#1993 #AmericanWriters #ThePleasuresOfTheDamned
my doctor has just come into his o… from surgery. he meets me in the men’s john. “God damn,” he says to me, “where did you find her? oh, I jus…
I’d tell them to have an unhappy l… affair, hemorrhoids, bad teeth and to drink cheap wine, avoid opera and golf and chess, to keep switching the head of thei…
I had been corresponding with Tanya and on the evening of January 5th she phoned. She had a high excited sexy voice like Betty Boop used to have. “I’m flying down tomorrow evening. Will...
I awaken about noon and go out to… in my old torn bathrobe. I’m hung over hair down in my eyes barefoot
neither does this mean the dead are at the door begging bread before
the men phone and ask me that. are you really Charles Bukowski the writer? they ask. I’m a sometimes writer, I say, most often I don’t do anything.
my friend William is a fortunate m… he lacks the imagination to suffer he kept his first job his first wife can drive a car 50,000 miles
I met a genius on the train today about 6 years old, he sat beside me and as the train
I remember the Model-T. Sitting high, the running boards seemed friendly, and on cold days, in the mornings, and often at other times, my father had to fit the hand-crank into the front...
cigarettes wetted with beer from the night before you light one gag open the door for air
old grey-haired waitresses in cafes at night have given it up, and as I walk down sidewalks of light and look into windows
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
if I suffer at this typewriter think how I’d feel among the lettuce-pickers of Salinas?
The next thing I knew, I had a young girl from Texas on my lap. I won’t go into details of how I met her. Anyway, there it was. She was 23. I was 36. She had long blonde hair and was go...
I keep thinking it will be outside now waiting for me blue front bumper twisted