#AmericanWriters
I read a book about John Dos Pas… the book once radical—communist John ended up in the Hollywood Hi… and reading the Wall Street Journal
I cross the room to the last wall the last window the last pink sun with its arms around the world
On Christmas I had Betty over. She baked a turkey and we drank. Betty always liked huge Christmas trees. It must have been 7 feet tall, and 1/2 as wide, covered with lights, bulbs, tins...
they laugh continually even when a board falls down and destroys a face or distorts a
great writer remains in bed shades down doesn’t want to see anyone doesn’t want to write anymore doesn’t want to try anymore;
yesterday drunken Alice gave me a jar of fig jam and today she whistles
she was a short one getting fat and she had once been beautiful and she drank the wine she drank the wine in bed and
Dee Dee had to pick up her son at the airport. He was coming home from England for his vacation. He was 17, she told me, and his father was an ex-concert pianist. But he’d fallen for sp...
I awaken about noon and go out to… in my old torn bathrobe. I’m hung over hair down in my eyes barefoot
the men phone and ask me that. are you really Charles Bukowski the writer? they ask. I’m a sometimes writer, I say, most often I don’t do anything.
Luckily I had auto insurance that paid for a rental car. I drove Katherine to the racetrack in it. We sat in the sundeck at Hollywood Park near the stretch turn. Katherine said she didn...
bet on #6, I try red, I stare at… wonder what Chekhov would do, and… blue plates sit eating the carnage… and look very much like Russians a… my left tit and try to smile like…
in the earliest possible day in the blue-headed noon I will telegraph you a boney hand decorated with
she’s young, she said, but look at me, I have pretty ankles, and look at my wrists, I have pret… wrists
After dinner we came back and we talked. She was a health food addict and didn’t eat meat except for chicken and fish. It certainly worked for her. “Hank,” she said, “tomorrow I’m going...