#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
my mother, father and I walked to the market once a week for our government relief food: cans of beans, cans of
the weather is hot on the back of… which is down at Finkelstein’s who is gifted with 3 balls but no heart, but you’ve got to un… when the bull goes down
There was this place. It stretched over the sea, it was built over the sea. An old place, but with a touch of class. We got a room on the first floor. You could hear the ocean running d...
I was sitting in my shorts one afternoon a week later. There was a tender little knock on the door. “Just a moment,” I said. I put on a robe and opened the door. “We’re two girls from G...
I was always a natural slob I liked to lay upon the bed in undershirt (stained, of course) (and with cigarette holes)
in grievous deity my cat walks around he walks around and around with electric tail and
I was sitting with an anarchist from Beverly Hills, Ben Solvnag, who was writing my biography when I heard her footsteps on the court walk. I knew the sound—they were always fast and fr...
I kept the date in mind. It was never any problem creating a split with Lydia. I was naturally a loner, content just to live with a woman, eat with her, sleep with her, walk down the st...
Dee Dee had a place in the Hollywood Hills. Dee Dee shared the place with a friend, another lady executive, Bianca. Bianca took the top floor and Dee Dee the bottom. I rang the bell. It...
After English class one day Mrs. Curtis asked me to stay. She had great legs and a lisp and there was something about the legs and the lisp together that heated me up. She was about 32,...
It was about a week later around 7 a.m. I had lucked into another day off and after a double workout, I was up against Joyce’s ass, her asshole, sleeping, verily sleeping, and then the ...
if I suffer at this typewriter think how I’d feel among the lettuce-pickers of Salinas?
The ultra-violet ray machine clicked off. I had been treated on both sides. I took off the goggles and began to dress. Miss Ackerman walked in. “Not yet,” she said, “keep your clothes o...
the history of melancholia includes all of us. me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and nothing.
and the sun wields mercy but like a jet torch carried to hi… and the jets whip across its sight and rockets leap like toads, and the boys get out the maps