#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
the swans drown in bilge water, take down the signs, test the poisons, barricade the cow from the bull,
Long walks at night— that’s what good for the soul: peeking into windows watching tired housewives trying to fight off
It’s never quite right, he said, t… the way the music sounds, the way… written. It’s never quite right, he said, a… taught, all the loves we chase, al…
The funeral was to be at 10:30 a.m. but it was already hot. I had on a cheap black suit, bought and fitted in a rush. It was my first new suit in years. I had located the son. We drove ...
I blacked out after that. I guess I had consumed more whiskey than I thought. I don’t remember arriving at Nicole’s. I awakened in the morning with my back to somebody in a strange bed....
I phoned Joyce. “How’s it working with Purple Sti… “What did he do when you told him… “We were sitting across from each… “What happened?”
The next time you listen to Borod… remember he was just a chemist who wrote music to relax; his house was jammed with peor e: students, artists, drunkards, bur…
dying for a beer dying for and of life on a windy afternoon in Hollywood listening to symphony music from m… on the floor.
welcome to my wormy hell. the music grinds off-key. fish eyes watch from the wall. this is where the last happy shot… fired.
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
self-congratulatory nonsense as th… famous gather to applaud their see… greatness you wonder where
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
which reminds me I shacked with Jane for 7 years she was a drunk I loved her my parents hated her
they don’t make it the beautiful die in flame— suicide pills, rat poison, rope, w… ever... they rip their arms off,
Vallejo writing about loneliness while starving to death; Van Gogh’s ear rejected by a whore;