shoutout to @biooshocker for putting this into my head
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Aimei Ozaki: 'Fleshy Big Head', Baudelaire series (1982)
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Il faut être toujours ivre. Pour ne pas sentir l'horrible fardeau du temps qui brise vos épaules, il faut s'enivrer sans trêve. De vin, de poésie ou de vertu, à votre guise. Mais enivrez-vous!.
- Charles Baudelaire
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Ohhhh the title for the new bonus track intrigues me so much!
For anyone who doesn’t know, "The Albatross" is a poem by Baudelaire, talking about how in the sky, it’s such a regal and majestic bird, but on the ground it is clumsy and ridiculous- and then draw a comparison to the poet (himself) and how once on the ground he is only mocked, and "His giant wings prevent him from walking"
Given that the album is titled "the tortured poets departments", I definitely see this as being an intentional reference! 👀
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La Chute de la maison Usher. Edgar Allan Poe & Charles Baudelaire. Paris, Éditions de la Sirène, 1919
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Ok, so I'm not typically a 19th-century poets girl, but I tutored a wonderful kid who was a huge Edgar Allan Poe fan, and I don't think it's possible not to like Oscar Wilde, so here we go. I think based on the categories here, I'm probably a George Eliot, but nothing is a perfect fit. Sound off in the tags where y'all fall on this one!
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“What can an eternity of damnation matter to someone who has felt, if only for a second, the infinity of delight?”
Paris Spleen, Charles Baudelaire
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Aku no Hana by Shūzō Oshimi
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Federico Beltrán Masses (Spanish, 1885-1949) • À une passante (Les Fleurs du Mal, Baudelaire) • 1946
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« Il est des parfums frais comme des chairs d’enfants, Doux comme des hautbois, verts comme des prairies » écrit Baudelaire dans Correspondances, comme pour décrire les saveurs d’un agrume.
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When I said dear reader was Lemony Snicket coded and we’re getting the tortured poet department in succession…
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Illustrations from Baudelaire's Les Fleurs du mal, Georges Rouault, c. 1937
And yet to wine, to opium even, I prefer
the elixir of your lips on which love flaunts
itself; and in the wasteland of desire
your eyes afford the wells to slake my thirst.
Charles Baudelaire, Sed non Satiata (Unslakeable Lust)
trans. Richard Howard
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Babel of arcades and stairways,
It was a palace infinite,
Full of basins and of cascades
Falling on dull or burnished gold
Charles Baudelaire, 'Parisian Dream' (Fleurs du Mal) (Trans. William Aggeler)
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