From Book 2: What Does Rrose Selavy Look Like?

            After the ruckus had spilled into the street, I went backstage to say something to Artaud—I didn’t know what, something encouraging, comforting. But he was already talking to André Breton, and I heard the other side of the Youki story. Artaud listened sympathetically as Breton, who knew that Artaud and Desnos were still goodContinue reading “From Book 2: What Does Rrose Selavy Look Like?”

From Book 2: Josette and Youki

            Artaud’s own hair, neatly slicked back earlier, had slid loose because of the heat and now hung around his face. It looked strange, for his hair still had a few centimeters to grow until it attained the length it had been a year ago; it fell only to his cheekbones, a chestnut bowl ofContinue reading “From Book 2: Josette and Youki”

From Book 2: Conflicts

            Artaud’s own hair, neatly slicked back earlier, had slid loose because of the heat and now hung around his face. It looked strange, for his hair still had a few centimeters to grow until it attained the length it had been a year ago; it fell only to his cheekbones, a chestnut bowl ofContinue reading “From Book 2: Conflicts”

From Book 2: Car Thief

            “Don’t mind him. He’s had too much to drink,” I interjected, rising from my place on the floor to go to the fireplace. “Again.” I threw on anther log and surreptitiously dragged a finger across my throat at Desnos. He merely beamed at the murderous glare I gave him. As I turned back toContinue reading “From Book 2: Car Thief”

From Book 2: We are in a Novel

            “Do you want to know the truth?” Louis said, suddenly despondent. “I don’t sense the presence of any great mystery. The only reason I’ve blundered into being a painter is that I don’t know what else to do with myself. I’m not religious. I’m not interested in getting married or starting a family. GoodContinue reading “From Book 2: We are in a Novel”

From Book 2: Youki

Huge snowflakes fell, crisp and glittering, etching the trees and the railings and the eaves in silver for a brief and fragile dusting. It was very cold, unusually so, and the slush on the sidewalks had turned to ice. “This is rare for Paris,” Louis remarked. “The first time I saw snow I was threeContinue reading “From Book 2: Youki”