#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
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 ...
when I look back now at the abuse I took from her I feel shame that I was so innocent,
The bandages were helpful. L.A. County Hospital had finally come up with something. The boils drained. They didn’t vanish but they flattened a bit. Yet some new ones would appear and ri...
So I was surprised when the phone rang a couple of nights later and it was Cassie. “What are you doing, Hank?” She gave me the address, it was either Westwood or West L. A. “I have plen...
I paid this one’s fare all the way… to San Francisco then flew up to meet her at her br… and I got drunk and talked all night about a redhe…
But the next morning it was the sa… “That’s all, Chinaski. Nothing fo… It went on for a week. I sat ther… Then Bobby Hansen, one of the old… “I don’t care. I’m not kissing hi…
the cops want me to come down and… some guy who tried to rape me. I’ve lost the key to my car again;… the key to open the door but not t… to start it.
the hearse comes through the room… the beheaded, the disappeared, the… mad. the flies are a glue of sticky pas… their wings will not
you no faces no faces at all laughing at nothing—
hooray say the roses, today is bla… and we are red as blood. hooray say the roses, today is Wed… and we bloom wher soldiers fell and lovers too,
has been going on for some time. there is this young waitress where… at the racetrack. how are you doing today?” she asks… winning pretty good,” I reply.
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....
I cross the room to the last wall the last window the last pink sun with its arms around the world
you know I sat on the same barstool in Phi… 5 years I drank canned heat and the cheape… I was beaten in alleys by well-fed…
There are sketches on the walls of… and outside a large green bus swer… insanity sprung from a waving line… says the radio, and Jane Austin,… “I am going to do her portrait on…