#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
I got back, made love to Lydia several times, got in a fight with her, and left L. A. International late one morning to give a reading in Arkansas. I was lucky enough to have a seat by ...
I didn’t have any friends at school, didn’t want any. I felt better being alone. I sat on a bench and watched the others play and they looked foolish to me. During lunch one day I was a...
saw him sitting in a lobby chair in the Patrick Hotel dreaming of flying fish and he said “hello friend you’re looking good.
I got his ashes, she said, and I… out to sea and I scattered his ash… they didn’t even look like ashes and the urn was weighted with
during my worst times on the park benches in the jails or living with whores
at exactly 12:00 midnight 1973-74 Los Angeles it began to rain on the palm leaves outside my window
Jack London drinking his life awa… writing of strange and heroic men. Eugene O’Neill drinking himself o… while writing his dark and poetic works.
majestic, magic infinite my little girl is sun on the carpet—
bluebird there’s a bluebird in my heart tha… wants to get out but I’m too tough for him, say, stay in there, I’m not going
what you see is what you see: madhouses are rarely on display. that we still walk about and scratch ourselves and light
the history of melancholia includes all of us. me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and nothing.
Cecelia sat and watched us drink. I could see that I repulsed her. I ate meat. I had no god. I liked to fuck. Nature didn’t interest me. I never voted. I liked wars. Outer space bored m...
I didn’t contest the divorce, didn’t go to court. Joyce gave me the car. She didn’t drive. All I had lost was 3 or 4 million. But I still had the post office. “I saw you with that bitch...
you go for these wenches, she said… you go for these whores, I’ll bore you. I don’t want to be shit on anymore… I said,
outside my window Sunday. I am eating a grapefruit. church is over at the… Orthodox to the west.