#AmericanWriters
“I’ve made it,” she said, “I’ve c… through.” she had on new boots, pa… and a white sweater. “I know what… want now.” she was from Chicago an… had settled in L.A.’s Fairfax dis…
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
liked D . H. Lawrence he could get so indignant he snapped and he ripped with wonderfully energetic sentenc… he could lay the word down
they called Céline a Nazi they called Pound a fascist they called Hamsun a Nazi and a f… they put Dostoevsky in front of a… squad
The first three or four days at Mears-Starbuck were identical. In fact, similarity was a very dependable thing at Mears-Starbuck. The caste system was an accepted fact. There wasn’t a s...
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.
she drives into the parking lot wh… I am leaning up against the fender… she’s drunk and her eyes are wet w… “you son of a bitch, you fucked me… didn’t want to. you told me to kee…
My drinking slowed down the next week. I went to the racetrack to get fresh air and sunshine and plenty of walking. At night I drank, wondering why I was still alive, how the scheme wor...
in San Francisco the landlady, 80… Victrola up the stairway and I pl… until they beat on the walls. there was a large bucket in the ce… filled with beer and winebottles;
she pulled her dress off over her head and I saw the panties indented somewhat into the crotch.
at one stage in my life I met a man who claimed to have visited Pound at St. Elizabeths. then I met a woman who not only claimed to have visited
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...
“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...
we talk about this film: Cagney fed this broad grapefruit faster than she could eat it and
he hooked to the body hard took it well and loved to fight had seven in a row and a small fle… over one eye,