#Americans #XXCentury #1993 #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
In bed I had something in front o… “Sorry, baby,” I said. Then I ro… Then something awakened me. It wa… “Go, baby, go!” I told her. I arched my back now and then. Sh…
listening to Wagner as outside in the dark the wind bl… trees wave and shake lights go off and on the walls creak and the… bed...
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?
They had this thing called Training Class, and so for 30 minutes each night, anyhow, we didn’t have to stick mail. A big Italiano got up on the lecture platform to tell us where it was....
looking out the window smoking rolled cigarettes drinking Sanka and watching the workers come on in
drinking German beer and trying to come up with the immortal poem at 5 p.m. in the afternoon. but, ah, I’ve told the
I’m not going to die easy; I’ve sat on your suicide beds in some of the worst holes in America,
if you’re going to try, go all the way. otherwise, don’t even start. if you’re going to try, go all the way.
Bruckner wasn’t bad even though he got down on his knees and proclaimed Wagner the master.
I always wanted to ball Henry Miller, she said, but by the time I got there it was too late. damn it, I said, you girls
New Year’s Eve was another bad night for me to get through. My parents had always delighted in New Year’s Eve, listening to it approach on the radio, city by city, until it arrived in L...
My mother went to her low-paying job each morning and my father, who didn’t have a job, left each morning too. Although most of the neighbors were unemployed he didn’t want them to thin...
The track had moved down the coast a hundred miles or so. I kept paying the rent on my apartment in town, got in my car and drove down. Once or twice a week I would drive back to the ap...
Back at Chelsey High it was the same. One group of seniors had graduated but they were replaced by another group of seniors with sports cars and expensive clothes. I was never confronte...
if I suffer at this typewriter think how I’d feel among the lettuce— pickers of Salinas?