In 1978, Christopher Makos photographed Andy Warhol kissing Salvador Dalí. For Warhol, it must have been a heartfelt moment of homage, since he was the only artist who ever approached Dalí’s mastery of publicity.
The clerihew was invented in 1890 by Edmund Clerihew Bentley, who was a schoolboy of 16 at St. Paul’s in London when the divine numen of Orpheus struck him. His best one seems to me:
With the end in 1989 of the forty-five year Communist regime in Bulgaria, the lives of ordinary Bulgarians were up-ended by the change of the economic system, and many found themselves impoverished for the first time in their lives.
“Most heads are routine,” he says. “Set the attachment at one of eight lengths, then slide the clipper up the back stretch, cruising from base to crown. The trick to it is there’s no trick to it.
It is in no spirit of detraction that I string together a number of descriptive anecdotes of this great painter’s eccentricity of character and manner. They afford another illustration of the world-old truth, that the life of the highest and the best of us is woven of a mingled yarn of good and evil.
I was wrestling with despair, and I couldn’t imagine why anyone needed to download a movie to a cell phone in no time. Who watches a movie on a cell phone—and when?
An incident from the narrative EMPTY AMERICAN LETTERS which while taking place in Bulgaria pivots about a violent death of a woman in Upstate New York.
On the first aerial toll-house, the soul is questioned about the sins of the tongue
The first year I moved to Brooklyn, before I’d begun to obsess about money, I’d lain convalescent all winter on my new sofa (my first sofa) reading, filling spiral notebooks, scouring the texts like a medieval scribe to burn them into my brain.