an eye for the ladies
R.A.: Most of the drawings in it are of Aline. Is she your muse?NYTM chats with R. Crumb.
R.C.: Oh, you know. She's around a lot, and she always wanted me to draw her. Back in the 70's and 80's, she'd say: ''I'll pose. I'll pose.'' After about half an hour, she'd say, ''Can I go yet?''
L.E.: Do girls ever dress up like one of your fantasies to meet you?
R.C.: When Aline first met me, she used to dress up to suit my fancy. She kind of got tired of that. She used to put on white knee socks and these little schoolgirl outfits. She was a lot chubbier in the early days. Now she's gotten quite thin. It's a little disheartening to see her derrière go down. But she's happier being that way, so what the heck. But she's still quite muscular. She says her ideal body type now is Lance Armstrong's.
originally posted by xowie
Comments
8:30 P.M. just north of Dover Beach
Somewhere the worlds at war
But right now baby, I’m twenty three years old
A grown ass man
And you, you’re a scrinch of an inch past twenty two
Looking bored and beautiful
Well butter my popcorn
What more do we need
Your mom’s at the movies
Your sisters at the mall
Bite your bottom lip
And bet your top dollar
I’ve been dreaming towards gentle fender benders
Laying next to you
Content in my Unconditional surrender
It’s easy to forget
somewhere the worlds at war
Posted by: Chris | April 5, 2003 10:58 AM
Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold
The sea is calm tonight,
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Agean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
1867
Posted by: xowie | April 5, 2003 11:35 AM