#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
I had begun to dislike my father. He was always angry about something. Wherever we went he got into arguments with people. But he didn’t appear to frighten most people; they often just ...
the lilies storm my brain by god by god like nazi storm troopers! do you think I’m going tizzy?
of course, I may die in the next t… and I’m ready for that but what I’m really worried about… that my editor—publisher might ret… even though he is ten years younge…
you consult psychiatrists and phil… when things aren’t going well and whores when they are. the whores are there for young boy… men; to the young boys they say,
the old fart, he used his literary… to reel them in one at a time, each younger than the last. he liked to meet them for luncheon… wine
He hinted at times that I was a bastard and I told him to listen to Brahms, and I told him to learn to paint and drink and not be dominated by women and dollars but he screamed at me, F...
I had been corresponding with a lady in San Francisco for several months. Her name was Liza Weston and she survived by giving dance lessons, including ballet, in her own studio. She was...
majestic, majic infinite my little girl is sun on the carpet—
my first and only wife painted and she talked to me about it: it’s all so painful
first of all, I had a hard time, a… locating the parking lot for the b… wasn’t off the main boulevard wher… the cars all driven by merciless k… were doing 55 mph in a 25 mph zone…
blue fish, the blue night, a blue… everything is blue. and my cats are blue: blue fur, bl… blue whiskers, blue eyes. my bed lamp shines
a house with 7 or 8 people living in it getting up the rent. there’s a stereo never used and a set of bongos
sway with me, everything sad— madmen in stone houses without doors, lepers steaming love and song frogs trying to figure
I phoned Joyce. “How’s it working with Purple Sti… “What did he do when you told him… “We were sitting across from each… “What happened?”
Lydia liked parties. And Harry was a party-giver. So we were on our way to Harry Ascot’s. Harry was the editor of Retort, a little magazine. His wife wore long see-through dresses, show...