blossom. Confidence is born. No sooner did I felt his heat installed in me, his face back from the abyss. As it neared each of my vertebrae, one after the other in passing and that's when it bites my neck and I feel his body stretched along the mine, his sensitive nipples over my shoulders, that the square tip of his phallus, beating my ass like me to express his feeling stiff, hesitates again on the threshold and finally slays me. While in the saddle after a long walk to a trot, a kidney shot, I turned around and my legs were spent as a collar around its neck, I can contemplate between his shoulders which I conceal any part, a response Titan's moody swings from the most cruel insult to the coaxing, an expression of pain to bliss, before melting of happiness. His mouth attached to mine, our eyes close at the same time as its sap burning floods me and mine spread between our two hearts debacle greeted with groans endless, as it only happens to beasts that breed in forests. "
"The moment the best is perhaps that of expectation on his knees, without seeing or knowing what is happening behind. Nothing is more exciting than the approach of the penis, before touching. Softness of the reluctance of the member on his lips that shrink and gradually relax, like going out to meet what will expand the
, by ripping. Two arms already surround you. You will not fly. The first penetration is pain, however, that the agitation of the iron allows it to take its place in the sheath that folder one by one its meshes, wife rather the form of what he does fills his, until the vulva gaping delight, is smooth and s'oint itself. Then the slide was initially painful it soon turns into the most voluptuous and caressing as domestic.
Peter alone was able to follow the rhythmic swaying of ecstasy even more complete: it is when, having her belly touched my back, our fleeces mixed, he took me in his place, where he remained motionless for a long time, if understood that the glans swells in and by his own beat, by its mere vibration reaches orgasm. Be warned by his cry, hardly have I felt suddenly flooded with his hot liquor, he took advantage, moistened, to advance even further retrenchment in cache until either I cry at the same time as a result of enjoyment, while I tighten, as a slide on his phallus that I hold my crazy prisoner, and a mutual recognition, we become entwined on the couch and go to sleep ".
Grekoff Elie is a French illustrator of Russian origin, born October 11, 1914, in Saratov, in the province of the Don and arrived in France in 1928. He died in Saumur July 16, 1985. He was trained by Fernand Leger. A site very well done it is all about: Elie Grekoff .
Description of structure and copy
Tiresias
Slnn, 1954, in-8 (224 x 142 mm), 92 - [4] pp., 15 engravings wood in the text, cover and as illustrated with a woodcut.
The colophon is dated 23 March 1954. According to the BNF, it was printed in Paris by Mr. Sautier.
Circulation: 150 copies on vellum pure wire Marais:
- 15 copies numbered 1 to 15 containing an original design, a suite of 15 blood timber illustrating the book plus a suite of 5 unused wood
- 15 numbered 16 to 30 containing a suite of 15 blood timber illustrating the book more a series of five wooden unused
- 120 copies numbered 31-150
This copy is a copy artist, marked "A". It contains more blood on the 15 woodcuts (this result is that the illustrations are from this post). It also contains five engravings that were not included in the definitive work.
in public collections, there are only 2 copies, both at the BNF:
HELL-1498, with autograph signed the author at the National Library, dated November 1955.
RES 8-Z-78 PAB Jouhandeau donated by Pierre-Andre Benoit.
Fernandez has a copy, as he relates in The abduction of Ganymede (p. 140): "I have a [one of 150 copies] gave me Marie Laurencin, November 11 1955, saying: "Maybe this will interest you there more than me. "The dedication of Marie Laurencin Jouhandeau presents the book as" a great pastiche "of Imitation of Christ ."
With The secret trip and Notebooks of Don Juan , Tiresias was reissued by Arlea in 1988 under the title Writings secrets.
The Secret Writings were then published in 1993 in the collection bag "Pocket".
For those who want to go Jouhandeau off on, I recommend the beautiful pages of Didier Eribon in A moral minority , Paris, 2001.
As I promised, I want you to discover today This book is a Text wonderful pleasure between men, as well as a marvel of editing by the beauty of the illustrations of Elijah Grekoff.
Jouhandeau Marcel, born in 1888, left an important novels in the tradition of the great moralists. Homosexuality, central in his life, is only slowly approached, first by allusions in his praise of recklessness (1931), and so more and more clear in of abjection, published anonymously in 1939, reissued in 1951 with its author name. Follow Chronicle of a Passion (1944), The funeral of Adonis (1948) or School boys (1953) and Pure Love (1955), which address homosexuality rather under the angle of passion, that of sexuality as such. With Tiresias, published anonymously in 1954 in an edition of 150 copies, it covers sex between men. That's probably why the text will remain anonymous and he will always be reluctant to acknowledge. One must imagine that in 1954, a published poet, speak openly of sodomy and shared pleasure was still around the unimaginable. Certainly, Jean Genet did in Our Lady of the Flowers and The miracle of the rose , but it was little known beyond a small circle around Cocteau and Sartre. Tiresias is organized around the story of his affair with four men, Richard, Philip, and Pierre Le Nain, whom he met in a brothel of men. It was Richard who, for the first time, giving it a taste for sodomy:
"His hair drew on her thighs black gold roses, as seen sown on thighs Malatesta, as is the coat of panthers, and it when I pointed out to him he jumped on me, biting my shoulder. I vainly tried to defend myself, he had turned upside down and her face against my neck so impressed that it was better to see if I had looked face to face, when all of a blow, but how had he done, I felt mated by its sting. Then, as he held me, sure I do more to steal possession, his mouth appeared to me under my arms sensual, succulent, a grenade ajar. Sweetness sweetest and most cruel pain, I had never felt at once. I found it much the same to live or die and I told him, as the torture and pleasure exalted one another. I end up forgetting the torture for pleasure. "
discovers the sodomy, he then over sixty and long life of homosexual relationship. A bad experience at the age of 23 had yet disgusted "Alas! I was sick for over a year and a sort of horror of this act prevented me to consider my entire life as enjoyable. "
The book is illustrated with 15 engravings of Elijah Grekoff. I reproduce them in sequence, supplemented selections, son gleaned from the text.
"Tonight he would spread his seed, curiosity took him to see me in the eye to measure our joint, his power and length its scope, as my depths. Then as he moved away and leaned on my hip, I saw in profile, as I turned, his chest of a lion, her breasts heavy, so filled with enjoyment approaching, that 'they shared, a drop of milk spurted from a nipple. No, nothing could, amid the confusion of our forms, move me more than to surprise all these erosions at one time, the cataclysms only that change the course of moods in nature can give an idea. This surreptitiously broke and you're thoroughly upset, transmuted. Without doubt, so be it, should not cheat, do not treat lightly the pleasure, but as an initiation constant and constantly renewed, the most sacred mysteries. "
I particularly like the idea This last sentence.
"It takes me qu'agenouillé, past my legs around his neck. And his face remains exposed above me, downcast eyes, till happiness came over me and grabbed him. Then he opens his eyes wide open, eyes wide color periwinkle, whose affection for that moment is all the more poignant than his mouth cruelly crumples, retracts, much like the oyster still alive when is disturbed in its lair. Afterwards, I only have to look and talk about what this grin that he smiles, but as the animals seem to only recall sleeping in a dream of pleasure. "
"As soon as I'll be ready, he picks me, draws me to him and I start to shake, moaning with fear, begging that I household, it is not rough, too hard, as volatile as watching a vulture or sacrificial knife. Then he gives me sweet names monosyllables salination, which I understand less sense (he speaks a slang to him) that the voluntary kindness or irony, when he does peppers not suddenly of profanity, this time clear, or any threat that chills me with terror. At the same time her hand touched me in the right place, his caresses and soothes me excites me, it surrounds me gradually the size of his massive arms hanging on my hip and suddenly my belt and my crushes. His face disappears, I feel you down my back, looking deep as he visits his home. The passage of his finger, then his tongue, I blossom. Confidence is born. No sooner did I felt his heat installed in me, his face back from the abyss. As it neared each of my vertebrae, one after the other in passing and that's when it bites my neck and I feel his body stretched along the mine, his sensitive nipples over my shoulders, that the square tip of his phallus, beating my ass like me to express his feeling stiff, hesitates again on the threshold and finally slays me. While in the saddle after a long walk to a trot, a kidney shot, I turned around and my legs were spent as a collar around its neck, I can contemplate between his shoulders which I conceal any part, a response Titan's moody swings from the most cruel insult to the coaxing, an expression of pain to bliss, before melting of happiness. His mouth attached to mine, our eyes close at the same time as its sap burning floods me and mine spread between our two hearts debacle greeted with groans endless, as it only happens to beasts that breed in forests. " 
"The moment the best is perhaps that of expectation on his knees, without seeing or knowing what is happening behind. Nothing is more exciting than the approach of the penis, before touching. Softness of the reluctance of the member on his lips that shrink and gradually relax, like going out to meet what will expand the
, by ripping. Two arms already surround you. You will not fly. The first penetration is pain, however, that the agitation of the iron allows it to take its place in the sheath that folder one by one its meshes, wife rather the form of what he does fills his, until the vulva gaping delight, is smooth and s'oint itself. Then the slide was initially painful it soon turns into the most voluptuous and caressing as domestic.
Peter alone was able to follow the rhythmic swaying of ecstasy even more complete: it is when, having her belly touched my back, our fleeces mixed, he took me in his place, where he remained motionless for a long time, if understood that the glans swells in and by his own beat, by its mere vibration reaches orgasm. Be warned by his cry, hardly have I felt suddenly flooded with his hot liquor, he took advantage, moistened, to advance even further retrenchment in cache until either I cry at the same time as a result of enjoyment, while I tighten, as a slide on his phallus that I hold my crazy prisoner, and a mutual recognition, we become entwined on the couch and go to sleep ".
Grekoff Elie is a French illustrator of Russian origin, born October 11, 1914, in Saratov, in the province of the Don and arrived in France in 1928. He died in Saumur July 16, 1985. He was trained by Fernand Leger. A site very well done it is all about: Elie Grekoff .
Description of structure and copy
Tiresias
Slnn, 1954, in-8 (224 x 142 mm), 92 - [4] pp., 15 engravings wood in the text, cover and as illustrated with a woodcut.
The colophon is dated 23 March 1954. According to the BNF, it was printed in Paris by Mr. Sautier. Circulation: 150 copies on vellum pure wire Marais:
- 15 copies numbered 1 to 15 containing an original design, a suite of 15 blood timber illustrating the book plus a suite of 5 unused wood
- 15 numbered 16 to 30 containing a suite of 15 blood timber illustrating the book more a series of five wooden unused
- 120 copies numbered 31-150
This copy is a copy artist, marked "A". It contains more blood on the 15 woodcuts (this result is that the illustrations are from this post). It also contains five engravings that were not included in the definitive work.
in public collections, there are only 2 copies, both at the BNF:
HELL-1498, with autograph signed the author at the National Library, dated November 1955.
RES 8-Z-78 PAB Jouhandeau donated by Pierre-Andre Benoit.
Fernandez has a copy, as he relates in The abduction of Ganymede (p. 140): "I have a [one of 150 copies] gave me Marie Laurencin, November 11 1955, saying: "Maybe this will interest you there more than me. "The dedication of Marie Laurencin Jouhandeau presents the book as" a great pastiche "of Imitation of Christ ."
With The secret trip and Notebooks of Don Juan , Tiresias was reissued by Arlea in 1988 under the title Writings secrets.
The Secret Writings were then published in 1993 in the collection bag "Pocket".
For those who want to go Jouhandeau off on, I recommend the beautiful pages of Didier Eribon in A moral minority , Paris, 2001.
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