#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
Wednesday night found me at the airport waiting for Iris. I sat around and looked at the women. None of them—except for one or two—looked as good as Iris. There was something wrong with...
Style is the answer to everything. A fresh way to approach a dull or… To do a dull thing with style is p… To do a dangerous thing with style… Bullfighting can be an art
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…
Marina Louise, Fay named the child. So there it was, Marina Louise Chinaski. In the crib by the window. Looking up at the tree leafs and bright designs whirling on the ceiling. Then she...
“...I’ve seen people in front of their typewriters in such a bind that it would blow their intestine… right out of their assholes if the… were trying to shit.”
64 days and nights in that place, chemotherapy, antibiotics, blood running into the catheter. leukemia.
The ex-Japanese wrestler who was into real estate sold Lydia’s house. She had to move out. There was Lydia, Tonto, Lisa and the dog, Bugbutt. In Los Angeles most landlords hang out the ...
One night I was assigned to the stool next to Butchner. He didn’t stick any mail. He just sat there. And talked. A young girl came in and sat down at the end of the aisle. I heard Butch...
when Whitman wrote, “I sing the b… I know what he meant I know what he wanted:
my first and only wife painted and she talked to me about it: it’s all so painful
red summers and black satin charcoal and blood ringing the sheets while snails are stepped on and moths go batty
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
red hair real she whirled it and she asked “is my ass still on?”
drinking German beer and trying to come up with the immortal poem at 5 p.m. in the afternoon. but, ah, I’ve told the
think of de vils in hell and stare at a beautiful vase of flowers as the woman in my bedroom