Robert Desnos/ Corps et Biens

Robert Desnos/ Corps et Biens
L’Aumonyme (1923)

Vingt fois buvez ce vin.

L’or est hors de nos mains

qui demain

palperont les cinq seins

d’une femme plus belle que

la qui bêle.
Timide { à nos portes

humide{ ”

on la porte en ville

(la beauté est vile)

Mille grains de mil

pour les gringalets
ricochez sur la vie.
(Gallimard, 1953, 1968)
In 1919, Robert Desnos met the poet Benjamin Péret who introduced him to the Paris Dada group and André Breton, with whom he soon became friends. While working as a literary columnist for Paris-Soir, Desnos was an active member of the Surrealist group and developed a particular talent for automatic writing. He, together with writers such as Louis Aragon and Paul Éluard, would form the literary vanguard of surrealism. André Breton included two photographs of Desnos sleeping in his surrealist novel Nadja.[2] Although he was praised by Breton in his 1924 Manifeste du Surréalisme for being the movement’s “prophet”, Desnos disagreed with Surrealism’s involvement in communist politics, which caused a rift between him and Breton. Desnos continued work as a columnist.
“Corps et Biens” was published in 1930, at a time when French Surrealism in literature (and in painting and movies) was, so to say, on the way back. Breton, Soupault, Aragon, Péret, Artaud and Desnos himself had already published their most significant writings in the past decade. 
I bought this book way back in the sixties, when I was a student at the Univerity of Leuven, Belgium.


Syd Barrett

Syd Barrett
I always liked and still like Syd Barrett’s music. I’m very fond of the early Floyd singles and the 1st Floyd album, which definitely is the ultimate Syd Barrett album, even more than his solo albums IMHO. 

Early Floyd and many other British late sixties bands almost ‘out-psychedelic-ed’ westcoast bands like the Dead and the Airplane.

I’m still a fan too of the subsequent ‘legacy’ albums like ‘Saucerful of Secrets’, ‘More’, ‘Ummagumma’, ‘Obscured by Clouds’, even ‘Atom Heart Mother’.

When the Floyd became a stadium rock band, I lost interest all together.

This youtube track ‘Jugband Blues’ is the closing song on ‘Saucerful’ and the interview with producer Norman Smith and Peter Banks sheds some light on how it was created.

Photo: yesterday.


The old woad mill

The old woad mill
Not far from where I live, the Winge river is sprinkled with a string of old mills ( or rather what’s left of the buildings). One of these was a woad mill designed to produce blue pigment for clothing, sheets, paintings and so on. Woad’s original habitat is the Caucasus, but being a rather invasive hardy plant species, it settled in Western Europe in the Middle Ages. 

In the 17th century indigo became more popular than woad as a blue dye, later to be replaced by synthetic indigo. Indigo was extracted from INDIGOFERA tinctoria, a plant which was imported from India. 

The mill was built somewhere before 1550. In 1914 the German invaders removed the cogwheels. The water lock and the remnants of the thatched roof still evoke distant memories of a long forgotten local industry.

Woad’s scientific name: ISATIS tinctoria
Mill photo: 2 days ago.

Other photos: the woad plant which bears yellow flowers, contrary to expectations,

                         and indigo pigment extracted from woad.



Cows and donkeys are all lined up for better times to come.

Did you know cows have this bias towards evergreen pastures?

Don’t ask why but be there when the sun shines intermittently.

And just to remind you: we are 3 of 4 feet from home, alive on longer days.
Consider days that grow longer, any day any size you like.

Days all lined up for better times to come & the future as such.

I can only speak out for myself now but hear, hear!

There’s a plane in some distant summer sky, that you just painted.
Donkeys (or cows) have no particular liking for summer days.

For all we know; still, our knowledge makes considerable progress.

We almost know you and you might be real close to knowing us.

In those days, even planes were lined up for better things to come.
Godenkind 23-11-2017
I wrote this poem (sounds more like thinking out loud) a few days ago. I hope you like it. I wrote the first line in English, it just came naturally to me while I was walking through fields nearby. And I found myself continuing in English for no particular reason. But now I have to translate it into Dutch, because that is my native language.
Photos: yesterday, close to home.


John Wyndham&Lucas Parkes/The Outward Urge

John Wyndham & Lucas Parkes/ The Outward Urge


A.D. 1994
Ticker Troon emerged from his final interview filled with an emulsion of astonishment, elation, respect, and conviction that he needed refreshment.

The interview had begun formally, as he had expected. Announced by the clerk, he had marched in smartly, and come to attention before the wide desk. The old boy behind it had turned out to be a considerably older boy than he had been prepared for, but his type was authentic. Lean, he was, with a handsome, slightly weathered, aristocratic face, carefully trimmed hair that was quite white, and rows of ribbon on his left breast.

He had raised his eyes from a clipful of forms to inspect his visitor carefully, and even at that point Ticker had begun to have a suspicion that the interview was not goung to be entirely routine, for the old boy – or, to identify him more fully, Air Marshal Sir Godfrey Wilde – did not employ simply that keen-eyed air of summming one’s man up at leasure and appearing incompletely satisfied, which had been the drill at lower grades of interviews. He was really looking at Ticker as a person, and somewhat oddly, too. Still looking, he nodded slowly to himself two or three times.


The author of ‘The Day of the Triffids’, writing ten years before the first moon-landing, excitingly plots the stages in the exploration of the Solar System.
The novel’s stated authorship has a peculiar history. It was published as co-written by John Wyndham and Lucas Parkes, but they were different pen-names for the same writer. He had used the pen-name Lucas Parkes earlier in his career. Unlike most of his novels, The Outward Urge was conventional hard science fiction and his publishers decided that they wanted to use the Wyndham and Parkes byline because it was “not your usual Wyndham style”.

John Wyndham’s envisaged careers included farming, law, commercial art and advertising, and he first started writing short stories, intended for sale, in 1925.

The ‘outward urge’ was a factor in the Troon inheritance. It rocketed successive generations of the Troon family into space. The episodes related in John Wyndham’s novel show Troons involved involved in the building of the Space-Station, the occupation of the Moon, the first landing on Mars, and the trouble about Venus and the asteroids.
Trump in space…🤓
(Penguin Books, 1975)


Arthur C.Clarke/Imperial Earth

Arthur C.Clarke/ Imperial Earth

3 Terra

17 Washington, DC
‘Sorry about the weather’, said George Washington. ‘We used to have local climate control, but gave it up after an Indepence Day parade was blocked by snow.’

Duncan laughed dutifully, though he was not quite sure if he was supposed to believe this.

‘I don’t mind’, he said. It’s all new to me. I’ve never seen rain before.’

That was not the literal truth, but it was near enough. He had often driven through ammonia gales, and could still remember the poisonous cascades streaming down the windows only a few centimeters before his eyes. But this was harmless – no, benificent – water, the source of life both on Earth and on Titan. If he opened the door now he would merely get wet; he would not die horribly. But the instincts of a lifetime were hard to overcome and he knew that it would require a real effort of will to leave the protection of the limousine.(…)

(Pan Books, 1977)
Colonists from the entire solar system converge on the mother planet for the 2276 celebrations.
Duncan Makenzie, scientist-administrator from the underground colony of Titan, one of the outer moons of Saturn, has a delicate mission to perform – for his planet, his family and himself…

One of the many great sf novels I inherited from a younger brother of mine.