#Americans #XXCentury #1993 #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
shot off his left ear then his right, and then tore off his belt buckle with hot lead, and then
“I’ve made it,” she said, “I’ve c… through.” she had on new boots, pa… and a white sweater. “I know what… want now.” she was from Chicago an… had settled in L.A.’s Fairfax dis…
there are many single women in the… with one or two or three children and one wonders where the husbands have gone or where the lovers have gone
at their best, there is gentleness… some understanding and, at times,… courage but all in all it is a mass, a glo… have too much.
I began getting dizzy spells. I could feel them coming. The case would begin to whirl. The spells lasted about a minute. I couldn’t understand it. Each letter was getting heavier and he...
very tall girl lifts her nose at m… outside a supermarket as if I were a walking garbage can; and I had no desire for her, no more desire
I can remember starving in a small room in a strange city shades pulled down, listening to classical music I was young I was so young it hur…
Lydia liked parties. And Harry was a party-giver. So we were on our way to Harry Ascot’s. Harry was the editor of Retort, a little magazine. His wife wore long see-through dresses, show...
Fay was all right with the pregnancy. For an old gal, she was all right. We waited around at our place. Finally the time came. “It won’t be long,” she said. “I don’t want to get there t...
the legs are gone and the hopes—th… and I haven’t shaved in sixteen da… but the mailman still makes his ro… water still comes out of the fauce… myself with glazed and milky eyes…
At 3:30 a.m. my twelve hours were… I set the alarm so that I would b… “What happened, Hank? We thought… “I’m quitting.” “Quitting?” “Yes, you can’t blame a man for wa…
we fought for 17 days inside that… thrusting and counter-thrusting but finally she got away and I walked outside and spit
it’s strange when famous people di… whether they have fought the good… the bad one. it’s strange when famous people di… whether we like them or not
I didn’t do much the rest of the week. The Oaktree meet was on. I went to the track 2 or 3 times, broke even. I wrote a dirty story for a sex mag, wrote 10 or 12 poems, masturbated, and...
the rag. she sat there, glooming. I couldn’t do anything with her. it was raining. she got up and left.