Are people crumbling footprints and thumbprints, Hansel and Gretel evidence for the predator-eyes in the stars? What are you going to do? Turn to stone and wait hundreds of years for Disney to unfreeze your head? You get to live then?
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Are people crumbling footprints and thumbprints, Hansel and Gretel evidence for the predator-eyes in the stars? What are you going to do? Turn to stone and wait hundreds of years for Disney to unfreeze your head? You get to live then? A self he has to live with hardness and those unresting places one has. He contradicts himself a lot. Get a load of this. But the breast is not a face.
Although I know these things very well, nevertheless every time I saw the breasts of an intelligent woman they bestialized and transformed her for me so, so much. Young girls with such touching expressions became, though they did not themselves suspect it perhaps, good for nothing but to be enjoyed by and to belong to everybody.
His topless women in Bali who "got over" being women, no feminity left. Their bodies are taking their breasts back into bones. But he has already demonstrated the men playing at being women on stage as coquettes. So how can these Balinese women forget being women, then? I could see old women falling apart in their bodies, hosting and tumorized.
It is something beyond purpose and yet he ruins it saying they gave birth to men but not women? Only the women, though? As opposed to the Europeans, always opposed to someone else. Compared to them the British women are whores, he says, to be taken by a dog on the street. Michaux would absolutely hate the Gothic Lolita fashion in Japan today as he hated everything about Japan when he visited, and all French fashions after the sixteenth century.
Right, so what about a society that hinged very much on parental pressure? Are you modest because you want to be or because you could reasonably expect to be honor killed for stepping out of line?
He does note that the female factory workers are considered well out of the way of accepted propriety. They had to eat. Why does everything anyone does have to be about someone else? I hate that so much. But again he says something else. French women, no longer transported by their love for him. The Arabian woman has dreams to come between you.
The Chinese prostitute clings to him, takes care of him. But is it really love? Oh no, no. I loved reading about the sexual positions in their architecture. I had a misery picturing Michaux in India, swarms of men and all of the women behind doors. I only searched his picture online after fed up with ugly Southern Indians this, ugly Japanese that. Too many typical French features crammed on a bust. Is that the off the hook mystery if you flipped the vision.
This could be true, in the way that if you go anywhere you are likely to find someone to fit inside some truth for you. I feel like this all said a lot more about him than it did about them, though. Why would you want to? He really wants them to be unknowable. Why the hell Michaux thought he knew everyone back home in France, though?
I could never go back to Asia in the s. China most of all, probably. He loved China and hated the hell out of Japan. Everything about them is ugliness to Michaux. He wrote things about the Western influence on Japan that he says could never happen in China. There are restrictions against playing World of Warcraft for too long in China today. Kids had wasted away in front of the game.
In the USA parents have let their children die in the name of the computer generated role playing game. He would really hate today as much as yesterday. Conquering everybody and looking like everybody else. Someone must go graceless for another to move him. I liked how he disagrees that the pigeon makes a cooing sound. He hears harsh coughing inside throats alighting on copulation. Or the sing songy flight of an insect. The bat you might not know is there like their buzzing.
He reminds me of people you see on goodreads sometimes. They loved this last book they read so much that they now gotta remove a star from all other books. No clue of why they loved this new book. An open something. I wish A Barbarian in Asia had been about this suggestion.
I wish I could read Chinese poetry. Every word kaleidoscopic paths. A building up in a big picture hint. Like that. It must be a parted seas stampede. I love stuff like how the music in Korea used to be sung by only prostitutes. An overlapping truth, not drowning. Maybe Michaux just had a lovely idea that it was peaceful for the monkey his own kind demanding entertainment all the night long.
But still, keeping the horse alive because a stranger. I feel that you can get peace within yourself too, just that why does it have to hide. But you know, the wondering what could have been true about people, telling his definitives to shut the hell up, and living off of the mirror smiles. Chinamen should always be thought of as animals. The Hindus, as other animals, the Japanese ditto, and the Russians and the Germans, and so on. And in each race these three varieties: the adult man, the child, and the woman.
Three worlds. A man is a creature who understands nothing about a child, and nothing about a woman. And neither they nor ourselves are right. We are obviously wrong, all of us.
Un barbare en Asie
Or just fancy Lewis Carroll -- with whom Henri Michaux also has something in common -- reporting a trip to Africa. In either case the result would be somewhat like this original and stimulating refraction of the Orient through a very special personality. Similarly the illustrative quotes chosen here are merely those the complete review subjectively believes represent the tenor and judgment of the review as a whole. We acknowledge and remind and warn you that they may, in fact, be entirely unrepresentative of the actual reviews by any other measure. Still, he was no wild-eyed tourist, and though he designates himself a barbarian in Asia he felt no qualms in airing his opinions. French Indo-China is notably and curiously avoided.
Un Barbare en Asie