#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
being the German kid in the 20’s i… was difficult. there was much anti-German feeling… a carry-over from World War 1. gangs of kids chased me through th…
Christmas eve, alone, in a motel room down the coast near the Pacific— hear it?
I used to hold my social security… up in the air, he told me, but I was so small they couldn’t see it,
half-past nowhere alone in the crumbling tower of myself stumbling in this the
So I was surprised when the phone rang a couple of nights later and it was Cassie. “What are you doing, Hank?” She gave me the address, it was either Westwood or West L. A. “I have plen...
red face Texas and age he’s at an L.A. racetrack
too much too little too fat too thin or nobody.
have we gone wrong again? we laugh less and less, become more sadly sane. all we want is the absence of others.
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.
Jack London drinking his life awa… writing of strange and heroic men. Eugene O’Neill drinking himself o… while writing his dark and poetic works.
Markov claims I am trying to stab his soul but I’d prefer his wife. put my feet on the coffee table and he says,
I kept getting letters from a lady who lived only a mile or so away. She signed them Nicole. She said she had read some of my books and liked them. I answered one of her letters and she...
I didn’t contest the divorce, didn’t go to court. Joyce gave me the car. She didn’t drive. All I had lost was 3 or 4 million. But I still had the post office. “I saw you with that bitch...
the branches break, the birds fall… the whores stand straight, the bombs stack, evening, morning, night, peanutbutter,
bet on #6, I try red, I stare at… wonder what Chekhov would do, and… blue plates sit eating the carnage… and look very much like Russians a… my left tit and try to smile like…