Chamblin Bookmine, Part One of Seven

The following was written by the always interesting Tim Gilmore on his blog, Jax Psycho Geo.

Source: Chamblin Bookmine, Part One of Seven

But after what happened with Manson in His Own Words: The Shocking Confessions of “The Most Dangerous Man Alive,” I was too ashamed to go back.

Even years later, when I’d assumed enough time had passed, Ron would give me a deal on a stack of books for trade-in, standing behind the cash register, with his mussed white hair and thin steel-framed glasses, and he’d joke with Frank, “Uh oh, better look out, he’s doing it to us again.”

In the years in between, I missed the strange steep back staircase that ascended to the dark and cramped second floor, and I missed the incongruous juxtaposition of poetry and horror fiction up there in the dark. I remembered particular purchases, Rimbaud’s Illuminations and Baudelaire’s The Flowers of Evil on the poetry side, and the cheap 1970s Ballantine paperback of H.P. Lovecraft’s The Lurking Fear on the horror side.

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A Dispatch from our French Connection, Michael Norris

  

Photos taken by Michael Norris at the RimbaudMania exhibit in the Marais quarter of Paris, France: A sketch of Rimbaud by Picasso, a poster for the event, merchandise

 The following is from an email sent to me by Michael Norris:

I just finished working for the Census, and I am going to France for three weeks thanks to free airline miles that I have accumulated. When I return I will kick out the jams on translating Tamper.

 It’s been a strange year so far – I worked on tax preparation and the Census, and both jobs were 7 days a week. I made some money, but now I need a break. I have an interview with a language school in Paris that does teaching over the internet. If I can hook up with them, I could stay in Chicago and teach all over. That would be a good deal, depending on the pay. 

BTW – I’m reading Ulysses. I struggled with it when I was in college, but now it’s not bad. I think I lacked life experience when I first encountered it. 

Yesterday I went to an exhibition in the Marais called Rimbaudmania”. It had everything: the poet’s letters, copies of books, films made about Rimbaud, and spoken word recordings. It covered the sublime – various existing photos of the young Rimbaud and a sketch by Picasso – to the ridiculous – would you believe thong underwear that say, “I Love Rimbaud” on the crotch! Rimbaud continues as icon for both high and low culture.