I’m soft. I dream too. I let myself dream. I dream of being famous. I dream of walking the streets of London and

a woman told a man when he got off a plane that I was dead. a magazine printed the fact that I was dead

There was a gang of us down there. 150 or 200. There were tedious papers to fill out. Then we all stood up and faced the flag. The guy who swore us in was the same guy who had sworn me ...

The next day I sat in the hall in my green tin chair, waiting to be called. Across from me sat a man who had something wrong with his nose. It was very red and very raw and very fat and...

got out, fellow said, “hey!” walke… me, we shook hands, he slipped me… tickets for free car washes, “find… told him, walked on through to wai… area with wife, we sat on outside…

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

awaken at 11:30 a.m. get into my chinos and a clean gre… open a Miller’s, and nothing in the mailbox but the Berkeley Tribe

here I’ll be 55 in a week. what will I write about

here comes the fishhead singing here comes the baked potato in dra… here comes nothing to do all day l… here comes another night of no sle… here comes the phone ringing the w…

believe in earning one’s own way but I also believe in the unexpect… gift and it is a wondrous thing when a woman who has read your wor…

they’d come around and they’d ask “you finished your 2nd novel yet?” “no.”

like the fox run with the hunted and if I’m not the happiest man on earth

we were in bed and she started to fight: “you son of a bitch! you just wait… I’ll get you!” I began laughing: