#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
they called Céline a Nazi they called Pound a fascist they called Hamsun a Nazi and a f… they put Dostoevsky in front of a… squad
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.
man, he said, sitting on the steps your car sure needs a wash and wax… I can do it for you for 5 bucks, I got the wax, I got the rags, I… I need.
Making love in the sun, in the mor… in a hotel room above the alley where poor men poke for bottles; making love in the sun
the droll noon where squadrons of worms creep up like stripteasers to be raped by blackbirds. I go outside
I found a room on Temple Street in the Filipino district. It was $3.50 a week, upstairs on the second floor. I paid the landlady—a middle-aged blond—a week’s rent. The toilet and tub we...
I’m out of matches. the springs in my couch are broken. they stole my footlocker. they stole my oil painting of
he comes out at 7:30 a.m. every da… with 3 peanut butter sandwiches, a… there’s one can of beer which he floats in the baitbucket. he fishes for hours with a small t…
the telephone has not been kind of… of late there have been more and m… from people who want to come over… from people who are depressed from people who are lonely
this guy he’s got a crazy eye and he’s brown a dark brown from the sun the Hollywood and Western sun
Times were still hard. Nobody was any more surprised than I when Mears– Starbuck phoned and asked me to report to work the next Monday. I had gone all around town putting in dozens of a...
I suppose so. I was living in an attic in Phila… it became very hot in the summer a… bars. I didn’t have any money and… I put a small ad in the paper and…
I was 50 years old and hadn’t been to bed with a woman for four years. I had no women friends. I looked at them as I passed them on the streets or wherever I saw them, but I looked at t...
there was a frozen tree that I wan… but the shells came down and in Vegas looking across at a g… at 3:30 in the morning, I died without nails, without a co…
take a writer away from his typewr… and all you have left is the sickness which started him