conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a plot for a book about Lady, Darling, Flowers entitled Our Lady of the Flowers
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Our Lady of the Flowers: The novel tells the story of Divine, a drag queen who, when the novel opens, has died of tuberculosis and been canonised as a result.\nThe narrator tells us that the stories he is telling are mainly to amuse himself whilst he passes his sentence in prison – and the highly erotic, often explicitly sexual, stories are spun to assist his masturbation.\nJean-Paul Sartre called it "the epic of masturbation".\nDivine lives in an attic room overlooking Montmartre cemetery, which she shares with various lovers, the most important of whom is a pimp called Darling Daintyfoot.\nOne day Darling brings home a young hoodlum and murderer, dubbed Our Lady of the Flowers.\nOur Lady is eventually arrested and tried, and executed.\nDeath and ecstasy accompany the acts of every character, as Genet performs a transvaluation of all values, making betrayal the highest moral value, murder an act of virtue and sexual appeal.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first three paragraphs for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Our Lady of the Flowers
  An English translation based on the Arbalète edition was published by the Editions Morihien of Paris in 1949. The present text, which follows the now standard Gallimard edition, has been revised and corrected for English and American publication. Like the former, it is unabridged and unexpurgated.
  The translator is indebted to Richard Seaver for the exceptional care with which he read the translation, and takes this occasion to express gratitude for the number and diversity of his suggestions.
  In a sense, Our Lady is the height of aloofness. We do not even find in it–or at least not at first–the attempt at communication (a hesitant and contradictory attempt, to be sure) that resulted in his first poem, "The Condemned Man." A convict lets himself sink like a rock to the depths of reverie. If the world of human beings, in its terrible absence, is still in some way present, it is solely because this solitude is a defiance of that world: "The whole world is dying of panicky fright. Five million young men of all tongues will die by the cannon that erects and discharges.... But where I am I can muse in comfort on the lovely dead of yesterday, today, and tomorrow."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: another paragraph
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Mimosa wanted Divine to sit at her table. She said that she was rid of clients for the whole evening.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last five paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: At times I am shaken with a burst of brutal and unaccountable laughter. It resounds within me like a joyous cry in the fog, which it seems to be trying to dissipate, but it leaves no trace other than a wistful longing for sun and gaiety.
  What if I am condemned? I shall don homespun again, and this rust-colored garment will immediately entail the monastic gesture: hiding my hands in my sleeves; and the equivalent attitude of mind will follow: I shall feel myself becoming humble and glorious; then, snug under my blankets–it is in Don Juan that the characters come back to life on the stage and kiss each other–I shall, for the enchantment of my cell, refashion lovely new lives for Darling, Divine, Our Lady and Gabriel.
  I have read moving letters, full of wonderful touches, of despair, of hopes, of songs; and others more severe. I am choosing from among them one which will be the letter Darling wrote to Divine from prison:
  I'm writing a few lines to give you the news, which isn't good. I've been arrested for stealing. So try to get a lawyer to handle my case. Arrange to pay him. And also arrange to send me a money order, because you know how lousy things are here. Also try to get permission to come and see me and bring me some linens. Put in the blue and white silk pajamas. And some undershirts. Dearest, I'm awfully sorry about what's happened to me. Let's face it, I'm plain unlucky. So I'm counting on you to help me out. I only wish I could have you in my arms so I could hold you and squeeze you tight. Remember the things we used to do together. Try to recognize the dotted lines. And kiss it. A thousand big kisses, sweetheart, from
  The dotted line that Darling refers to is the outline of his prick. I once saw a pimp who had a hard-on while writing to his girl place his heavy cock on the paper and trace its contours. I would like that line to portray Darling.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It resounds within me like a joyous cry in the fog, which it seems to be trying to dissipate, but it leaves no trace other than a wistful longing for sun and gaiety.
  What if I am condemned? I shall don homespun again, and this rust-colored garment will immediately entail the monastic gesture: hiding my hands in my sleeves; and the equivalent attitude of mind will follow: I shall feel myself becoming humble and glorious; then, snug under my blankets–it is in Don Juan that the characters come back to life on the stage and kiss each other–I shall, for the enchantment of my cell, refashion lovely new lives for Darling, Divine, Our Lady and Gabriel.
  I have read moving letters, full of wonderful touches, of despair, of hopes, of songs; and others more severe. I am choosing from among them one which will be the letter Darling wrote to Divine from prison:
  I'm writing a few lines to give you the news, which isn't good. I've been arrested for stealing. So try to get a lawyer to handle my case. Arrange to pay him. And also arrange to send me a money order, because you know how lousy things are here. Also try to get permission to come and see me and bring me some linens. Put in the blue and white silk pajamas. And some undershirts. Dearest, I'm awfully sorry about what's happened to me. Let's face it, I'm plain unlucky. So I'm counting on you to help me out. I only wish I could have you in my arms so I could hold you and squeeze you tight. Remember the things we used to do together. Try to recognize the dotted lines. And kiss it. A thousand big kisses, sweetheart, from
  The dotted line that Darling refers to is the outline of his prick. I once saw a pimp who had a hard-on while writing to his girl place his heavy cock on the paper and trace its contours. I would like that line to portray Darling.