#AmericanWriters #1977 #LoveIsADogFromHell
never even in calmer times have I ever dreamed of bicycling through that
the rooms at the hospital went for 550 a day. that was for the room alone. the amazing thing, though, was tha… in some of the rooms
Hugo Wolf went mad while eating a… and writing his 253rd song; it was… April and the worms came out of th… humming Tannhäuser, and he spilled… with his ink, and his blood fell o…
I get many phonecalls now. They are all alike. “are you Charles Bukowski, the writer?” “yes,” I tell them.
and so we suck on a cigar and a beer attempting to mend the love
one of the terrible things is really being in bed night after night with a woman you no longer
horses running with her miles away laughing with a fool Bach and the hydrogen bomb
he met her at the racetrack, a str… blonde with round hips, well-bosom… turned-up nose, flower mouth, in a… wearing white high-heeled shoes. she began asking him questions abo…
the pleasures of the damned are limited to brief moments of happiness: like the eyes in the look of a dog… like a square of wax,
at their best, there is gentleness… some understanding and, at times,… courage but all in all it is a mass, a glo… have too much.
I went with two ladies down to Venice to look for antique furniture. I parked in back of the store and went in with them.
they’re not going to let you sit at a front table at some cafe in Europe in the mid-afternoon sun. you do, somebody’s going to
the girls were young and worked the streets but often couldn’t score, they
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
The subs themselves made Jonstone possible by obeying his impossible orders. I couldn’t see how a man of such obvious cruelty could be allowed to have his position. The regulars didn’t ...