#1977 #AmericanWriters #LoveIsADogFromHell
Upon awakening I got up and used Joanna’s toothbrush, drank a couple of glasses of water, washed my hands and face and got back into bed. Joanna turned around and my mouth found hers. M...
liked D . H. Lawrence he could get so indignant he snapped and he ripped with wonderfully energetic sentenc… he could lay the word down
in the slow Mexican air I watched… and they cut off his ear, and his… no more terror than a rock. driving back the next day we stopp… and watched the golden red and blu…
places to hunt places to hide are getting harder to find, and pet canaries and goldfish too, did you… that?
in the men’s room at the track this boy of about 7 or 8 years old came out of a stall
got into my BMW and drove down to… pick up my American Express Gold… told the girl at the desk what I wanted. you’re Mr. Chinaski,” she
suppose like others have come through fire and sword, love gone wrong, head-on crashes, drunk at sea, and I have listened to the simple…
After 3 years I made “regular.” That meant holiday pay (subs didn’t get paid for holidays) and a 40 hour week with 2 days off. The Stone was also forced to assign me as relief man to 5 ...
the history of melancholia includes all of us. me, I writhe in dirty sheets while staring at blue walls and nothing.
We were eating meatballs and spaghetti. My problems were always discussed at dinner time. Dinner time was almost always an unhappy time. I didn’t answer my father’s question. “Henry, an...
“It’s the manager, Freddy. He has started whistling this song. He’s whistling it when I come in in the morning and he never stops, and he’s whistling it when I go home at night. It’s be...
the drifting of the mind. the slow loss, the leaking away. one’s demise is not very interesti… from my bed I watch 3 birds throug… one coal black, one dark brown, th…
if I suffer at this typewriter think how I’d feel among the lettuce-pickers of Salinas?
when I look back now at the abuse I took from her I feel shame that I was so innocent,
let me speak as a friend although the centuries hang between us and neither you nor I can see the moon. be careful less the onion blind th…