#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
this man sometimes forgets who he is. sometimes he thinks he’s the Pope. other times he thinks he’s a
they talk down through the centuries to us, and this we need more and more, the statues and paintings in midnight age
An old man asked me for a cigarett… and I carefully dealt out two. Been lookin’ for job. Gonna stand in the sun and smoke.” He was close to rags and rage
sick with the flu drinking beer my radio on loud enough to overcome the sounds of the
in junior high school Big Max was a problem. we’d be sitting during lunch hour eating our peanut butter sandwiche… and potato chips.
the motion of the human heart: strangled over Missouri; sheathed in hot wax in Boston; burned like a potato in Norfolk; lost in the Allegheny Mountains;
3 small boys run toward me blowing whistles and they scream you’re under arrest! you’re drunk!
Lydia liked parties. And Harry was a party-giver. So we were on our way to Harry Ascot’s. Harry was the editor of Retort, a little magazine. His wife wore long see-through dresses, show...
But, there were still bits of action. One guy was caught on the same stairway that I had been trapped on. He was caught there with his head under some girl’s skirt. Then one of the girl...
my friend is worried about dying he lives in Frisco I live in L.A. he goes to the gym and works with the iron and hits
sometimes you climb out of bed in… I’m not going to make it, but you… remembering all the times you’ve f… you walk to the bathroom, do your… in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my,…
Just give me a little atomic bomb Not too mutch just a little Enough to kill a horse in the stre… But there aren’t any horses in the… Enough to knock the flowers from a…
The riots ended, the baby calmed down, and I found ways to avoid Janko. But the dizzy spells persisted. The doctor wrote me a standing order for the green-white librium capsules and the...
there waas a rock-and-mud slide on the Pacific Coast Highway and… detour and they directed us up int… and traffic was slow and it was ho… we were lost.
over my radio now comes the sound of a truly mad org… can see some monk drunk in a cellar mind gone or found,