#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
cigarettes wetted with beer from the night before you light one gag open the door for air
I cut the middle fingernail of the… finger right hand real short and I began rubbing along her cunt
the dead can sleep they don’t get up and rage they don’t have a wife. her white face like a flower in a closed
the boy walks with his muddy feet… soul talking about recitals, virtuosi,… the lesser known novels of Dostoev… talking about how he corrected a w…
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…
invent yourself and then reinvent… don’t swim in the same slough. invent yourself and then reinvent… and stay out of the clutches of medioc…
Again I was on a new route. The Stone always put me on hard routes, but now and then, due to the circumstances of things, he was forced to place me on one less murderous. Route 511 was ...
The boys on Dorsey station didn’t know my problems. I’d enter through the back way each night, hide my sweater in a tray and walk in to get my timecard: We had a game going, the black-w...
like the fox run with the hunted and if I’m not the happiest man on earth
I saw her when I was in the left… going east on Sunset. she was sitting with her legs crossed reading a paperback.
a very miraculous thing just happe… my beerbottle flipped over backwar… and landed on its bottom on the fl… and I have set it upon the table t… but the photos were not so lucky t…
she bent over the side of the bed and opened the portfolio along the side of the wall. we were drinking. she said, “you promised me these
the legs are gone and the hopes—th… and I haven’t shaved in sixteen da… but the mailman still makes his ro… water still comes out of the fauce… myself with glazed and milky eyes…
After dinner we came back and we talked. She was a health food addict and didn’t eat meat except for chicken and fish. It certainly worked for her. “Hank,” she said, “tomorrow I’m going...
I met an old drunk on the street one afternoon. I used to know him from the days with Betty when we made the rounds of the bars. He told me that he was now a postal clerk and that there...