#Americans #XXCentury #1993 #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
they go on writing pumping out poems— young boys and college professors wives who drink wine all afternoon while their husbands work,
drive to the beach at night in the winter and sit and look at the burned-dow… wonder why they just let it sit th… in the water.
Office of Postmaster—United States Post Office—January 1, 1970 The attention of all employees is directed to the Code of Ethics for postal employees as set forth in Part 742 of the Post...
the mockingbird had been following… all summer mocking mocking mocking teasing and cocksure; the cat crawled under rockers on p…
the phone rang at 1:30 a.m. and it was a man from Denver: “Chinaski, you got a following in Denver...” “yeah?”
I don’t beat the walls with my fis… I just sit but it rushes in a tide of it. the woman in the court behind me h…
The funeral was to be at 10:30 a.m. but it was already hot. I had on a cheap black suit, bought and fitted in a rush. It was my first new suit in years. I had located the son. We drove ...
each man must realize that it can all disappear very quickly: the cat, the woman, the job, the front tire,
these boys have got class they ought to make kings out of old men rolling cigarettes in rooms small enough
I finally, got a day off, and you know what I did? I got up early before Joyce got back in and I went down to the market to do a little shopping, and maybe I was crazy. I walked through...
you just don’t know how to do it, you know that, and you can’t do a lot of other useful things either. it’s the fault of the
dame some dogs who sleep at night must dream of bones and I remember your bones in flesh
sick with the flu drinking beer my radio on loud enough to overcome the sounds of the
We are like roses that have never… bloom when we should have bloomed… it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting
I took Tanya to the airport the next afternoon. We had a drink in the same bar. The high-yellow wasn’t around; all that leg was with somebody else. “No. You love sex and there’s nothing...
