#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
my goldfish stares with watery eye… into the hemisphere of my sorrow; upon the thinnest of threads we hang together, hang hang hang
I finally, got a day off, and you know what I did? I got up early before Joyce got back in and I went down to the market to do a little shopping, and maybe I was crazy. I walked through...
I was standing in line at the bank… when the old fellow in front of me dropped his glasses (luckily, with… case) and as he bent over
you just don’t know how to do it, you know that, and you can’t do a lot of other useful things either. it’s the fault of the
“Get a seat for her, put her on the tab,” I told Marty. “All right. We’ll set her up. We’re S.R.O. We’ve had to turn away 150 and it’s 30 minutes before you go on.” “I want to introduce...
64 days and nights in that place, chemotherapy, antibiotics, blood running into the catheter. leukemia.
I got lucky the next day. They called my name. It was a different doctor. I stripped down. He turned a hot white light on me and looked me over. I was sitting on the edge of the examina...
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...
they go on writing pumping out poems— young boys and college professors wives who drink wine all afternoon while their husbands work,
Curly Wagner picked out Morris Moscowitz. It was after school and eight or ten of us guys had heard about it and we walked out behind the gym to watch. Wagner laid down the rules, “We f...
But the next morning it was the sa… “That’s all, Chinaski. Nothing fo… It went on for a week. I sat ther… Then Bobby Hansen, one of the old… “I don’t care. I’m not kissing hi…
the droll noon where squadrons of worms creep up like stripteasers to be raped by blackbirds. I go outside
I was a bum in San Francisco but… to go to a symphony concert along… and the music was good but somethi… audience was not and something about the orchestra
I had been corresponding with a lady in San Francisco for several months. Her name was Liza Weston and she survived by giving dance lessons, including ballet, in her own studio. She was...
women don’t know how to love, she told me. you know how to love but women just want to leech.