#1973 #AmericanWriters #AtTerrorStreetAndAgonyWay #BurningInWaterDrowningInFlame
I was back in L.A. about a week and a half. It was night. The phone rang. It was Cecelia, she was sobbing. “Hank, Bill is dead. You’re the first one I’ve called.” “I’m so glad you came ...
Style is the answer to everything. A fresh way to approach a dull or… To do a dull thing with style is p… To do a dangerous thing with style… Bullfighting can be an art
it sits outside my window now like and old woman going to market… it sits and watches me, it sweats nevously through wire and fog and dog—bark
invent yourself and then reinvent… don’t swim in the same slough. invent yourself and then reinvent… and stay out of the clutches of medioc…
I took my girlfriend to your last poetry reading, she said “yes”, “yes?” I asked. "she`s young and pretty",
there are many single women in the… with one or two or three children and one wonders where the husbands have gone or where the lovers have gone
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.
was a truly amazing man he pretended to be rich even though we lived on beans and… when we sat down to eat, he said,
Then I developed a new system at the racetrack. I pulled in $3,000 in a month and a half while only going to the track two or three times a week. I began to dream. I saw a little house ...
Curly Wagner picked out Morris Moscowitz. It was after school and eight or ten of us guys had heard about it and we walked out behind the gym to watch. Wagner laid down the rules, “We f...
self-congratulatory nonsense as th… famous gather to applaud their see… greatness you wonder where
“she shoots up in the neck,” she t… me. I told her to stick it into my ass and she tried and said, “oh oh… and I said, “what the hell’s the m… she said, “nothing, this is New Y…
There was another German Shepherd. It was hot summer and he came BOUNDING out of a back yard and then LEAPED through the air. His teeth snapped, just missing my jugular vein. “OH JESUS!...
you haven’t lived until you’ve been in a flophouse with nothing but one light bulb
the rag. she sat there, glooming. I couldn’t do anything with her. it was raining. she got up and left.