#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
But the next morning it was the sa… “That’s all, Chinaski. Nothing fo… It went on for a week. I sat ther… Then Bobby Hansen, one of the old… “I don’t care. I’m not kissing hi…
old Butch, they fixed him the girls don’t look like much anymore. when Big Sam moved out of the back
well, first Mae West died and then George Raft, and Eddie G. Robinson’s been gone long time,
in the Valkerie Mountains among the strutting peacocks I found a flower as large as my head
A couple of nights later Becker walked in. I guess my parents gave him my address or he located me through the college. I had my name and address listed with the employment division at ...
have we gone wrong again? we laugh less and less, become more sadly sane. all we want is the absence of others.
Long walks at night— that’s what good for the soul: peeking into windows watching tired housewives trying to fight off
they go on writing pumping out poems— young boys and college professors wives who drink wine all afternoon while their husbands work,
she died of alcoholism wrapped in a blanket on a deck chair on an ocean steamer.
Two nights later I went over to Tammie’s place on Rustic Court. I knocked. The lights weren’t on. It seemed empty. I looked in her mailbox. There were letters in there. I wrote a note, ...
am sitting on a tin chair outside… death, on stinking wings, wafts th… halls forevermore. remember the hospital stenches fro… was a boy and when I was a man and…
terror finally becomes almost bearable but never quite terror creeps like a cat crawls like a cat
the higher you climb the greater the pressure. those who manage to endure learn
We had a 3:30 pm flight out of Los Angeles that Saturday. At 2 pm I went up and knocked on Tammie’s door. She wasn’t there. I want back to my place and sat down. The phone rang. It was ...
I’m in bed. it’s morning and I hear: where are your socks? please get dressed!