#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
I watched the board and the 6 drop… after a first flash of 18 from a m… of 12...two minutes to post and a… kept jamming against my back, but… I bet 20 to win and walked out to…
The war was going very well in Europe, for Hitler. Most of the students weren’t very vocal on the matter. But the instructors were, they were almost all left-wing and anti-German. There...
I am in this low—slung sports car painted a deep, rich yellow driving under an Italian sun. I have a British accent. I’m wearing dark shades
as I go to the escalator young fellow and a lovely young gi… are ahead of me. her pants, her blouse are skintigh… as we ascend
my mother, father and I walked to the market once a week for our government relief food: cans of beans, cans of
here I am in the ground my mouth open and
I was always a natural slob I liked to lay upon the bed in undershirt (stained, of course) (and with cigarette holes)
But, there were still bits of action. One guy was caught on the same stairway that I had been trapped on. He was caught there with his head under some girl’s skirt. Then one of the girl...
The next night as they moved the group from the main build– ing to the training building, I stopped to talk to Gus the old newsboy. Gus had once been 3rd-ranked welterweight contender b...
it sits outside my window now like and old woman going to market… it sits and watches me, it sweats nevously through wire and fog and dog—bark
the canaries were there, and the l… and the old woman with warts; and I was there, a child and I touched the piano keys as they talked—
when I look back now at the abuse I took from her I feel shame that I was so innocent,
Lydia met me at the airport. She was horny as usual. “Jesus Christ,” she said. “I’m hot! I play with myself but it doesn’t do any good.” “Lydia, my leg is still in terrible shape. I jus...
unaccountably we are alone forever alone and it was meant to be that way, was never meant
she was hot, she was so hot I didn’t want anybody else to have… and if I didn’t get home on time she’d be gone, and I couldn’t bear… I’d go mad. . .