#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
this one always arrives at the wrong time a basically good sort I suppose an honest man
the history of melancholia includes all of us. me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and nothing.
They are building a house half a block down and I sit up here with the shades down listening to the sounds,
the critics now have me drinking champagne and driving a BMW and also married to a socialite from
these things that we support most… have nothing to do with up, and we do with them out of boredom or fear or money or cracked intelligence;
shot off his left ear then his right, and then tore off his belt buckle with hot lead, and then
here I am in the ground my mouth open and
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...
we have everything and we have not… and some men do it in churches and some men do it by tearing butt… in half and some men do it in Palm Spring…
death wants more death, and its we… I remember my father’s garage, how… I would brush the corpses of flies from the windows they thought were… their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies
and the subnormal. all through grammar school junior high high school junior college
this man used to be an interesting writer, he was able to say brisk and refreshing things. at the time
I can’t have it and you can’t have it and we won’t get it so don’t bet on it
I read that he lost a suitcase ful… train and that they never were rec… I can’t match the agony of this but the other night I wrote a 3—pa… upon this computer
I can see myself now after all these suicide days and n… being wheeled out of one of those… (of course, this is only if I get… by a subnormal and bored nurse