#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
she’s not for you, man, she’s not your type, she’s erased she’s been used she’s got all the wrong
They are building a house half a block down and I sit up here with the shades down listening to the sounds,
We continued drinking. Cecelia had just one more and stopped. “I want to go out and look at the moon and stars,” she said. “It’s so beautiful out!” She went outside by the swimming pool...
he talked about Steinbeck and Tho… wrote like a cross between the two… and I lived in a hotel on Figuero… close to the bars and he lived further uptown in a s…
the goldfish sing all night with g… and the whores go down with the st… the whores go down with the stars I’m sorry, sir, we close at 4:30, besides yr mother’s neck is dirty,
drinking German beer and trying to come up with the immortal poem at 5 p.m. in the afternoon. but, ah, I’ve told the
listen, man, don’t tell me about t… sent, we didn’t receive them, we are very careful with manuscrip… we bake them burn them
she reads to me from the New York… which I don’t buy, don’t know how they get in here, but it’s something about the Mafia one of the heads of the Mafia
then there was the time in New Orleans I was living with a fat woman, Marie, in the French Quarter and I got very sick.
The flies are angry bits of life; why are they so angry? it seems they want more, it seems almost as if they are angry
I saw her when I was in the left… going east on Sunset. she was sitting with her legs crossed reading a paperback.
“I’ve made it,” she said, “I’ve c… through.” she had on new boots, pa… and a white sweater. “I know what… want now.” she was from Chicago an… had settled in L.A.’s Fairfax dis…
I never wear dark shades but this red head went to get a prescription filled on Hollywood… and she kept haggling and working… me, snapping and snarling.
There was a gang of us down there. 150 or 200. There were tedious papers to fill out. Then we all stood up and faced the flag. The guy who swore us in was the same guy who had sworn me ...
the motion of the human heart: strangled over Missouri; sheathed in hot wax in Boston; burned like a potato in Norfolk; lost in the Allegheny Mountains;