By Andy Warhol
Conceptually detailed, hilarious and scary, often called “pornography” within the long island instances e-book Review’s unique evaluate and as a “work of genius” in Newsweek’s, a: a singular is the ideal literary manifestation of Andy Warhol’s sensibility.
In the overdue sixties Warhol got down to flip a alternate booklet right into a piece of dad paintings, and the end result used to be this staggering account of the famously influential staff of artists, superstars, addicts and freaks who made up the manufacturing unit milieu. produced from audiotapes recorded in and round the manufacturing unit, a: a unique starts with the remarkable Ondine popping numerous amphetamines after which follows its characters as they communicate with encouraged, speed-driven wit and minimize swaths in the course of the golf equipment, espresso retailers, hospitals, and whorehouses of 1960’s new york.
"A new form of pop artifact" -- Library magazine
"Hellish hymns from Amphetamine Heaven, the vox populi of the Velvet Underground ... those everyone is witty and they're grand, they do poor issues and make lousy feedback. Ondine is an East Village prima donna, a hoarder of gossip and finery and orgies and medication. he's filthy, yet he's humorous ... The characters characterize the weird new type, untermenschen prefigurations of the technological millenium"
-- Robert Mazzocco long island assessment of Books "
A paintings of genius" -- Newsweek
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Ten thou sand might be the right price for Manolo, after all he had agreed to talk to him, which was already extraordinary for a gypsy, and maybe he’d be able to worm something out of him that he hadn’t told the police. But what if Manolo knew noth- The Missing Head o f Damasceno Monteiro 27 ing more than he had already said, and this appointment was just a trick to get his hands on a few baguines, as he would put it? Firmino tried to play for time. ” and again the rubbing of forefinger and thumb.
Firmino gave it a brief nauseated glance and turned to Senhor Diocleciano, who was seated at the head of the table as if playing host at a formal dinner. “I fished it up at the mouth of the Douro,” he told Firmino. ” Firmino looked at the head on its dish, trying to overcome his repugnance. It must have been in the river some days. It was swollen and purple, one eye had been eaten by fish. He tried to give it an age, but failed. It might have been twenty, but the man could even have been forty.
Could be,” said Firmino. ” asked Firmino, fast losing hope. ” Firmino thanked him and left. It was nearly two in the af ternoon. He wasn’t in the mood to look for a restaurant. Maybe he’d find a bite to eat at Dona Rosa’s. Just as long as the plat dujour wasn’t tripe. S u plat du jour that day was rojoes k la mode de Minho. Perhaps it was not a dish particularly suited to the heat of Oporto, but Firmino was crazy about those hunks of pork fillet sauteed with potatoes. There he was in the dining-room for the first time since his arrival at the pension.
a by Andy Warhol