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With the permission of William Joyce                                                                         MONEY Money is the last ...

Monday 4 March 2019

I got an email from william yesterday. He is currently working on a new book of Poetry but he sent me a little piece on ' Tropic Of Cancer ' by Henry Miller. Now, Henry is my favourite writer ( Sorry William, You're up there, but he's number one. ) and it was through the suberb  MILLER, BUKOWSKI  AND THEIR ENEMIES 2nd edition that I came across William's writing. I cannot recommend that book more highly. It changed me a great deal. The reason I read it was because it was about Henry Miller and in fairness I think William hits the nail on the head in any essay he writes about him. This is only a snippet of a piece but is as they say right on the money.



   Uncle Henry

                 "It is getting toward dinner time and people are straggering back to their rooms with that weary, dejected air which comes from earning a living honestly."     And later, "They might as well be lunatics."

                 This one line explains why Tropic of Cancer was banned for 27 years.  We can't have 100 million people alert as to why they are so miserable.  They'd quit beating on junior or the missus and smash all the machines in the street.   In one sentence Miller proves  why reform will never work,  why no institution can ever be propped up. Now we know why humans need scapegoats, why mobs will eventually take to the streets, and why they will be mowed down by machine gun fire.  

                It is a line so obvious that I have to wonder why no one said it before.  But no one did.  It is a line that every human has experienced but not a single human articulated.  Jobs!  What a joke.  Eliminate the job and you get a semblance of sanity.  In the same instant you eliminate Karl  Marx and replace him with the Marx Brothers.  You ditch Adam Smith and Alexander Hamilton, Napoleon and Socrates.   Enter sunshine, step forward leisure time, music, reading, consultation with the consciense, all because of the breath of a single line of language.

              The men who banned Tropic of Cancer were the same men who paid hookers $20.00 an hour to give them a little relief.  They were the pillars of society but the janitors who  prop up scaffolding against the  pillars to keep them from falling down. They wore white shirts and neckties and swore by the gospel of respectability by which they meant the inherent corruptibility of the human body which they labeled filth.  And not a single intellectual was going to stand up to them.

              Miller has been dead for forty years but he is less known today than he was in 1961.   Now, 2019, we live in a time when rancor steams from every other face and the great nations, once again, are ready to fry each other.  All this because 10 billion people turned their back on one line of one man long forgotten.  Let blood run in the gutters.