autobiography

as child read books like the decline and fall of the roman empire smoke careful (harley davidson) cigarettes in back alleys through walks down the road knew crime and punishment through and through
karamozov so sang me to sleep on so many night cold and lonely nights and
othertimes
sat on back porches never cried in film had always strange knowing smile so they say that's what they tell me wrote a shitty vegas novel ten or eleven "in an empty garden" it was called and reeked of puzo who also loved karamoazov found henry miller a bit too young loved going down from the first burned flesh to prove points didn't sleep so much or sometimes at all threw garbage off back balcony didn't have much furniture roomate and i-

peddler for while short stories filled a couple dozen notebooks wrote long lovesongs to the estranged women in my life or girls in my life enigma stanzas about the lines of hips or the white of an eye or skinsmell read all the holy books drank too much hardly drank at all drank too much hardly drank at all drank too much hardly drank at all (in places, you see) wrote only sad songs for a while a novel in short stories a dozen days in the sun comes down from trips in sandboxes or on porches of people i dont know broke a few laws got laid got arrested got straight (not necessarily in that order) had good dreams had no dreams lost a few friends made a few more (can't remember what happened to them) worked in retail, worked in coffee fell in love, fell apart, fell away laid by pools and got drunk hideously hilariously viciously humorously rendundancy was the way of it had a good gig a few hours a week a few hundred bucks scraped a few knees had health problems stopped drinking got better got laid got some hit it slept alone woke up in my own sweat or vomit more than a few times stopped drinking again slept on friends floors got a job got straight smiled more, make sense?

2003-11-25 | 7:21 p.m.
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