Tag Archives: Quentin

My reading of Quentin S Crisp’s Aiaiglas

I like the poems which are dated and can be correlated with the prose of Aiaigasa which occasionally refers back to them. ‘On the path I kissed/You, but didn’t say/How I felt like an actor’ epitomises self-consciousness. ‘The Café de … Continue reading

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Book Launch

Dressed in my slimfits and red bootees I went off to the book reading, walking from Kennington, asking directions from an obliging girl, to Fitzalan St where it took place in the Royal Oak.  David Rix shook my hand and … Continue reading

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Review of Quentin S Crisp’s The Paris Notebooks

The cemetery whose name escapes Quentin S Crisp at the time in The Paris Notebooks most likely is Père Lachaise, and the tortured unfortunate, who challenged Apollo to a musical duel, Marsyas.  He’s right – Quentin that is, not Marsyas … Continue reading

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Revelations

I wasn’t sure I would go and if I did that I’d read; there was nothing appropriate in Mayakovsky to pay tribute to John’s communism.  John – not Elliott – wanted to go; of the Writers’ Group, he rated John’s … Continue reading

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An All-day Party

Night before I prepared the guinea fowl for slow-cooking.  In the morning I started on vegetarian dishes from recipes I’d been saving: harissa roast potatoes, beans, tomatoes and fried potatoes, baked eggs on chard but gave up on John’s appearing … Continue reading

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Wild Boys Party

In see-through red shirt I’ve had for over fifty years and Japan windcheater, off to Quentin’s party with champagne, cake, box of chenin blanc, card and Latin dictionary.  He’d said he’s doing Latin.  Wrong address directed me to right one, … Continue reading

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Snapshots of Performance Art for Writing Group

I was feeling shoogly.  At Clapham Junction a girl took the emptied seat.  I wasn’t going to make her feel bad about it.  What did I have to do to get a seat, faint?  A burly young bespectacled man offered … Continue reading

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