#AmericanWriters
I took Tanya to Santa Anita. The current sensation was a 16 year old jockey still riding with his 5 pound bug advantage. He was from the east and was riding at Santa Anita for the first...
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,
once bought a toy rabbit at a department store and now he sits and ponders me with pink sheer eyes: He wants golf balls and glass
the droll noon where squadrons of worms creep up like stripteasers to be raped by blackbirds. I go outside
got into my BMW and drove down to… pick up my American Express Gold… told the girl at the desk what I wanted. you’re Mr. Chinaski,” she
That summer, July 1934, they gunned down John Dillinger outside the movie house in Chicago. He never had a chance. The Lady in Red had fingered him. More than a year earlier the banks h...
cimen altinda gecen 225 gunden son… kanini emip bitireli epey oldu, ar… bu isler boyle mi oluyor? bu odada hala ask saatlerinin golg… birakip gittiginde asagi yukari he…
I’m soft. I dream too. I let myself dream. I dream of being famous. I dream of walking the streets of London and
rose red sunlight; take it apart in the garage like a puzzle:
she writes: you’ll be moaning and groaning in your poems about how I fucked those 2 guys last week.
probably from the belly button or… bed, or maybe from the mouth of th… the car crash on the avenue that l… scattered on the grass. she comes from love gone wrong und…
One morning a few days later I entered Lydia’s courtyard as she was walking in from the alley. She had been over to see her friend Tina who lived in an apartment house on the corner. Sh...
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,...
Our man was there to meet us, Gary Benson. He also wrote poetry and drove a cab. He was very fat but at least he didn’t look like a poet, he didn’t look North Beach or East Village or l...
live alone in a small room and read the newspapers and sleep alone in the dark dreaming of crowds.