Willie worked on an onion.
I talked to Neal Cassady.
he's gone completely crazy." "yeah, he's begging for busts.
it's stupid.
building a forced myth.
being in Kerouac's book screwed up his mind." "man," I said, "there's nothing like a bit of dirty literary gossip, is there?" "sure," said Dutch, "let's talk shop.
everybody talks shop." "listen, Bukowski, do you think that there's any poetry being written now? by anybody? Lowell made time, you know." "almost all the great names have died recently --- Frost, cum- mings, Jeffers, W.C.
Williams, T.S.
Eliot, the rest.
a couple of nights ago, Sandburg.
in a very short period, they all seemed to die to- gether, throw in Vietnam and the ever-riots and it has been a very strange and quick and festering and new age.
look at those skirts now, almost up around the ass.
we are moving quickly and I like it, it is not bad.
