#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
know. I know. they are limited, have different needs and concerns. but I watch and learn from them.
at the track today, Father’s Day, each paid admission was entitled to a wallet and each contained a
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
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...
Jane, who has been dead for 31 yea… never could have imagined that I would write a scre… days together and
unaccountably we are alone forever alone and it was meant to be that way, was never meant
he’s a runt he snarls and scratches chases cars groans in his sleep and has a perfect star above each…
blue fish, the blue night, a blue… everything is blue. and my cats are blue: blue fur, bl… blue whiskers, blue eyes. my bed lamp shines
he was 65, his wife was 66, had Alzheimer’s disease. he had cancer of the mouth. there were
the dead dogs of nowhere bark as you approach another traffic accident. cars one standing on its
here they come these guys grey truck radio playing they are in a hurry
“You ought to try to be like Abe Mortenson,” said my mother, “he gets straight A’s. Why can’t you ever get any A’s?” “Henry is dead on his ass,” said my father. “Sometimes I can’t belie...
The track had moved down the coast a hundred miles or so. I kept paying the rent on my apartment in town, got in my car and drove down. Once or twice a week I would drive back to the ap...
Shirley came to town with a broken… and met the Chicano who smoked long slim cigars and they got a place together on Beacon street
Every route had its traps and only the regular carriers knew of them. Each day it was another god damned thing, and you were always ready for a rape, murder, dogs, or insanity of some s...