#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
I blacked out after that. I guess I had consumed more whiskey than I thought. I don’t remember arriving at Nicole’s. I awakened in the morning with my back to somebody in a strange bed....
I go to pick her up. she’s on some errand. she always has errands many things to do. I have nothing to do.
my friend is worried about dying he lives in Frisco I live in L.A. he goes to the gym and works with the iron and hits
The ultra-violet ray machine clicked off. I had been treated on both sides. I took off the goggles and began to dress. Miss Ackerman walked in. “Not yet,” she said, “keep your clothes o...
Joyce found a job with the county, the county Police Department, of all things. I was living with a cop! But at least it was during the day, which gave me a little rest from those fondl...
I see old people on pensions in th… supermarkets and they are thin and… proud and they are dying they are starving on their feet an… nothing. long ago, among other lie…
at one stage in my life I met a man who claimed to have visited Pound at St. Elizabeths. then I met a woman who not only claimed to have visited
it was Philly and the bartender sa… what and I said, gimme a draft, J… got to get the nerves straight, I’… going to look for a job. you, he s… a job?
he walks up to my Volks after I have parked and rocks it back and forth grinning around his
the history of melancholia includes all of us. me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and nothing.
big black beard tells me that I don’t feel terror I look at him
this woman keeps phoning me even though I tell her I am livin… I love. I keep hearing noises in the envir… she phones,
One Sunday Jimmy talked me into going to the beach with him. He wanted to go swimming. I didn’t want to he seen wearing swimming trunks because my hack was covered with boils and scars....
I had been corresponding with a lady in San Francisco for several months. Her name was Liza Weston and she survived by giving dance lessons, including ballet, in her own studio. She was...
Frank liked airplanes. He lent me all his pulp magazines about World War 1. The best was Flying Aces. The dog-fights were great, the Spads and the Fokkers mixing it. I read all the stor...