Showing posts with label Himes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Himes. Show all posts
This is the land of knee-tremblers and wee bastards
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Panama Paul sang, “Some black snake is sucking my rider's tongue...”
there
are more liquor stores, more churches, more whorehouses, more lying, more
laughter, more screwing, fighting and footracing, more numbers players, more
freeloaders, more sports, more bars, more jukeboxes, more jazz, more crime,
more chitterlings eaten, more singing and dancing, more knife-toting and
loud-mouthing, more praying and shouting, more credit-buying, more ducking and
dodging the collectors, more worrying and complaining, and with all of that
more fun to be had than in any other city in the world.
“I hear Mamie has cancer in her rectum,” some woman whispered.
“That
wouldn't surprise me, dear,” her companion whispered back.
“She's
been named correspondent in you-know-whose divorce.”
“I
know, it took place right here on this very sofa.”
“I
heard he was a homo.”
“Little
difference that makes to Mamie, as long as he is rich and white and has a
thing.”
“Don't
be too sure about the thing, dear.” Her companion laughed cattily.
Ungawa! #4 repost
pdf scan (40 pages/49MB)
"Wild in the Streets was a wild picture, and a great AIP concoction. This was one teenage flick made by adults that really hit home. Based on a story by Robert Thom, it had counter culture ambience, and a protest message to boot. But more importantly it was tinged with world weary cynicism and a perverse sense of irony. Things that were pretty alien to the average teen."
chorus girls exhibiting the hot excitement that money could buy
Underworld characters closed in on Jackson from all sides. But the
whores got there first, pressing their wares so hard against Jackson he
couldn’t tell whether they were soliciting or trying to dispose of surplus
merchandise. The pickpockets were trying to break through. The muggers waited
at the door. Everyone else watched him, curious and attentive.
“That’s
my money,” a big whiskey-headed ex-pug shouted, pushing through the crowd
toward Jackson. “That mother— has done picked my pocket.”
Someone
laughed.
“Don’t
let that joker scare you, honey,” one of the whores encouraged.
Another
one said, “That raggedy stud ain’t had two white quarters since Jesus was a
child.”
A.K.A
“I like a joint where you can smell the girls’ sweat”
Noise, heat and orgiastic odors hit them as they entered through the
curtained doorway. The room was so small and packed that the celebrants rubbed
buttocks with others at adjoining tables. Faces bubbled in the dim light like
a huge pot of cannibal stew, showing mostly eyes and teeth. Smoke-blackened
nudes frolicked in the murals about the fringes of the ceiling. Beneath were
pencil sketches of numerous Harlem celebrities, interspersed with autographed
photos of jazz greats. A ventilator fan was laboring in the back wall without
any noticeable effect.
“You
want stink, you got it,” Grave Digger said.
Behind
a dance floor scarcely big enough to hold two pairs of feet, a shining black
man wearing a white silk shirt kept banging the same ten keys on a midget
piano; while a lank black woman without joints wearing a backless fire-red
evening gown did a snake dance about the tables, shouting “Money-money-money-honey,” and holding up her skirt. She was bare
beneath. Whenever someone held out a bill, she changed the lyric to, “Ohhhweee,
daddy, money makes me feel so funny,” and gave a graphic demonstration by
accepting it.
A.K.A
A.K.A
I really love it when men go down on me
My first exposure to the music of Martin Denny came at the age of 15 when one of my father's biker friends literally forced me to put on headphones and listen to Exotica from start to finish.The image of this mean motherfucker holding an easy listening LP, insistently reiterating that it was "the best fucking music on the planet" is one that won't soon be forgotten.Nor will the sounds I heard that day.Haunting sounds,mesmerising rhythms and texture unlike anything I'd ever heard.
Bonus Books featured this issue,with thanks to the original sharers:
10 Himes titles new link 15/05/14
Open almost any book by him and the steely spark of his prose rips through the air like a pure untamed thing! A far cry from the dead dog pap you get nowadays.Sure, all his books are partially hit and miss, after all , the guy wrote quickly and it's clear that some things fascinated and perked him up more than others, yet when he hit that high note - he really wailed! No other writer could capture the sizzle, sweat and menace of a larger-than-life Harlem than he could. In Himes' books you could smell the food, taste the liquor and feel your eyeballs bend with indecent enjoyment. Himes' Harlem was a place full of 'noise, heat and orgiastic odours', a place where white folks feared to tread
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