#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
Lydia’s sister Angela came to town from Utah to see Lydia’s new house. Lydia had made a down payment on a little place and the monthly payments were very low. It was a very good buy. Th...
16 and one-half inch neck 68 years old lifts weights body like a young
these boys have got class they ought to make kings out of old men rolling cigarettes in rooms small enough
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, ...
I hear them outside: “does he always type this late?” “no, it’s very unusual.” “he shouldn’t type this
the lilies storm my brain by god by god like nazi storm troopers! do you think I’m going tizzy?
the history of melancholia includes all of us. me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and nothing.
call it th e green house effect or… but it just doesn’t rain like it used to. particularly remember the rains of… depression era.
Then some men came around and ripped out every other water– fountain. “Hey, look, what the hell are they doing?” I asked. I was in the 3rd class flat section. I walked over to another c...
watch you walking with your machin… ah, you’re too stupid to be cut li… you’re too stupid to let anything… the girls won’t use their knives o… they don’t want to
The first three or four days at Mears-Starbuck were identical. In fact, similarity was a very dependable thing at Mears-Starbuck. The caste system was an accepted fact. There wasn’t a s...
I began receiving letters from a girl in New York City. Her name was Mindy. She had run across a couple of my books, but the best thing about her letters was that she seldom mentioned w...
maybe I’ll win the Irish Sweepsta… maybe I’ll go nuts maybe Harcourt Brace will call or maybe unemployment insurance or rich lesbian at the top of a hill.
I feel gypped by dunces as if reality were the property of little men with luck and a headstart, and I sit in the cold
at the window I watch a man with a power mower the sounds of his doing race like flies and bees