#Americans #XXCentury #1993 #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
they called Céline a Nazi they called Pound a fascist they called Hamsun a Nazi and a f… they put Dostoevsky in front of a… squad
the old fart, he used his literary… to reel them in one at a time, each younger than the last. he liked to meet them for luncheon… wine
he has on blue jeans and tennis sh… and walks with two young girls about his age. every now and then he leaps into the air and
Later in the hospital they were dabbing at my knees with pieces of cotton that had been soaked in something. It burned. My elbows burned too. The doctor was bending over me with a nurse...
But the next morning it was the sa… “That’s all, Chinaski. Nothing fo… It went on for a week. I sat ther… Then Bobby Hansen, one of the old… “I don’t care. I’m not kissing hi…
I got back, made love to Lydia several times, got in a fight with her, and left L. A. International late one morning to give a reading in Arkansas. I was lucky enough to have a seat by ...
there are beasts in the salt shake… and airdromes in the coffeepot. my mother’s hand is in the bag dra… and from the backs of spoons come the cries of tiny tortured animals…
Then some men came around and ripped out every other water– fountain. “Hey, look, what the hell are they doing?” I asked. I was in the 3rd class flat section. I walked over to another c...
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...
stew at noon, my dear; and look: the ants, the sawdust, the mica plants, the shadows of banks like bad jokes; do you think we’ll hear
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...
what is it about lobsters and crab… those white-pink shells that always make me hungry just looking at them there in the butcher’s display case
love, he said, gas kiss me off kiss my lips kiss my hair my fingers
I sit here on the 2nd floor hunched over in yellow pajamas still pretending to be a writer.
I awaken about noon and go out to… in my old torn bathrobe. I’m hung over hair down in my eyes barefoot