#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
Julio came by with his guitar and… latest song. Julio was famous, he wrote songs a… published books of little drawings… poems.
I went with two ladies down to Venice to look for antique furniture. I parked in back of the store and went in with them.
dame some dogs who sleep at night must dream of bones and I remember your bones in flesh
It was 3 or 4 days before I had to fly to Houston to give a reading. I went to the track, drank at the track, and afterwards I went to a bar on Hollywood Boulevard. I went home at 9 or ...
there are these small cliffs above the sea and it is night, late night; I have been unable to sleep, and with my car above me
Cecelia sat and watched us drink. I could see that I repulsed her. I ate meat. I had no god. I liked to fuck. Nature didn’t interest me. I never voted. I liked wars. Outer space bored m...
self-congratulatory nonsense as th… famous gather to applaud their see… greatness you wonder where
sway with me, everything sad— madmen in stone houses without doors, lepers steaming love and song frogs trying to figure
the cops want me to come down and… some guy who tried to rape me. I’ve lost the key to my car again;… the key to open the door but not t… to start it.
once we were young at this machine. . . drinking
the German hotel was very strange… double doors to the rooms, very th… looked the park and the vasser ter… it was usually too late for breakf… would be everywhere changing sheet…
what’s bad about all this is watching people drinking coffee and waiting. I would
since my last name was Fuch, he sa… believe the school yard was tough:… powder down my neck, threw gravel… with rubber bands in class, and ou… me names, well, one name mainly, o…
A week later I was driving down Hollywood Boulevard with Lydia. A weekly entertainment newspaper published in California at that time had asked me to write an article on the life of the...
there are beasts in the salt shake… and airdromes in the coffeepot. my mother’s hand is in the bag dra… and from the backs of spoons come the cries of tiny tortured animals…