#AmericanWriters
think of de vils in hell and stare at a beautiful vase of flowers as the woman in my bedroom
they say that nothing is wasted: either that or it all is.
Bobby and Valerie came by and I introduced everybody around. “Valerie and I are going to take a vacation and rent rooms by the seashore in Manhattan Beach,” said Bobby. “Why don’t you g...
was on the train to Del Mar and I… to go to the bar car. I had a beer… back and sat down. pardon me,” said the lady next to… sitting in my husband’s seat.”
re-reading some of Fante’s The Wine of Youth in bed this mid-afternoon my big cat
the cockroach crouched against the tile while I was pissing and as I turned my head he hauled his butt
A day or so later I got a poem in the mail from Lydia. It was a long poem and it began: Come out, old troll, Come out of your dark hole, old troll, Come out into the sunlight with us an...
I had to take a shit but instead I went into this shop to have a key made. the woman was dressed
was much easier to be a genius in… only 3 or 4 literary magazines and… or 5 times you could end up in Ger… you could possibly meet Picasso fo… maybe only Miró.
it is like this when you slip down, done like a wound-up victrola (you remember those?) and you go downtown
the schoolyard was a horror show:… freaks the beatings up against the wire f… our schoolmates watching glad that they were not the victim…
saw him sitting in a lobby chair in the Patrick Hotel dreaming of flying fish and he said “hello friend you’re looking good.
you no faces no faces at all laughing at nothing—
The flies are angry bits of life; why are they so angry? it seems they want more, it seems almost as if they are angry
around 2 a.m. in my small room after turning off the poem machine for now