#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
in the earliest possible day in the blue-headed noon I will telegraph you a boney hand decorated with
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...
We came in low over Kansas City, the pilot said the temperature was 20 degrees, and there I was in my thin California sports coat and shirt, lightweight pants, summer stockings, and hol...
Back in L.A., there was almost a week of peace. Then the phone rang. It was the owner of a Manhattan Beach nightclub, Marty Seavers. I had read there a couple of times before. The club ...
as the orchid dies and the grass goes insane, let’s have one for the los… met an old man and a tired whore
very tall girl lifts her nose at m… outside a supermarket as if I were a walking garbage can; and I had no desire for her, no more desire
I had to take a shit but instead I went into this shop to have a key made. the woman was dressed
A couple of nights later Becker walked in. I guess my parents gave him my address or he located me through the college. I had my name and address listed with the employment division at ...
she’s from Texas and weighs 103 pounds and stands before the mirror combing oceans of reddish hair
The riots ended, the baby calmed down, and I found ways to avoid Janko. But the dizzy spells persisted. The doctor wrote me a standing order for the green-white librium capsules and the...
know. I know. they are limited, have different needs and concerns. but I watch and learn from them.
he used to sell papers in front: Get your winners! Get rich on a d… and about the 3rd or 4th race you’d see him rolling in on his ro… with roller skates underneath.
There are sketches on the walls of… and outside a large green bus swer… insanity sprung from a waving line… says the radio, and Jane Austin,… “I am going to do her portrait on…
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
she wrote me a letter from a small room near the Seine. she said she was going to dancing class, she got up, she said at 5 o’clock in the morning