At the Smithsonian, for some reason, the Joseph Carey Merrick display, which is a huge, fuzzy, coconut globe at the end of a pole, is draped in a cloak, and a HUGE yachting cap.--NONE of which is... "Original Elephant Man Wear."
The film Poison (1991) by Todd Haynes has been a personal favorite for over a decade. Based loosely on writings by Jean Genet, the French criminal championed by the Parisian literati until his release (from a barbarously long sentence handed to him for being an incorrigible thief) saw him catapulted into the world of belles lettres (an extraordinarily gifted outsider, a reprobate that Jean-Paul Sartre referred to as being "rotten with genius"); the film is considered a landmark in "queer cinema." It is, indeed, a remarkable, if somewhat puzzling at times, piece of art.
(There is a place in New York City,
It is a bright summer day when a little boy
I recently went into the hospital for a heart catheter test. I ended up having a stent placed in the most serious valve of my heart; which was, by the way, 80 PERCENT BLOCKED. I suppose if it is a hundred, that's it. I did it to myself, of course: that all-fat, no-carbohydrate diet I was doing for months and months. I figure I nearly committed ketogenic suicide