#AmericanWriters #1993 #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
On Thanksgiving Iris prepared the turkey and put it in the oven. Bobby and Valerie came over for a few drinks but they didn’t stay. It was refreshing. Iris had on another dress, just as...
The next day Katherine phoned me. She said she had the tickets and would be landing at L.A. International Friday at 2:30 pm. “Katherine,” I said, “there’s something I’ve got to tell you...
That summer, July 1934, they gunned down John Dillinger outside the movie house in Chicago. He never had a chance. The Lady in Red had fingered him. More than a year earlier the banks h...
with an Apple Macintosh you can’t run Radio Shack program… in its disc drive. nor can a Commodore 64 drive read a file
the wind blows hard to night and it’s a cold wind and I think about the boys on the row. hope some of them have a bottle
I’m soft. I dream too. I let myself dream. I dream of being famous. I dream of walking the streets of London and
death wants more death, and its we… I remember my father’s garage, how… I would brush the corpses of flies from the windows they thought were… their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodies
nobody goes downtown anymore the plants and trees have been cut… Pershing Square the grass is brown and the street preachers are not a…
a symphony orchestra. there is a thunderstorm, they are playing a Wagner overture and the people leave their seats u… and run inside to the pavilion
One morning a few days later I entered Lydia’s courtyard as she was walking in from the alley. She had been over to see her friend Tina who lived in an apartment house on the corner. Sh...
the essence of the belly like a white balloon sacked is disturbing like the running of feet on the stairs
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
This will refer to the letter addressed to you dated August 17, 1969, proposing your suspension without pay for three days or other disciplinary action, based on Charge No. 1 specified ...
this time has finished me. I feel like the German troops whipped by snow and the communists walking bent with newspapers stuffed into
I sit here on the 2nd floor hunched over in yellow pajamas still pretending to be a writer.