"Чарльз Буковски. Дневник последних лет жизни (engl)" - читать интересную книгу автора I've always said, a writer's job is to write. If I get burned by these
fakes and sons-of-bitches, it's my fault. I'm done with them all. Let them toady up to Elizabeth Taylor. 10/22/91 4:46 PM The dangerous life. Had to get up at 8 a.m. to feed the cats because the Westec Security man was coming by at 8:30 a.m. to begin the installation of a more sophisticated warning system. (Am I the one who used to sleep on top of garbage cans?) Westec Security arrived at exactly 8:30 a.m. A good sign. I took him around the house pointing out windows, doors, etc. Good, good. We would wire them, we would install glass- breaking detectors, low beams, cross beams, fire sprinklers, etc. Linda came down and asked some questions. She is better at that than I. I had one thought: "How long will this take?" "Three days," he said. "Jesus Christ," I said. (Two of those days the racetrack would be closed.) So we fumbled around and left him in there, told him we'd be back soon. We had a $100 gift certificate at I. Magnin's somebody had given us for our wedding anniversary. Also, I had a royalty check to deposit. So, off to the bank. I signed the check. "I really like your signature," the girl said. Another girl walked over and looked at the signature. "His signature keeps changing," said Linda. "He's a writer," Linda said. "Really? What do you write?" one of the girls asked. "Tell her," I said to Linda. "He writes poems, short stories and novels," she said. "And a screenplay," I said. "Barfly." "Oh," smiled one of the girls, "I saw it." "Did you like it?" "Yes," she smiled. "Thank you," I said. Then we turned and walked off. "I heard one of the girls say as we walked in, "I know who that is," said Linda. See? We were famous. We got into the car and drove over to the shopping center to get something to eat near I. Magnin's. We got a table, had turkey sandwiches, apple juice and cappuccinos. From the table we could see a goodly portion of the mall. The place was virtually empty. Business was bad. Well, we had a hundred dollar coupon to blow. We'd help the economy. I was the only man there. Just women sat at the tables, alone, or in twos. The men were elsewhere. I didn't mind. I felt safe with the ladies. I was resting. My wounds were healing. I could stand a little shade. Damned if I could leap off of cliffs forever. Maybe after a respite I could dive over the edge again. Maybe. We finished eating and went over to I. Magnin's. |
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