#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
my friend William is a fortunate m… he lacks the imagination to suffer he kept his first job his first wife can drive a car 50,000 miles
the Egyptians loved the cat were often entombed with it instead of with the women and never with the dog but now
I’m not going to die easy; I’ve sat on your suicide beds in some of the worst holes in America,
monkey feet small and blue walking toward you as the back of a building falls of… and an airplane chews the white sk…
At 3:30 a.m. my twelve hours were… I set the alarm so that I would b… “What happened, Hank? We thought… “I’m quitting.” “Quitting?” “Yes, you can’t blame a man for wa…
My father always ran the neighborhood kids away from our house. I was told not to play with them but I walked down the street and watched them anyhow. “Hey, Heinie!” they yelled, “Why d...
So gramps wrote Joyce a big check and there we were. We rented a little house up on a hill, and then Joyce got this stupid moralistic thing. “We both ought to get jobs,” Joyce said, “to...
I suppose like any other boy I had one best friend in the neigh… his name was Eugene and he was big… than I was and one year older. Eugene used to whip me pretty good…
neither does this mean the dead are at the door begging bread before
Jack London drinking his life awa… writing of strange and heroic men. Eugene O’Neill drinking himself o… while writing his dark and poetic works.
Back in L.A., there was almost a week of peace. Then the phone rang. It was the owner of a Manhattan Beach nightclub, Marty Seavers. I had read there a couple of times before. The club ...
in the earliest possible day in the blue-headed noon I will telegraph you a boney hand decorated with
shot off his left ear then his right, and then tore off his belt buckle with hot lead, and then
old Butch, they fixed him the girls don’t look like much anymore. when Big Sam moved out of the back
if I suffer at this typewriter think how I’d feel among the lettuce— pickers of Salinas?