#AmericanWriters
I met a genius on the train today about 6 years old, he sat beside me and as the train
They had this thing called Training Class, and so for 30 minutes each night, anyhow, we didn’t have to stick mail. A big Italiano got up on the lecture platform to tell us where it was....
it was Philly and the bartender sa… what and I said, gimme a draft, J… got to get the nerves straight, I’… going to look for a job. you, he s… a job?
I watched the board and the 6 drop… after a first flash of 18 from a m… of 12...two minutes to post and a… kept jamming against my back, but… I bet 20 to win and walked out to…
yeah sure, I’ll be in unless I’m… don’t knock if the lights are out or you hear voices or then I might be reading Proust if someone slips Proust under my d…
She wasn’t really a cop, she was a clerk-cop. And she started coming in and telling me about a guy who wore a purple stick pin and was a “real gentleman.” “Well,” I’d ask, “how was old ...
our marriage book, it says. I look through it. they lasted ten years. they were young once.
twitching in the sheets— to face the sunlight again, that’s clearly trouble. I like the city better when the
it’s unfortunate, and simply not the style, but I don’t care: girls remind me of hair in the sink, girls remind me of intestines and bladders and excretory movements; it’s unfortunate a...
she only fucks the ones she doesn’… to marry. to the others she says you’ve got to marry me. or maybe she just fucks the ones s…
The phone rang the next morning. Lydia had gone back to her place. It was Bobby, the kid who lived in the next block and worked in the porno bookstore. “Mindy’s down here. She wants you...
We got back to 1010. I had my check. I’d left word that we didn’t want to be disturbed. Tammie and I sat drinking. I’d read 5 or 6 love poems about her. “They knew who I was,” she said....
On Christmas I had Betty over. She baked a turkey and we drank. Betty always liked huge Christmas trees. It must have been 7 feet tall, and 1/2 as wide, covered with lights, bulbs, tins...
I remember the Model-T. Sitting high, the running boards seemed friendly, and on cold days, in the mornings, and often at other times, my father had to fit the hand-crank into the front...
turmoil is the god madness is the god permanent living peace is permanent living death. agony can kill