#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
washed—up, on shore, the old yello… out again I write from the bed as I did last year.
When I awakened it was 1:30 pm. I took a bath, got dressed, checked the mail. A letter from a young man in Glendale. "Dear Mr. Chinaski: I am a young writer and I think that I am a good...
terrible arguments. and, at last, lying peacefully on her large bed which is spread in red with cool patterns o…
in the a fternoon they lean against one another and you can see how much they like the sun.
the balance is preserved by the sn… the Santa Monica cliffs; the luck is in walking down Wester… and having the girls in a massage parlor holler at you, “Hello, Swe…
old grey-haired waitresses in cafes at night have given it up, and as I walk down sidewalks of light and look into windows
Some say we should keep personal r… poem, stay abstract, and there is some r… but jezus; twelve poems gone and I don’t keep…
too much too little too fat too thin or nobody.
our marriage book, it says. I look through it. they lasted ten years. they were young once.
a great white light dawns across t… continent as we fawn over our failed traditi… often kill to preserve them or sometimes kill just to kill.
they don’t make it the beautiful die in flame— suicide pills, rat poison, rope, w… ever... they rip their arms off,
the virus holds the concepts give way like rotten shoelaces toothache and bacon dance on the lawn
the blazing shark wants my balls as I walk through the meat section looking for salami and cheese purple housewives
he comes out at 7:30 a.m. every da… with 3 peanut butter sandwiches, a… there’s one can of beer which he floats in the baitbucket. he fishes for hours with a small t…
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...