#AmericanWriters
sitting on a 2nd-floor porch at 1:… while looking out over the city. could be worse. we needn’t accomplish great things…
Meanwhile, things went on. I had a long run of luck at the racetrack. I began to feel confident out there. You went for a certain profit each day, somewhere between 15 and 40 bucks. You...
I was sitting with an anarchist from Beverly Hills, Ben Solvnag, who was writing my biography when I heard her footsteps on the court walk. I knew the sound—they were always fast and fr...
the goldfish sing all night with g… and the whores go down with the st… the whores go down with the stars I’m sorry, sir, we close at 4:30, besides yr mother’s neck is dirty,
there are worse things than being alone but it often takes decades to realize this and most often
this poet he’d been drinking 2 or 3 days and he walked out on the stage and looked at that audience and he just knew he was going to do it. there was a grand piano on stage and he walke...
my friend William is a fortunate m… he lacks the imagination to suffer he kept his first job his first wife can drive a car 50,000 miles
this fear of being what they are: dead. at least they are not out on the s… are careful to stay indoors, those pasty mad who sit alone before the…
absolutely sesamoid said the skeleton shoving his chalky foot upon my desk, and that was it,
I am in this low—slung sports car painted a deep, rich yellow driving under an Italian sun. I have a British accent. I’m wearing dark shades
On Thanksgiving Iris prepared the turkey and put it in the oven. Bobby and Valerie came over for a few drinks but they didn’t stay. It was refreshing. Iris had on another dress, just as...
these things that we support most… have nothing to do with up, and we do with them out of boredom or fear or money or cracked intelligence;
Then Joyce wanted to go back to the city. For all the draw– backs, that little town, haircuts or not, beat city life. It was quiet. We had our own house. Joyce fed me well.) Plenty of m...
One night my father took me on his milk route. There were no longer any horsedrawn wagons. The milk trucks now had engines. After loading up at the milk company we drove off on his rout...
Born like this Into this As the chalk faces smile As Mrs. Death laughs As the elevators break