#Americans #XXCentury #1993 #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
out of the arm of one love and into the arms of another I have been saved from dying on th… by a lady who smokes pot writes songs and stories
there are worse things than being alone but it often takes decades to realize this and most often
the telephone has not been kind of… of late there have been more and m… from people who want to come over… from people who are depressed from people who are lonely
I get many phonecalls now. They are all alike. “are you Charles Bukowski, the writer?” “yes,” I tell them.
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
It was 12 hours a night, plus supervisors, plus clerks, plus the fact that you could hardly breathe in that pack of flesh, plus stale baked food in the “non-profit” cafeteria. Plus the ...
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...
I didn’t have any friends at school, didn’t want any. I felt better being alone. I sat on a bench and watched the others play and they looked foolish to me. During lunch one day I was a...
we fought for 17 days inside that… thrusting and counter-thrusting but finally she got away and I walked outside and spit
this time has finished me. I feel like the German troops whipped by snow and the communists walking bent with newspapers stuffed into
know. I know. they are limited, have different needs and concerns. but I watch and learn from them.
I think of automobiles parked in a parking lot when I think of myself dead I think of frying pans when I think of myself dead
consistency is terrific: shark-mouth grubby interior with an almost perfect body, long blazing hair—
majestic, magic infinite my little girl is sun on the carpet—
welcome to my wormy hell. the music grinds off-key. fish eyes watch from the wall. this is where the last happy shot… fired.