#AmericanWriters #1977 #LoveIsADogFromHell
neither does this mean the dead are at the door begging bread before
There are sketches on the walls of… and outside a large green bus swer… insanity sprung from a waving line… says the radio, and Jane Austin,… “I am going to do her portrait on…
I had been corresponding with a lady in San Francisco for several months. Her name was Liza Weston and she survived by giving dance lessons, including ballet, in her own studio. She was...
I got lucky the next day. They called my name. It was a different doctor. I stripped down. He turned a hot white light on me and looked me over. I was sitting on the edge of the examina...
then there was the time in New Orleans I was living with a fat woman, Marie, in the French Quarter and I got very sick.
she’s young, she said, but look at me, I have pretty ankl… and look at my wrists, I have pret… wrists my god,
In the betting line the other day man behind me asked, “are you Henry Chinaski?”
The drilling and squeezing continued for weeks but there was little result. When one boil vanished another would appear. I often stood in front of the mirror alone, wondering how ugly a...
she wrote me a letter from a small room near the Seine. she said she was going to dancing class, she got up, she said at 5 o’clock in the morning
There was this place. It stretched over the sea, it was built over the sea. An old place, but with a touch of class. We got a room on the first floor. You could hear the ocean running d...
I keep thinking it will be outside now waiting for me blue front bumper twisted
I have lain in bed all day but I have written one poem and I am up now looking out the window and like a novelist might say
When I awakened it was 1:30 pm. I took a bath, got dressed, checked the mail. A letter from a young man in Glendale. "Dear Mr. Chinaski: I am a young writer and I think that I am a good...
Jack London drinking his life awa… writing of strange and heroic men. Eugene O’Neill drinking himself o… while writing his dark and poetic works.
yesterday drunken Alice gave me a jar of fig jam and today she whistles