#AmericanWriters
consistency is terrific: shark-mouth grubby interior with an almost perfect body, long blazing hair—
Information has been received in this office indicating that you were arrested by the Los Angeles Police Department on March 12, 1969, on a drunk charge. In this connection, your atten...
The rainy season began. Most of the money went for drink so my shoes had holes in the soles and my raincoat was torn and old. In any steady downpour I got quite wet, and I mean wet-down...
I went into the bends. I got drunker and stayed drunker than a shit skunk in Purgatory. I even had the butcher knife against my throat one night in the kitchen and then I thought, easy,...
I have a saying, “the tough ones a… back.” but Vera was kinder than most, and so I was surprised when she arrived that night
my first and only wife painted and she talked to me about it: it’s all so painful
Two mornings later, at 4 am, somebody beat on the door. I let Tammie in. She sat down and I opened a couple of beers. “I’ve got bad breath, I have these two bad teeth. You can’t kiss me...
she’s not for you, man, she’s not your type, she’s erased she’s been used she’s got all the wrong
The flies are angry bits of life; why are they so angry? it seems they want more, it seems almost as if they are angry
I was coming off an affair that ha… frankly, I was sliding down into a… really feeling shitty and low when I lucked into this lady with… covered with a jeweled canopy
One night I was coming around the corner after sneaking down to the cafeteria for a pack of smokes. And there was a face I knew. It was Tom Moto! The guy I had subbed with under The Sto...
old grey-haired waitresses in cafes at night have given it up, and as I walk down sidewalks of light and look into windows
crud, he said, hauling it out of the water, what is it? a Hollow-Back June Whale, I said… no, said a guy standing by us on t…
“you know,” she said, “you were at the bar so you didn’t see but I danced with this guy. we danced and we danced close.
Back in L.A., there was almost a week of peace. Then the phone rang. It was the owner of a Manhattan Beach nightclub, Marty Seavers. I had read there a couple of times before. The club ...