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"
Well
,
goddamn
it
then
!
"
I
pushed
her
over
backwards
on
the
bed
and
leaped
on
her
.
I
kissed
her
viciously
and
drove
my
cock
in
.
I
worked
violently
,
pumping
and
pumping
.
I
moaned
and
then
came
.
I
pumped
it
into
her
,
feeling
it
enter
,
feeling
it
steam
into
her
.
I
had
to
fly
to
Illinois
to
give
a
reading
at
the
University
.
I
hated
readings
,
but
they
helped
with
the
rent
and
maybe
they
helped
sell
books
.
They
got
me
out
of
east
Hollywood
,
they
got
me
up
in
the
air
with
the
businessmen
and
the
stewardesses
and
the
iced
drinks
and
little
napkins
and
the
peanuts
to
kill
the
breath
.
I
was
to
be
met
by
the
poet
,
William
Keesing
,
who
I
had
been
corresponding
with
since
1966
.
I
had
first
seen
his
work
in
the
pages
of
Bull
,
edited
by
Doug
Fazzick
,
one
of
the
first
mimeo
mags
and
probably
the
leader
in
the
mimeo
revolution
.
None
of
us
were
literary
in
the
proper
sense
:
Fazzick
worked
in
a
rubber
plant
,
Keesing
was
an
ex
-
Marine
out
of
Korea
who
had
done
time
and
was
supported
by
his
wife
,
Cecelia
.
I
was
working
11
hours
a
night
as
a
postal
clerk
.
That
was
also
the
time
when
Marvin
arrived
on
the
scene
with
his
strange
poems
about
demons
.
Marvin
Woodman
was
the
best
damned
demon
-
writer
in
America
.
Maybe
in
Spain
and
Peru
too
.
I
was
into
writing
letters
at
the
time
.
I
wrote
4
and
5
page
letters
to
everybody
,
coloring
the
envelopes
and
pages
wildly
with
crayons
.
That
’
s
when
I
began
writing
William
Keesing
,
ex
-
Marine
,
ex
-
con
,
drug
addict
(
he
was
mostly
into
codeine
)
.
Now
,
years
later
,
William
Keesing
had
secured
a
temporary
teaching
job
at
the
University
.
He
had
managed
to
pick
up
a
degree
or
two
between
drug
busts
.
I
warned
him
that
it
was
a
dangerous
job
for
anybody
who
wanted
to
write
.
But
at
least
he
taught
his
class
plenty
of
Chinaski
.
Keesing
and
his
wife
were
waiting
at
the
airport
.
I
had
my
baggage
with
me
and
so
we
went
right
to
the
car
.
"
My
God
,
"
said
Keesing
,
"
I
never
saw
anybody
get
off
of
an
airplane
looking
like
that
.
"
I
had
on
my
dead
father
’
s
overcoat
,
which
was
too
large
.
My
pants
were
too
long
,
the
cuffs
came
down
over
the
shoes
and
that
was
good
because
my
stockings
didn
’
t
match
,
and
my
shoes
were
down
at
the
heels
.
I
hated
barbers
so
I
cut
my
own
hair
when
I
couldn
’
t
get
a
woman
to
do
it
.
I
didn
’
t
like
to
shave
and
I
didn
’
t
like
long
beards
,
so
I
scissored
myself
every
two
or
three
weeks
.
My
eyesight
was
bad
but
I
didn
’
t
like
glasses
so
I
didn
’
t
wear
them
except
to
read
.
I
had
my
own
teeth
but
not
that
many
.
My
face
and
my
nose
were
red
from
drinking
and
the
light
hurt
my
eyes
so
I
squinted
through
tiny
slits
.
I
would
have
fit
into
any
skid
row
anywhere
.
We
drove
off
.
