#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
drinking 15 dollar champagne— Cordon Rouge—with the hookers. one is named Georgia and she doesn’t like pantyhose: I keep helping her pull up
Two mornings later, at 4 am, somebody beat on the door. I let Tammie in. She sat down and I opened a couple of beers. “I’ve got bad breath, I have these two bad teeth. You can’t kiss me...
That evening the phone rang. It was Mercedes. I had met her after giving a poetry reading at Venice Beach. She was about 28, fair body, pretty good legs, a blonde about 5~feet-5, a blue...
they say that nothing is wasted: either that or it all is.
the rag. she sat there, glooming. I couldn’t do anything with her. it was raining. she got up and left.
washed—up, on shore, the old yello… out again I write from the bed as I did last year.
I didn’t have any friends at school, didn’t want any. I felt better being alone. I sat on a bench and watched the others play and they looked foolish to me. During lunch one day I was a...
I was a bum in San Francisco but… to go to a symphony concert along… and the music was good but somethi… audience was not and something about the orchestra
like in a chair the color of the s… as you listen to lazy piano music and the aircraft overhead are not at war. where the last drink is as good as
I drank for the next week. I drank night and day and wrote 25 or 30 mournful poems about lost love. It was Friday night when the phone rang. It was Mercedes. “I got married,” she said, ...
lonely as a dry and used orchard spread over the earth for use and surrender. shot down like an ex—pug selling dailies on the corner.
When I awakened it was 1:30 pm. I took a bath, got dressed, checked the mail. A letter from a young man in Glendale. "Dear Mr. Chinaski: I am a young writer and I think that I am a good...
Lydia returned and found a nice apartment in the Burbank area. She seemed to care a lot more for me than before we parted. “My husband had this big cock and that’s all he had. He had no...
naked in that bright light the four horse falls and throws a 112-pound boy into the hooves
this poet he’d been drinking 2 or 3 days and he walked out on the stage and looked at that audience and he just knew he was going to do it. there was a grand piano on stage and he walke...