#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
Lydia phoned me in the morning. “Whenever you get drunk,” she said, “I’m going out dancing. I went to the Red Umbrella last night and I asked men to dance with me. A woman has a right t...
after the slaughter house there was a bar around the corner and I sat in there and watched the sun go down through the window,
when I was in grammar school my parents were poor and in my lunch bag there was only a peanut butter sandwich.
each man must realize that it can all disappear very quickly: the cat, the woman, the job, the front tire,
more wasted days, gored days, evaporated days. more squandered days, days pissed away,
Well, I took the scheme sheet and I related everything to sex and age. This guy lived in this house with 3 women. He belt-whipped one (her name was the name of the street and her age th...
places to hunt places to hide are getting harder to find, and pet canaries and goldfish too, did you… that?
Lydia’s sister Angela came to town from Utah to see Lydia’s new house. Lydia had made a down payment on a little place and the monthly payments were very low. It was a very good buy. Th...
I had agreed to give a reading up north. It was the afternoon before the reading and I was sitting in an apartment at the Holiday Inn drinking beer with Joe Washington, the promoter, an...
the bulls are grand as the side of… and although they kill them for th… it is the bull that burns the fire… and although there are cowardly bu… there are cowardly matadors and co…
sun-stroked women without men on a Santa Monica Monday; the men are working or in jail or insane;
the drifting of the mind. the slow loss, the leaking away. one’s demise is not very interesti… from my bed I watch 3 birds throug… one coal black, one dark brown, th…
John F. Kennedy flower knocks upo… shot through the neck; the gladiolas gather by the dozens… India dripping into Ceylon;
After nine or ten hours people began getting sleepy and falling into their cases, catching themselves just in time. We were working the zoned mail. If a letter read zone 28 you stuck it...
Christmas eve, alone, in a motel room down the coast near the Pacific— hear it?