#AmericanWriters #1993 #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
I have been hanging here headless for so long that the body has forgotten
after the slaughter house there was a bar around the corner and I sat in there and watched the sun go down through the window,
listen, man, don’t tell me about t… sent, we didn’t receive them, we are very careful with manuscrip… we bake them burn them
I didn’t contest the divorce, didn’t go to court. Joyce gave me the car. She didn’t drive. All I had lost was 3 or 4 million. But I still had the post office. “I saw you with that bitch...
I used to know a dutchman in a Ph… he’d take 3 raw eggs in his beer, 71, still working, strong,
I was always a natural slob I liked to lay upon the bed in undershirt (stained, of course) (and with cigarette holes)
no one is sorry I am leaving, not even I; but there should be a minstrel or at least a glass of wine. bothers the young most, I think:
you gotta have wars suppose World War One was the bes… really, you know, both sides were… they really had something to fight… they really thought they had somet…
Long walks at night— that’s what good for the soul: peeking into windows watching tired housewives trying to fight off
Marina Louise, Fay named the child. So there it was, Marina Louise Chinaski. In the crib by the window. Looking up at the tree leafs and bright designs whirling on the ceiling. Then she...
—he’s a dandy —small moustache —usually sucking on a cigar he tends to lean into cars as he transacts business
she sits up there drinking wine while her husband is at work. she puts quite
they talk down through the centuries to us, and this we need more and more, the statues and paintings in midnight age
I suppose it’s raining in some Sp… while I’m feeling bad like this; I’d like to think so now.
Our man was there to meet us, Gary Benson. He also wrote poetry and drove a cab. He was very fat but at least he didn’t look like a poet, he didn’t look North Beach or East Village or l...