#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
murder the roaches spit out paper clips and the helicopter circles and cir… smelling for blood
Times were still hard. Nobody was any more surprised than I when Mears– Starbuck phoned and asked me to report to work the next Monday. I had gone all around town putting in dozens of a...
The phone rang the next morning. Lydia had gone back to her place. It was Bobby, the kid who lived in the next block and worked in the porno bookstore. “Mindy’s down here. She wants you...
I cross the room to the last wall the last window the last pink sun with its arms around the world
The next day Katherine phoned me. She said she had the tickets and would be landing at L.A. International Friday at 2:30 pm. “Katherine,” I said, “there’s something I’ve got to tell you...
Graduation Day. We filed in with our caps and gowns to “Pomp and Circumstance.” I suppose that in our three years we must have learned something. Our ability to spell had probably impro...
no way back to Barcelona. the green soldiers have invaded th… madmen rule Spain and during a heat wave in 1952 I b… no way back to the Rock of Gibral…
all the women all their kisses the different ways they love and talk and need. their ears they all have
the Mexican dancer shook her fans… me and her ass at me, I didn’t ask her to and my woman got mad and ran out of th… it began raining and you could hea…
this time has finished me. I feel like the German troops whipped by snow and the communists walking bent with newspapers stuffed into
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...
with an Apple Macintosh you can’t run Radio Shack program… in its disc drive. nor can a Commodore 64 drive read a file
this fear of being what they are: dead. at least they are not out on the s… are careful to stay indoors, those pasty mad who sit alone before the…
she reads to me from the New York… which I don’t buy, don’t know how they get in here, but it’s something about the Mafia one of the heads of the Mafia
On Thursday night Bobby phoned again. “Hey, man, what are you doing?” “Oh, come on, man, I’ll just stay for a few beers. . . .” “You treat him mean. He gets lonely when his wife is at w...