![]() ![]() The rest is French dross: "Late one afternoon, as if electrified, he sprang out of bed.and began to write.The words rose up inside him like tombstones and danced without feet he piled them up like an acropolis of flesh, rained on them with vengeful hate until they dangled like corpses slung from a lamppost. There are perhaps only two or three scenes in Crazy Cock that spring to their feet as storytelling. ![]() Here is Miller at his moat swollen and surreal, with barely a hint of his comic genius and with the worst faults of Cancer now strung end to end. He kept revising Crazy Cock but later in Paris set it aside to write Tropic of Cancer-a wise choice, since the first three paragraphs of Cancer are worth Crazy Cock entire. In the late 20's Miller was living in Greenwich Village, writing Crazy Cock and being housed and fed by his wife June. Early Henry Miller fighting the hydra of English. ![]()
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