#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
I’m out of matches. the springs in my couch are broken. they stole my footlocker. they stole my oil painting of
I saw Sara every three or four days, at her place or at mine. We slept together but there was no sex. We came close but we never quite got to it. Drayer Baba’s precepts held strong. We ...
stuck in the rain on the freeway,… these are the lucky ones, these ar… dutifully employed, most with thei… as possible as they try not to thi… this is our new civilization: as m…
this man sometimes forgets who he is. sometimes he thinks he’s the Pope. other times he thinks he’s a
Bobby and Valerie came by and I introduced everybody around. “Valerie and I are going to take a vacation and rent rooms by the seashore in Manhattan Beach,” said Bobby. “Why don’t you g...
drive to the beach at night in the winter and sit and look at the burned-dow… wonder why they just let it sit th… in the water.
there he is: not too many hangovers not too many fights with women not too many flat tires never a thought of suicide
I was casing next to G.G. early one morning. That’s what they called him: G.G. His actual name was George Greene. But for years he was simply called G.G. and after a while he looked lik...
R.O.T.C. (Reserve Officer Training Corps) was for the misfits. Like I said, it was either that or gym. I would have taken gym but I didn’t want people to sec the boils on my back. There...
I was hungover again, another heat spell was on—a week of 100 degree days. The drinking went on each night, and in the early mornings and days there was The Stone and the impossibility ...
this guy he’s got a crazy eye and he’s brown a dark brown from the sun the Hollywood and Western sun
ask the sidewalk painters of Paris ask the sunlight on a sleeping dog ask the 3 pigs ask the paperboy ask the music of Donizetti
I took Tanya to the airport the next afternoon. We had a drink in the same bar. The high-yellow wasn’t around; all that leg was with somebody else. “No. You love sex and there’s nothing...
John F. Kennedy flower knocks upo… shot through the neck; the gladiolas gather by the dozens… India dripping into Ceylon;
the best often die by their own ha… just to get away, and those left behind can never quite understand why anybody