Tag Archives: Henry Miller

Help Go Deeper Press Select Our Team T-Shirt

Hi ho! Angela here, and I’ve got to say, I love hearing your opinion. So, I’m looking once again for your shrewd eye, your sound advice, and, of course, your high sense of fashion. Have a look below, and then add a comment that’ll let me and Lana know which shirt design you prefer. You know, the one you’d likely wear to Christmas mass or to your ex-wife’s wedding.

One more thing: I need to thank this handsome gentleman from vgkids.com for the unauthorized use of his pretty face.

Now, on you go!

Shirt No. 1: Indie Is Our Game

Shirt1

This is our introduction-to-the-world shirt: who we are and what we do, what our passion is. We’re thinking it could be your passion, too, and of course you want to share your passions with your community. But, you know, we need to confirm this. 

Shirt No. 2: A Tribute to the Forefolks of Our Genre

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These folks are the ground breakers–the innovators!–for what would become modern-day erotica: Anais Nin, Henry Miller, Pauline Reage, and Vladimir Nabokov. Thanks to the kind people at deathwishinc.com, from whom we stole this idea (their original was “Tribute to the Greats”). So, what do you think: Did we hit the nail on the head here or what?

As always, thanks so much, GDP family.

Thanks for supporting Go Deeper Press. If you’d like to browse our erotic, sex-positive e-books for brain and brawn, you can find our website here.

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Henry Miller Goes Deeper

Anais Nin

This is the first in a series of posts in which the Go Deeper editors quote sensational erotic writers, past and present, who show sexual desire as beautiful, or messed up, or deep, or crazy, or addictive, or romantic…or just plain hot.

Here is Henry Miller, in a letter to his lover, Anais Nin:

Yes, Anais, I was thinking how I could betray you, but I can’t.  I want you.  I want to undress you, vulgarize you a bit—ah, I don’t know what I am saying.  I am a little drunk because you are not here.  I would like to clap my hands and, voila—Anais!  I want to own you, use you.  I want to fuck you, I want to teach you things.  No, I don’t appreciate you—God forbid!  Perhaps I even want to humiliate you a little—why, why?  Why don’t I get down on my knees and just worship you?  I can’t.  I love you laughingly. 

Do you like that?

From A Literate Passion: Letters of Anais Nin and Henry Miller 1932-1953

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