Hi. My name's Henry. If you've read my other blog, POP PHILOSOPHY, you may already know this, but the likely hood is that you won't know, and now, even though you know, you may not care especially. But this is a blog where that doesn't matter at all, as it is not about me, it's about books.
Seeing as I have been nurturing a growing obsession with books and their covers, I have decided to devote an entire blog to them. You may notice some flux between the two, but that's okay too, as the content of this will remain fairly niche - books!
What I would really love is to get a dialogue going, so if you have anything to say, please feel free to voice it in the comments box below. It's always nice to meet people as passionate about something as yourself. Go on, don't be a stranger.
To kick start the Aesthetic Book Blog is this wonderful and sinister cover to Charles Bukowski's collection of poems that date between 1974 - 1977. I don't know who the designer is, so give me a heads up if you know. And I can't decide if it's screen print or etching - or both, or neither! Again, any opinions appreciated. Regardless of my ignorance, I still love looking at it. Its got a kind of Medieval/Bauhaus thing going on, which I think really is a winner.
And here's a sample poem, which I neither wrote nor originally uploaded. Instead I found it HERE, on his matching website.
the price |
drinking 15 dollar champagne Cordon Rouge with the hookers.
one is named Georgia and she doesn't like pantyhose : I keep helping her pull up her long dark stockings.
the other is Pam prettier but not much soul, and we smoke and talk and I play with their legs and stick my bare foot into Georgia's open purse. it's filled with bottles of pills. I take some of the pills.
"listen," I say, "one of you has soul, the other looks. can't I combine the 2 of you? take the soul and stick it to the looks?"
"you want me," says Pam, "it will cost you a hundred."
we drink some more and Georgia falls to the floor and can't get up.
I tell Pam that I like her earrings very much. her hair is long and a natural red.
"I was only kidding about the hundred," she says.
"oh," I say, "what will it cost me?"
she lights her cigarette with my lighter and looks at me through the flame :
her eyes tell me.
"look," I say, "I don't think I can ever pay that price again."
she crosses her legs inhales on her cigarette
as she exhales she smiles and says, "sure you can." |