#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
Just give me a little atomic bomb Not too mutch just a little Enough to kill a horse in the stre… But there aren’t any horses in the… Enough to knock the flowers from a…
murder the roaches spit out paper clips and the helicopter circles and cir… smelling for blood
more wasted days, gored days, evaporated days. more squandered days, days pissed away,
I went into the bends. I got drunker and stayed drunker than a shit skunk in Purgatory. I even had the butcher knife against my throat one night in the kitchen and then I thought, easy,...
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.
I have been looking at the same lampshade for 5 years and it has gathered
like in a chair the color of the s… as you listen to lazy piano music and the aircraft overhead are not at war. where the last drink is as good as
I’m soft. I dream too. I let myself dream. I dream of being famous. I dream of walking the streets of London and
my first and only wife painted and she talked to me about it: it’s all so painful
my goldfish stares with watery eye… into the hemisphere of my sorrow; upon the thinnest of threads we hang together, hang hang hang
I got a letter in the mail. It was addressed from Hollywood. Dear Chinaski: I’ve just read almost all your books. I work as a typist in a place on Cherokee Ave. I’ve hung your picture i...
I laugh sometimes when I think ab… say Céline at a typewriter or Dostoevsky... or Hamsun...
It was noon the next day when the phone rang. It was Lydia again. I heard a long insane wail like a wolverine shot in the arctic snow and left to bleed and die alone. . . . I slept most...
love, he said, gas kiss me off kiss my lips kiss my hair my fingers
My father had two brothers. The younger was named Ben and the older was named John. Both were alcoholics and ne’er-do-wells. My parents often spoke of them. “Neither of them amount to a...