#AmericanWriters
the final curtain on one of the lo… musicals ever, some people claim t… seen it over one hundred times. I saw it on the tv news, that fina… flowers, cheers, tears, a thundero…
a symphony orchestra. there is a thunderstorm, they are playing a Wagner overture and the people leave their seats u… and run inside to the pavilion
I didn’t have any friends at school, didn’t want any. I felt better being alone. I sat on a bench and watched the others play and they looked foolish to me. During lunch one day I was a...
“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” We got into my car and she told me where she lived. We stopped for a couple of big steaks, vegetables, stuff for a salad, potatoes, b...
big sloppy wounded dog hit by a car and walking toward the curbing making enormous sounds
Vallejo writing about loneliness while starving to death; Van Gogh’s ear rejected by a whore;
I think of automobiles parked in a parking lot when I think of myself dead I think of frying pans when I think of myself dead
The next day I sat in the hall in my green tin chair, waiting to be called. Across from me sat a man who had something wrong with his nose. It was very red and very raw and very fat and...
I laugh sometimes when I think ab… say Céline at a typewriter or Dostoevsky... or Hamsun...
They are building a house half a block down and I sit up here with the shades down listening to the sounds,
I saw Sara every three or four days, at her place or at mine. We slept together but there was no sex. We came close but we never quite got to it. Drayer Baba’s precepts held strong. We ...
we are always asked to understand the other person’s viewpoint no matter how out—dated
if you can’t stand the heat, he sa… kitchen. you know who said that? Harry Truman. I’m not in the kitchen, I say, I’… oven.
often it is the only thing between you and impossibility. no drink,
the dead can sleep they don’t get up and rage they don’t have a wife. her white face like a flower in a closed