#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
Nothing matters but flopping on a mattress with cheap dreams and a beer as the leaves die and the horses d… and the landladies stare in the ha…
“you know,” she said, “you were at the bar so you didn’t see but I danced with this guy. we danced and we danced close.
the old fart, he used his literary… to reel them in one at a time, each younger than the last. he liked to meet them for luncheon… wine
he lives in a house with a swimmin… and says the job is killing him. he is 27. I am 44. I can’t seem t… get rid of
yesterday drunken Alice gave me a jar of fig jam and today she whistles
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
the dream of a man is a whore with a gold tooth and a garter belt, perfumed with false eyebrows
each man must realize that it can all disappear very quickly: the cat, the woman, the job, the front tire,
washed—up, on shore, the old yello… out again I write from the bed as I did last year.
I was always a natural slob I liked to lay upon the bed in undershirt (stained, of course) (and with cigarette holes)
very t all girl lifts her nose at… outside a supermarket as if I were a walking garbage can; and I had no desire for her, no more desire
Meanwhile, there was still Joyce, and her geraniums, and a couple of million if I could hang on. Joyce and the flies and the geraniums. I worked the night shift, 12 hours, and she pawed...
I suppose it’s raining in some Sp… while I’m feeling bad like this; I’d like to think so now.
The next thing I knew, I had a young girl from Texas on my lap. I won’t go into details of how I met her. Anyway, there it was. She was 23. I was 36. She had long blonde hair and was go...
I keep thinking it will be outside now waiting for me blue front bumper twisted