#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
Meanwhile, there was still Joyce, and her geraniums, and a couple of million if I could hang on. Joyce and the flies and the geraniums. I worked the night shift, 12 hours, and she pawed...
I began receiving letters from a girl in New York City. Her name was Mindy. She had run across a couple of my books, but the best thing about her letters was that she seldom mentioned w...
keep remembering the horses under the moon keep remembering feeding the horse… sugar white oblongs of sugar
is the slim tall ear-ringed bedroom damsel dressed in a long gown
was much easier to be a genius in… only 3 or 4 literary magazines and… or 5 times you could end up in Ger… you could possibly meet Picasso fo… maybe only Miró.
“Be quiet. Don’t wake Dancy. She’s my daughter. She’s 6 years I had a 6-pack of beer. Tammie put it in the refrigerator and came out with two bottles. “My daughter mustn’t see anything....
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...
They had me in the counselor’s office in one of the back rooms of the second floor. “Let me see how you look, Chinaski.” He looked at me. “All right, Mr. Chinaski, we’d like to know whe...
I read that he lost a suitcase ful… train and that they never were rec… I can’t match the agony of this but the other night I wrote a 3—pa… upon this computer
he’s a runt he snarls and scratches chases cars groans in his sleep and has a perfect star above each…
the old fart, he used his literary… to reel them in one at a time, each younger than the last. he liked to meet them for luncheon… wine
I get too many phone calls. they seek the creature out. they shouldn’t.
16 and one-half inch neck 68 years old lifts weights body like a young
this is important enough: to get your feelings down, it is better than shaving or cooking beans with garlic. it is the little we can do
we are gathered here now to bury her in this poem. she did not marry an unemployed wi… beat her every