Thomas Edison: innovator, inventor, businessman. Little-known fact: he was also a Western Union employee.
We succeed because of pioneers and game-changers who have transformed Western Union into the global platform it is today. Check out some of the most influential people to walk our halls. After his employment at Western Union ended, Edison was able to pursue his scientific experiments and inventions full time, going on to invent the electric light system and motion pictures. Henry Miller is known for the success of his novel Tropic of Cancer. But prior to his career as an author, Miller worked at Western Union as a personnel manager. While working in the messenger department, he started working on his first novel, Clipped Wings.
With support from family and friends, he eventually quit to pursue writing full time. Miller's correspondence with Durrell was later published in two books. His works contain detailed accounts of sexual experiences.
His first published book, Tropic of Cancer , was published by Obelisk Press in Paris and banned in the United States on the grounds of obscenity. While the aforementioned novels remained banned in the US for over two decades, in , New Directions published The Cosmological Eye, Miller's first book to be published in America.
The collection contained short prose pieces, most of which originally appeared in Black Spring and Max and the White Phagocytes Only copies of Miller's chapbook On Turning Eighty were published. Published by Capra Press, in collaboration with Yes!
Press, it was the first volume of the "Yes! Capra" chapbook series and is 34 pages in length. In relation to reaching 80 years of age, Miller explains:. Late in life, Miller filmed with Warren Beatty for the film Reds, which was also directed by Beatty. He failed to perceive anything explosively comic in his anecdote.
In the sudden gloom the latter accidentally slipped his arm through the loose sleeve of her kimono. Her flesh was soft night and powder smooth. She made no attempt to change her position. Gently and quite casually he opened her kimono and clasped his hands about her dimpled form. She offered no more resistance to his embrace than a violet crushed between the leaves of the Heptameron. Their lips met and matched the silence of the dark.
In a few seconds Marcelle straightened up taut and commenced talking in a rapid nervous staccato. It was so very black in the room the instant after the lights went out that Leslie was not sure of his impressions. Nevertheless, he felt uneasy, strangely excited, as if the ether had communicated the intoxication of this silent union. Marcelle begged Moloch to continue his tale I swear it never happened. Not an accordion! Never, never!
As he did so, he peered defiantly through the partly opened kimono at her violet-tinted breasts. His hands trembled so that he dropped the match.
It flickered out quickly and he was obliged to fumble for another, availing himself meanwhile of the sudden blackness to rub against her body. The touch of her thigh made him glow all over. He quivered with premeditated ecstasies. Marcelle rose instantly and left his side.
She too trembled. In the same manner the islands of the Pacific, just before they slip from under the light of the sun, seem to glow with a dying zeal and tremble under the avalanche of extinction. The floor space in which Marcelle and Moloch simulated the execution of the dance was an irregular clearing, a rather circuitous lane studded with chairs and other objects against which they bumped cautiously, and with the speed of snails.
Leslie flung himself on a divan. He was absorbed in following the tantalizing movements of these two. With effort he could distinguish vaguely their welded forms, but he chose instead to lie back with eyes closed and listen to their heavy, irregular breathing, or the awkward scraping of their feet, drugged with desire. At times he had a feeling that they were not moving at all. Then the breathing grew heavier; the very atmosphere of the room became vitalized with their shuddering transports.
He felt completely overpowered. It phosphorized his senses. How had it affected her, he wondered; and immediately after he had formulated the thought came regret that he had taken so little advantage of his opportunity. It was useless to believe that she would give him a chance. If she did, it would be from pity.
But wait.. It sickened him to see what an idol she made of her Dion. He wished Moloch had chosen another night, another place, to perpetrate his seduction.
Moloch: or, This Gentile World is a semi-autobiographical novel written by Henry Miller in , initially under the guise of a novel written by his wife, June. Moloch: Or, This Gentile World [Henry Miller] on ykoketomel.ml *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Uncovered along with Crazy Cock in by Miller.
Not a damned thing else! He could actually feel that something was going to happen. It was in the air. They were perspiring freely, Moloch and Marcelle. She dashed to the bathroom to get her purse. Leslie detected the gleam of two slim white legs as she swished hurriedly past him.
He was sorely tempted to reach out and grab her … grab her anywhere. It made him sore, the two of them coming here and using the place as if it were a house of assignation.