#AmericanWriters #1977 #LoveIsADogFromHell
first time my father overheard me… this bit of music he asked me, “what is it?” “it’s called Love For Three Oran… I informed him.
we were in bed and she started to fight: “you son of a bitch! you just wait… I’ll get you!” I began laughing:
big black beard tells me that I don’t feel terror I look at him
the critics now have me drinking champagne and driving a BMW and also married to a socialite from
After nine or ten hours people began getting sleepy and falling into their cases, catching themselves just in time. We were working the zoned mail. If a letter read zone 28 you stuck it...
there are these small cliffs above the sea and it is night, late night; I have been unable to sleep, and with my car above me
people went into vacant lots and pulled up greens to cook and the men rolled Bull Durham or smoked Wings (10 a pack) and the dogs were thin and the cats were thin and the cats learned h...
my father was a practical man. he had an idea. you see, my son, he said, I can pay for this house in my lif… then it’s mine.
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
you haven’t lived until you’ve been in a flophouse with nothing but one light bulb
in the hospitals and jails it’s the worst in madhouses it’s the worst in penthouses
cigarettes wetted with beer from the night before you light one gag open the door for air
I kept the date in mind. It was never any problem creating a split with Lydia. I was naturally a loner, content just to live with a woman, eat with her, sleep with her, walk down the st...
I saw her when I was in the left… going east on Sunset. she was sitting with her legs crossed reading a paperback.
great writer remains in bed shades down doesn’t want to see anyone doesn’t want to write anymore doesn’t want to try anymore;