The Wisdom Of Henry Miller – Quote Number One – From HM’s Book, Your Capricorn Friend

I will continue to post quotes from Henry’s Books as often as I can, as I edit my manuscript, Mia Loves Henry Miller, Book Number One – A collection of erotic letters addressed to Henry Miller.

I look forward to starting letters to Henry Miller again.

PromoMialovesHenrym01MiaBurlesquedress1 (2)

mialoveshenrymiller – Letter 46 – Small, Unplanned Set Backs, Passion, Surrender, Sex, and Missing You, Henry Miller


Letter 46 – Small, Unplanned Set Backs, Passion, Surrender, Sex, and Missing You, Henry Miller

I’m writing this letter on 6-5-2012 at 1:13 p.m

“Why not accept the challenge of the Spirit and yield? Why not surrender, and thus enter into a new life?” –Henry Miller, The Time of the Assassins

Cover of "From Your Capricorn Friend: Hen...

“Good luck! Keep writing and painting – the only salvation in this cheesy world.” –Henry Miller, Letter to Irving Stettner, Stroker Magazine, Thurs. 4/5/1978, From your Capricorn Friend

Dear Henry,

I have missed writing to you so much!  I haven’t been able to write due to working night and day, around the clock, to meet a couple of previous art deadlines.  My art show in Maple Grove, Minnesota was a success.  For the past several weeks, I’ve been continuing to experience severe headaches, resulting from three bulging discs in my neck, as well as severe TMJ, and advance stage arthritis in my jaws, which occurred from two severe car accidents when I was younger.  I have also been on bed rest over four weeks due to the ugly, awful, deadly demon, whooping cough.  There has been a severe outbreak in Minnesota and several other states such as California and Wisconsin.  Due to my kidney disease and compromised immune system, sometimes I am susceptible to picking up highly contagious illnesses.  This sucks.  But it could be worse, I could be dead.  I haven’t written because my body has felt weak and my head has been cloudy.  I also haven’t written because I really don’t like to talk about my faults, flaws, and illness.  However, to give you an accurate view about the obstacles in my life, I feel the need to disclose all of me, the good, the bad and the ugly.  I am just now feeling the energy and clear headedness to attempt to write this letter to you.

Roger Jones asked HM this question in 1977, Conversations with Henry Miller – “It must have taken great courage to write the way you have.

HM’s answer: “Oh yes, that I must have had, everybody concedes that.  I don’t take credit for it. It was just natural with me.  Oh wait a minute, no I’ll modify that.  I had to be absolutely desperate before I could write like that.  I had been put right down, to the very bottom, ignored, and spat upon, and humiliated.  Everything wrong happened to me.  And my attitude was, I’ll get back at you, you bastards, fuck you.  I’ll show you who I am.”  –Conversations with Henry Miller, edited by Frank L. Kersnowski and Alice Hughes.  This excerpt was printed in the Queens Quarterly, 84 (1987), 351-65 Henry Miller at Eighty–Four, Roger Jones / 1977 Continue reading

mia loves henry miller – Letter 34 – That Night in Tintagel (erotic story)

mia loves henry miller

Letter 34 – That Night in Tintagel  (erotic story)

1/31/12 – 11:42 p.m.

Dear Henry Miller,

“I never did mind about the little things.” —Bridget Fonda, from the movie, Point of No Return 

I’m writing this letter on 1/31/12 at 11:42 p.m.

“I never did mind about the little things.” –Bridget Fonda, from the classic movie, Point of No Return

 Dear Henry,

I have had a very long day.  I’m exhausted. I have been dealing with show stuff all day – crazy drama burlesque show stuff.  My mantra with a forced smile is, “I never did mind about the little things.”

 Since I did not have the time to write a detailed letter today of an erotic or exciting event, I decided to go back through my archives of old, erotic stories.  One of my favorite books to read is the Merlin Trilogies, by Mary Stewart, which inspired this story.  I thought that maybe you’d like to read a bit of erotica, which I wrote so many years ago, shortly after I started with   If you enjoy the days of King Arthur and Merlin, you might enjoy this story.

HMS Uther (P62)

HMS Uther (P62) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

That Night in Tintagel

“Welcome, my Lord,” I greeted confidently.  My chest felt as if an army of men galloped inside, charging for the unknown, as I stared down upon King Uther Pendragon, as if a vision were ascending the steps.  For months I’d longed for him while I was heavily protected by Cornwall guards inside the damp, cold walls of Tintagel Castle.  Tonight we will be united as one, fulfilling Destiny’s plan.

 My mind told me that my desire for the King was foolish, laced thick with adultery.  But my heart told me otherwise.  It whispered to the alcoves in my soul that this was a night fabricated by fMy breath lodged in my throat.  My heart thumped with guilt.  Fright and thrill danced closely together within, and my heart ceased beating while I waited for him in the open doorway on the second landing, trembling.  I stood there, nobly cloaked in a long, shimmering gown of white, with a soft dark blue mantle hanging Roman style over one shoulder, and jewels tucked decoratively within my long tresses of black hair.ate.  Merlin confirmed this for me as well, many weeks ago.  I could not deny my undying lust for Uther.  Yet, my mind kept swarming with thoughts about my matrimony to my husband, Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall.  Guilt stabbed at my conscience like a thousand sharp, pointed icicles, because King Uther now appeared in my husband’s image, disguised for our long awaited night, thanks to Merlin’s magic.

My head spun.  I felt lightheaded with dizziness, my heart raced wild, and my youthful body swooned with intoxication when Uther reached the second floor landing, took my hands eagerly in his, and then kissed me with the kind of passion that Gorlois could not render.  Please, don’t mistake my love for Gorlois.  He’s never bid me harm, only love.  It’s just that I was fated to be a royal Queen.  I’m a daughter of a King, and I come from a long line of royalty.  From the second I saw beguile in Uther’s eyes, the day of his crowning in London, I knew we were predestined for one another.

Uther Pendragon, of the TV show Merlin, is a N...

Uther Pendragon, of the TV show Merlin, is a Neocon (Photo credit: KAZVorpal)

Instantly a warm heat radiated through my tall, svelte body when Uther enfolded me within the thick material of his scarlet cloak, hiding my gown from the guards.  It felt as if I’d waited an eternity for his embrace, nuzzling my head into his masculine chest, listening to the robust beat of his heart.

 “Come,” Uther politely ordered, rushing to get behind my chamber door.  I attempted to conceal my zealousness, following him into my quarters. Our silhouettes danced closely upon the stone walls as our bodies intimately pressed together nearby the firelight, which flickered, swayed, and wafted the aroma of fresh apple wood.

“At last Lady Ygraine, our time has finally come.” The King breathlessly spoke before pressing his athirst lips upon my slightly parted mouth. My tongue could not wait for him to enter between my scarlet lips. With haste, I tossed my title of Lady out my window, plunging with force my taste buds into the King’s mouth, slithering sinfully deep inside, feverishly attempting to lick his sinful soul.  When our tongues unraveled, separating his lips from mine, I took his head and rested it within the crevice of my bosom.  Softly I stroked Uther’s gray painted hair with my hand, admiring how much he looked like a little boy craving for dessert, even disguised as the Duke of Cornwall.  My sex opened and shut, contracting like a beating heart, desirous for Uther to stroke it when I felt his breath pant puffs of hot, raw air upon my billowing chest, causing sparks to ignite between my thighs, setting my bloomers aflame.

“For weeks I’ve longed for this night,” Uther whispered, kissing softly the warm crevice between my heaving bosoms.

King Arthur’s Castle Off Tintagel Head, Cornwall

King Arthur’s Castle Off Tintagel Head, Cornwall (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“And I as well, my Lord,” breathlessly I replied, tipping my head back in rapture, closing my Celtic blue eyes, feeling his strong hands stroke upon my skin.  A lusty moan escaped me when I felt his large hands squeeze my breasts as if they were ripe melons, splashing waves of ecstatic pleasure through me, making my sense of anticipation feel like a tidal wave within.  Extremely titillated, I drew in my breath, exhaling ragged pants of passion.

Woman On Bed (2)

At first I was embarrassed for getting so aroused in front of Marcia, my oldest and most devout servant, who tended the fire, pretending not to look our way with scold inflaming her cold, grey eyes.  But I wasn’t going to let her disapproval halt this night.  Immediately I attempted to gather my self-confidence, remembering that I was the Lady and I need not explain my behavior to my domestic.  Yet, still I had to somehow gulp down my guilt like bitter tasting medicine, finding the strength to overcome my betrayal to Gorlois before I commanded to her, “Marcia, come here.  I need your assistance undressing. Now!” I didn’t want to wait for Uther to remove my robe, for I was unsure as to when my real husband, Gorlois the real Duke of Cornwall would return to me. I always wondered when he goes into battle, if he’ll ever return.  Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t. Will the God’s strike me down for thinking this way? Am I a demon in disguise?

 I glanced at the reproached flame in Marcia’s eyes when they transcended into wantonness, as she obediently strolled my way.  I didn’t see the wooden hairbrush in her right hand, which she carefully hid behind her back. Nor did I see her place it upon a pillow when she approached nearby me.  Marcia possessed the same look she gets when she bathes me. I believe it’s been years since her sexual appetite’s been fed.  She never speaks of a lover or husband.  I think the lust between Uther and I had set her bloomers aflame as much as mine.

 To be perfectly honest, her arousal fueled my fire even more.  She was the age of my mother; yet, I pined for her anyway.  I don’t know if it was her soft, yet stern, maternal touch which I desired – or, her discipline for coveting with Uther behind my husband, Gorlois’ back – maybe both.

 “Please, sit down,” I quietly told Uther, pointing to a finely crafted mahogany chair near my bed.  Quickly my blood rushed to my hot and humid sex.  A diabolic ache pounded on the tip of my pink, fleshy bulb.  An instinctual fervor submerged itself into the tiny knot, which aches profusely between my swollen petals of glossy flesh. My heart fluttered with anticipation and arousal when Marcia slipped my gown off my alabaster shoulders, which glistened in the flickering glow of firelight.  A roused shiver moved through me when she began untying my tightly laced corset.  My breath became more ragged and ravenous when my slip was removed, exposing my bare breasts before the King’s eyes, which now burned with carnal fever.

 My beautiful attire was messily strewn in various places upon the stone floor.  Relieved from my constrictive garment, I sighed, and then sucked in a deep breath, filling my lungs deep with oxygen.  I savored I felt an erotic shiver move through me.  It was a welcomed, yet, unfamiliar sensation.  My nipples erected when I felt the caress of a current of air which swirled within my chambers.  It decadently fondled my nakedness with its warm flames of airy breath.

 Suddenly it felt as if a thousand hot arrows had shot to my swollen, lady parts, piercing it with foment when Marcia’s arms embraced firmly around me from behind, her thumb and forefinger  fondly pinching my nipples, twisting and turning, shooting pure rapture into my veins as if an opiate.

 “Oh,” I lushly moaned, surprised by my delight. I had no idea I’d get so stimulated.  My vehement eyes locked with Uther’s. The King sat in silence, staring entranced with this scene. I don’t think he’d ever witnessed two women become so intimate with each other before.  I mischievously grinned, satisfied when I observed his loins grow hard beneath his finely tailored tunic and trousers.  Oh how I wanted his hard flesh to pound inside my wet, swollen sex!

taylors falls007

“You’re a very naughty woman!” Marcia chided, pinching my nipples even harder, as if she could hear my thoughts, making me almost wince with tears.  Yet, the heat between my legs persisted in rising as Marcia continued to reprimand, “If I didn’t know that it was the hand of fate playing out this night like the Devil hypnotically controlling its spawn, I’d punish you with much more than a mere spanking.”

My stomach churned with liquid fear, which hit my soul fast and hard, causing my adrenaline to rush fiercly.  My heart twittered with thrill when my head rapidly snapped over my left shoulder in Marcia’s direction.  My eyes are beholding the perverse glint in Marcia’s cold, gray eyes.  Just the thought of a spanking had set another burning blaze between my thighs.  Its flame pulsed high, lapping at my dripping flesh when Marcia gently removed the jewels from my hair, liberating my strands of raven silk to fall elegantly over my shoulders, its tips tickling the bare skin on my breasts, just above my areoles.  My bosoms swelled and my nipples erected harder when I felt the firm, wooden brush teasingly smooth my hair, birthing small goose bumps upon my skin, radiating warm tingles in the bottoms of my feet, curling my toes with hot anticipation.

“Bend over my knees, now!” Marcia demanded, spryly yanking my bloomers, soiled with my juice, down past my knees.  My craving for her was much too strong, so I abided.  With humility I bent over her knee as she instructed.  Shame flushed hot and red across my face, burning my cheeks, much like my bottom would soon feel, knowing Uther was intently observing.  Embarrassed tears escaped my eyes when I tightly shut them, awaiting the first strike upon my creamy white flesh.  I knew within I needed to submit – to cleanse my soul of my guilt, before I could permit the King to take me – all of me.  Although, I must confess that I feared my forthcoming pain.

“Please don–” my pleas for mercy were interrupted by the sound smack of Marcia’s brush colliding with my vulnerable bottom, drawing a painful, yet delicious cry from my mouth.  My body jolted forward from the unexpected force.  My hips unconsciously raised higher, ravenous to feel my sting increase.  However, Marcia didn’t lavish more pain upon me.  She teased me with the gentle massage of her hand, lightly rubbing in circles where it stung the most on my warm and pink buttocks.  My mind forgot about the King watching as my body melted into Marcia’s old, yet still strong legs.  Soon I was lost within the softness of her nurturing touch.

 My erogenous dew salaciously dripped from my torrid loins, as I rested upon Marcia’s knees. Instantly my eyes opened wide!  A yelp forced its way out of my throat when I abruptly felt the back side of the brush cut bitterly into my flesh, torturing the tender spots.  Thwap! Thwap!  Marcia’s brush continued on smacking the delicate curves of my buttocks, until they glowed with a vibrant red until my right arm instinctively reached behind to cease my punishment.

 As quick as a frog captures a fly, Marcia dominantly took hold of my wrist, preventing me from halting her blow.  My body writhed from the wretched pain.  My legs kicked at the air with frustration, my sobs became louder, yet my sex pulsated with wretched desire, overflowing with hot juice, dampening Marcia’s dull gray, full length skirt.  Marcia didn’t relent, she persisted in spanking my bottom until she heard King Uther beg her to stop; sitting completely naked in the mahogany chair, his eyes in a mesmerized glaze, his cloak, tunic, and trousers splayed in disheveled piles nearby.  I don’t know if he begged her to stop for fear of my anguish, or because his sword of flesh was solid with desire, lusting to plunge it into my wetness, to experience my constricting walls around his blade, to feel the exaltation as he pierced into the core of my existence.

taylors falls014

“Dine on her, my Lord,” Marcia tempted the King, with my flower in full bloom, her rigid fingers tightly stretching my petals apart, bravely daring him, knowing that she possessed what he yearned for.  Every so often Marcia would plunge two of her fingers deep into my entrance, wiggling, probing, and pressing my slippery wet walls, making such a delicious squish-squish sound.  When Uther stalked my way like a lion on the hunt, Marcia left my side to tend to the fire again and heat water for my sponge bath afterwards.

The coarseness of Uther’s beard scratched roughly at my thighs as he drew nearer to my vulva.  Deeply I inhaled, sensing his hot breath panting heavily upon my glossy bulb of stiff pink flesh, teasing it until it ached to be engulfed.  I eased myself downward on the bed. My moans of pleasure caught sideways in my throat when I felt Uther’s cunnilingus kiss.  I raggedly sighed when the fiery walls of Uther’s mouth encased my tingling flesh, sucking upon it like a candy, biting softly now and then, relishing my sweet, seductive flavor.

Arthur Uther Pendragon standing outside of the...

Arthur Uther Pendragon standing outside of the Stonehenge monument fence (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Urgently my hips thrust upward, pressing hard against Uther’s mouth.  I screamed with thrill when his tongue plunged into the depths of me.  My breath became spasmodic, like gales before a storm.  My body moved convulsively.  My legs spread further apart.  My passion roared with the thunderstorm outside the castle.  My eyes flickered upwards in my head like lightning in the sky, and my body quaked with ecstasy like the earth when thunder fiercely rumbles.

“Take me, Uther! ” I wailed with utmost need.  “Take me now! Please!”  Immediately Uther stopped lapping like a savaged wolf, but his thirst was not slaked.  I could tell he wanted more.  However, my clitoris raged with fire, burning out of control with desire.  My genitalia opened wide, seeking fulfillment.  I could tell by the insatiable gaze in Uther’s eyes that he wanted to feel my loins as much as I lusted to feel his.  My sex pulsed with an amatory greed and desire, observing him kneel upright, stroking his massive sword as if preparing for battle. I had never wanted a man to stab my sex as much as I did right now.


My ragged pants of aroused breath came fast and furious when Uther thrust into my dripping wet chasm with his hot, throbbing phallus.  Instantly my back arched high off the bed.  When I finally collapsed upon the bed, my hips impelled downward, attempting to swallow him deeper into me.  Tightly I clenched onto his manliness, attempting to capture this sensation, never to release it.  Stroke by sumptuous stroke our worlds unified and became magical, as if our lovemaking was a doorway into another dimension.


“Oh Lord yes! Yes! YES!” I cried out repetitiously, ascending my highest zenith.  My hair whipped from side to side with my head’s wild thrashing. My long fingernails embedded themselves into Uther’s sweaty flesh, attempting to hold on and sustain my ecstasy.  A long, gratifying string of orgasmic moans expelled from my parched lips while I intently observed Uther climb his pinnacle of ecstasy, rolling his eyes into the back of his head, indulging himself so deeply into our rhythmic pleasure.  Erotically I rode King Uther in the glow of firelight and silver moonbeams, reaching for his hands, placing them on my breasts, making him roughly fondle them, forcing him to please me.  His eyes widened as the rhythm of my ride increased with fury.  I felt like a half crazed maniac, screaming with ecstatic pleasure, drunk from my lust.  Suddenly every muscle in both of our bodies tensed like a corset pulled tight.  I shuddered with an orgasm when I felt King Uther’s semen spray hotly within, painting my walls a thick and creamy white.  Electricity surged from my soul to his.  Lightning flashed violently on the skyline.  A gust of wind whirled past, extinguishing our fire, now causing only the moonlight to illuminate our entwined bodies, as we panted, attempting to catch our breath, my body collapsed upon his, limp like a leaf in the rain.

Later, while Uther cuddled in my arms, I was alarmed by one of Gorlois’ men, who burst into my chambers, informing me my husband, the Duke was dead.  All words escaped me when I saw the shocked look on his face, witnessing Gorlois’ spitting image resting in my bed, naked near my side.  I couldn’t explain.  I tried to weep for my loss, yet my elation for Uther consumed me.  I felt torn with emotions.  Two weeks later I decided to wed Uther, and was crowned Queen as fate had foretold.

It’s been ten months since that stormy night.  I now cry with my handsome newborn son, Arthur cradled in my arms.  In one hour Marcia will be delivering him to Merlin.  I know I must do as I promised.  It is my payment for that enraptured night.  I know deep inside Arthur will grow to become a great man, inspiring many for thousands of years to come with his nobility, mysticism, and honorable ways.  He will be the light within the dark, fulfilling Destiny’s plan.  Merlin will protect him and teach him to be a brave, courageous, virile man.  Someday he’ll become King and fall in love with a beautiful Queen.  I can only hope she’s more faithful than I.  May he never learn of that torrid, adulterous night in Tintagel.

I hope that you enjoyed my story, Henry.  I must say goodbye for now.

Bisous, Mon Amour,


“When I’m good, I’m very good, but when I am bad, I am better.” –Mae West

Mae West posing in front of mirror for promotion

Mae West posing in front of mirror for promotion (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

mia loves henry miller – Letter 32 – To Love or Hate Him? Henry Miller, 50 Year Anniversary of Tropic of Cancer

mia loves henry miller

Letter 32 – To Love or Hate Him? Henry Miller, 50 Year Anniversary of Tropic of Cancer

1/29/12 – 2:06 p.m.

Dear Henry Miller,

“I’m not a saint, and probably never will be one. Though it occurs to me, as I make this assertion, that I have been called that more than once, and by individuals whom the court would never suspect capable of holding such an opinion. No, I’m not a saint, thank heavens! Nor even a propagandist of a new order. I am simply a man, a man born to write, who has taken as his theme the story of his life. A man who has made it clear, in the telling, that it was a good life, a rich life, a merry life, despite the ups and downs, despite the barriers and obstacles (many of his own making), despite the handicaps imposed by stupid codes and conventions, Indeed, I hope that I have made more than clear, because whatever I may say about my own life which is only a life, is merely a means of talking about life itself, and what I have tried, desperately sometimes, to make clear is this, that I look upon life as good, good no matter on what terms, that I believe it is we who make it unlivable, we, not the gods, not fate, not circumstances.” –Letter from Henry Miller to Trygve Hirsch

I have been doing some research on the internet regarding stories, blogs, and newspaper columns which have been written about you – especially the recent story published by the New York Times.  There’s been some press due to your 50 year anniversary of Tropic of Cancer.  Some people love you and some people hate you.  Some people love your writing and some people can’t stand it – especially many strong, opinionated, female activists.  I must admit, there are some of your books, I really don’t get sucked into, and then there are other books of yours which completely mesmerize me.

What I find so fucked up about critics or journalists trashing you in present time for something you daringly wrote many years ago, is that today, every movie, television show; magazine ad is full of sex or violence.  Everyone is pushing the limits, daring to go to the extreme.  Everything in our society is so laced with violence and sexuality.  I think people need to quit being so judgmental and hypocritical.  Sex is an amazing gift.  We find it more accepting to show murder and killing and beatings in our media than we do sex.  Sexuality is a beautiful thing and people need to quit being so damn uptight about it, as well as hypocritical.  We would not be born into this world without smut, sex, passion, love, heat and kink!  Our sexuality is a large drama of our lives.  Why do we try to hide and deny something that is so natural and good?  I don’t see the animal kingdom feeling shame for their acts of procreation.  Unless you are harming someone against their will sexually, it should not be looked upon as such a forbidden subject in the 20th century. Continue reading

mia loves henry miller – Letter 29 – Early Birthday Surprises, Sybians and Sex Machines

mia loves henry miller

Letter 29 – Early Birthday Surprises, Sybians and Sex Machines

“Suddenly, without let or warning, a dynamo broke loose inside her.  Every particle of her molten being was convulsed with shuddering raptures.” –Henry Miller, Crazy Cock

1/23/12 – 9:51 p.m.

Dear Henry Miller,

I’m finally getting the chance to write a kinkier story. However, I felt the need to tell you about Mr. Cali Man, in order to make sense of my upcoming letters. I’ve been itching to write about my highly erotic, Saturday night, ever since it occurred.  I had an amazing weekend!  I’m still feeling high from it. I told Mr. C that I wanted new, kinky memories for my birthday.  I desire more explicit content for my letters to you. I wanted something sexual, sensual and so very naughty.

“When I think of sex I think of it as a universe, part unknown, mysterious, possibly forever unknowable.” –Henry Miller, The World of Sex 

I arrived at the loft early on Saturday morning, so I could get a head start on cleaning it for our upcoming evening and guests.  Mr. C will meet me here later in the afternoon. We are signing our third lease for our loft, and this was the first time that we were entertaining guests here, which was our main intention when we initially rented it.  My mind daydreamed of what might happen later that night as I cleaned.  My aroused body craved for our upcoming evening.  I could hardly wait. Continue reading

mia loves henry miller – Letter 27 – Lesson in Trust with Mr. C

mia loves henry miller

Letter 27  Lesson in Trust with Mr. C

“Sure, what’s wrong with being mothered? I spoke of this in a piece I did about love a while back (MLLE, January, 1964) What’s a woman’s value, if it isn’t a force tying men to life, inspiring them to be vital and creative, soothing them when they came home, as they often do,  with their tails between their legs?  There’s something ridiculous about the way so many pompous men regard woman as helpless things who need protection from the world.  A real woman needs no protection.  She doesn’t live in a man’s shadow.  She turns on the light.  And having such an all-women women can make a life or death difference in the way a man lives.” –Henry Miller, Conversations with Henry Miller, Edited by Frank L. Kersnowski and Alice Hughes

1/16/12 – 9:41 a.m.

Dear Henry Miller,

Good Morning!

This weird fluctuating weather in Minnesota fucks me up.  It was freezing cold on Friday and warm again on Sunday, feeling like spring time. I’ve had a bad headache most of this weekend.  I feel fatigued from fighting the pain. But, I wanted to write, to hopefully forget about the agony from the headache that still remains in my skull like bruising, deep echo.

I was going through some of my old poetry, journals and notes on my computer, this past weekend, discovering new topics to write to you.  I found an old diary entry and want to share a salacious memory with you – one that remains fresh in my memory, as if it happened just yesterday.

“Henry glowed. When I said that I had to go, after we talked a long time, Henry took me into his room and began kissing me, and with Fred so very near, Fred the aristocrat and sensitive man, probably hurt. “I can’t let you go,” says Henry. “We’ll close the door.”  I gave myself to that moment with frenzy.” –Anais Nin, Henry and June Diary, 1931 to 1932

This erotic experience happened more than a decade ago, when Mr. C and I were first married, living at the five bedroom farm house, just outside of the suburbs.  It was in the summer – a very hot and humid day.  We didn’t have an air conditioner, but somehow we made it through, escaping the misery of the summer heat for several hours. Continue reading

mia loves henry miller – Letter 24 – Love Letters, Midnight to Paris, Erotic Fantasies and the Roaring Twenties

mia loves henry miller

Letter 24 – Love Letters, Midnight in Paris, Erotic Fantasies and the Roaring Twenties

 “That night I was going to hear Henry Miller speak at an acting class, my house burned down.  I didn’t go to the lecture, but a few weeks later I still wanted to meet him.  I began to ask around for his address so I could write to him. At the same time, I was trying to refurnish my home.  At an estate auction I discovered a first edition set of books titled Women through the Ages.  I took out one of the volumes, and there folded inside was a letter from Henry Miller to a woman.  How could I not bid on the books? Three thousand dollars later I owned them and had Miller’s address.  I wrote him, enclosing the letter I had found, as well as a few “actress” photographs of myself that I thought might pique his curiosity. A few days later, Henry sent the first of fifteen hundred letters he was to write to me.  We became good friends and, perhaps, even more.” —Brenda Venus, Dear, Dear Brenda


6:33 p.m.

Dear Henry Miller,

I wish that I would’ve been able to communicate to you via letters, when you were alive.  I would have savored and cherished the words you might have written to me in reply to my letters, upon paper.   Your past lovers, Brenda Venus, Hoki Tokunda, and Anais Nin were lucky to possess a bit of your soul, capturing your spirit with the words you once wrote to them in numerous letters. The great passion you possessed when you were alive, must have bled into the ink like deep, flowing blood. Continue reading