seantay10r: “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” This is a short film based on one of my favourite passages from Ernest Hemingway’s memoir. Please forgive the poor pronunciation. I will more than forgive the beautiful pronunciation. Thank you for taking me back to the...
the hell with how it was in New York
He sat on a stool at the bar and ordered a marismeno and opened and read his letter while he ate garlic-flavored olives from the saucer the bartender had placed before him with his glass. One of the letters had two cuttings of reviews of his novel from monthly magazines and he read them with no feeling that they dealt with him or with anything that he had written. He put the cuttings back in the...
Maybe I could reach over and touch that Maria now, he said to himself. Maybe you are afraid to he said to himself. Maybe you would find out that it never happened and it was not true and it was something you made up like those dreams about the people of the cinema or how all your old girls come back and sleep in that robe at night on all the bare floors, in the straw of the haybarns, the stables,...
anoiselesspatientspider asked: Who are you guys?
Christmas in Paris
“Paris with the snow falling. Paris with the big charcoal braziers outside the cafes, glowing red. At the cafe tables, men huddled, their coat collars turned up, while they finger glasses of grog Americain and the newsboys shout the evening papers. The buses rumble like green juggernauts through the snow that sifts down in the dusk. White house wall rise through the dusky snow. Snow is...
“I had hoped for something more.” “Alt-rock?” “No. Something more.” “There isn’t anything more. Except Christmas music. It may be worse.” “I had hoped for a long time for Christmas music.” “Me too.” “Now I don’t know.” “It has to be one or the other.” “I don’t believe in...
It was awful while he was gone. She couldn’t sleep well from thinking about him...– Ernest Hemingway, from “Up in Michigan” (via turnsthepages)
Here is the piece. If you can’t say fornicate can you say copulate or if...– Letter to Esquire editor Arnold Gingrich (11 April 1935); published in Ernest Hemingway Selected Letters 1917-1961 (1981) edited by Carlos Baker
To Ernest Hemingway: —because finally after all these years I am deeply...– The inscription Mailer wrote and sent to Hemingway inside the The Deer Park. “The book came back to Mailer unopened, stamped “Address Unknown—Return to Sender,” in Spanish. (See Mailer’s Advertisements for Myself for a complete telling in hard-earned italics.)” - Via The Paris Review
To be hungry.
They had made love when they were half awake with the light bright outside but the room still shadowed and then had lain together and been happy and tired and then made love again. They were so hungry that they did not think they would live until breakfast and now they were in a cafe eating and watching the sea and the sails and it was a new day again. “What are you thinking?” the...
The parody is the last refuge of the frustrated writer. Parodies are what you...– As quoted by A.E. Hotchner in Papa Hemingway