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- Чарльз Буковски
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- Стр. 99/501
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"
He
’
s
rich
,
too
,
"
said
Lydia
.
"
And
he
writes
good
poetry
,
"
I
said
.
We
got
out
.
Marvin
was
in
there
with
his
saltwater
fish
tanks
and
his
paintings
.
He
painted
pretty
well
.
For
a
rich
kid
he
had
survived
nicely
,
he
had
come
through
.
I
made
the
introductions
.
Angela
walked
around
looking
at
Marvin
’
s
paintings
.
"
Oh
,
very
nice
.
"
Angela
painted
too
,
but
she
wasn
’
t
very
good
.
I
had
brought
some
beer
and
had
a
pint
of
whiskey
hidden
in
my
coat
pocket
which
I
nipped
on
from
time
to
time
.
Marvin
brought
out
some
more
beer
and
a
mild
flirtation
began
between
Marvin
and
Angela
.
Marvin
seemed
eager
enough
but
Angela
seemed
inclined
to
laugh
at
him
.
She
liked
him
,
but
not
well
enough
to
fuck
him
right
away
.
We
drank
and
talked
.
Marvin
had
bongo
drums
and
a
piano
and
some
grass
.
He
had
a
good
,
comfortable
house
.
In
a
house
like
this
I
could
write
better
,
I
thought
,
my
luck
would
be
better
.
You
could
hear
the
ocean
and
there
were
no
neighbors
to
complain
about
the
noise
of
a
typewriter
.
I
continued
to
nip
at
the
whiskey
.
We
stayed
2
or
3
hours
,
then
left
.
Lydia
took
the
freeway
back
.
"
Lydia
,
"
I
said
,
"
you
fucked
Marvin
,
didn
’
t
you
?
"
"
What
are
you
talking
about
?
"
"
The
time
you
went
over
there
late
at
night
,
alone
.
"
"
Goddamn
you
,
I
don
’
t
want
to
hear
that
!
"
