#AmericanWriters
drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end o… of wine, I have typed from a dozen… poesy an old man maddened for the flesh of young gi…
you shoulda been at this party, I know you hate parties but you seem to be at most of them… anyhow, I took my girl, you know her—
my doctor has just come into his o… from surgery. he meets me in the men’s john. “God damn,” he says to me, “where did you find her? oh, I jus…
screen like a burglar to take your… the snake had crawled the hole, and she said, tell me about yourself.
The voices of the people were the same, no matter where you carried the mail you heard the same things over and over again. “You’re late, aren’t you?” “Where’s the regular carrier?” “He...
in the hospitals and jails it’s the worst in madhouses it’s the worst in penthouses
The track had moved down the coast a hundred miles or so. I kept paying the rent on my apartment in town, got in my car and drove down. Once or twice a week I would drive back to the ap...
It was 3 or 4 days before I had to fly to Houston to give a reading. I went to the track, drank at the track, and afterwards I went to a bar on Hollywood Boulevard. I went home at 9 or ...
When Jonstone saw me the next 5 a.m. he spun in his swivel and his face and his shirt were the same color. But he said nothing. I didn’t care. I had been up to 2 a.m. drinking and screw...
The next day was Saturday and Debra cooked us breakfast. “Are you coming antique hunting with us today?” We ate in silence for a while, then she said, “I liked your reading at The Lance...
don’t ever get the idea I am a poe… at the racetrack any day half drun… betting quarters, sidewheelers and… but let me tell you, there are som… who go where the money goes, and s…
They had me in the counselor’s office in one of the back rooms of the second floor. “Let me see how you look, Chinaski.” He looked at me. “All right, Mr. Chinaski, we’d like to know whe...
I’m out of matches. the springs in my couch are broken. they stole my footlocker. they stole my oil painting of
out of the arms of one love and into the arms of another I have been saved from dying on th… by a lady who smokes pot writes songs and stories,
I was sitting in my shorts one afternoon a week later. There was a tender little knock on the door. “Just a moment,” I said. I put on a robe and opened the door. “We’re two girls from G...