#1973 #AmericanWriters #AtTerrorStreetAndAgonyWay #BurningInWaterDrowningInFlame
We ran up the long ramp. I was ca… At the escalator Tammie saw the f… “Please,” I said, “we only have f… “I want Dancy to have the money.” “All right.”
I’m soft. I dream too. I let myself dream. I dream of being famous. I dream of walking the streets of London and
at the hospital that I have been going to the nurses seem overweight. they are bulky in their
“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” We got into my car and she told me where she lived. We stopped for a couple of big steaks, vegetables, stuff for a salad, potatoes, b...
my grandmother had a serious gas problem. we only saw her on Sunday. she’d sit down to dinner and she’d have gas.
big sloppy wounded dog hit by a car and walking toward the curbing making enormous sounds
“You ought to try to be like Abe Mortenson,” said my mother, “he gets straight A’s. Why can’t you ever get any A’s?” “Henry is dead on his ass,” said my father. “Sometimes I can’t belie...
if you’re a man, Los Angeles is w… battle; or if you’re a woman, and… the rest, you sail it against a mo… when you grow grey you can hide in… in a mansion so nobody can see how…
My father had two brothers. The younger was named Ben and the older was named John. Both were alcoholics and ne’er-do-wells. My parents often spoke of them. “Neither of them amount to a...
I was always a natural slob I liked to lay upon the bed in undershirt (stained, of course) (and with cigarette holes)
almost dawn blackbirds on the telephone wire waiting as I eat yesterday’s forgotten sandwich
I see old people on pensions in th… supermarkets and they are thin and… proud and they are dying they are starving on their feet an… nothing. long ago, among other lie…
The next morning Tammie found a prescription in her purse. “I’ve got to get this filled,” she said. “Look at it.” It was wrinkled and the ink had run. “Well, he tried to get this prescr...
rose red sunlight; take it apart in the garage like a puzzle:
stew at noon, my dear; and look: the ants, the sawdust, the mica plants, the shadows of banks like bad jokes; do you think we’ll hear