"Чарльз Буковски. Дневник последних лет жизни (engl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Everybody was screaming at him. He didn't notice them. Then, painfully, we
watched as he slowly reached for his wallet. Slow, slow motion. He opened it
and peered into it. Then he poked his fingers in there. I don't even want to
go on. He finally paid and the clerk slowly handed him back his money. Then
he stood there looking at his money and his tickets, then he turned back to
the clerk and said, "No, I wanted the 6-4 exacta, not this..." Somebody
yelled out an obscenity. I walked off. The horses leaped out of the gate and
I walked to the men's room to piss.
When I came back the waiter had my bill ready. I paid, tipped 20% and
thanked him.
"See you tomorrow, amigo," he said.
"Maybe," I said.
"You'll be here," he said.
The other races ground on. I bet early on the 9th and left. I left ten
minutes before post. I got to my car and moved out. At the end of parking on
Century Boulevard by the signal there was an ambulance, a fire engine and
two police cars. Two cars had hit head-on. There was glass everywhere, the
cars were really mangled. Somebody had been in a hurry to get in and
somebody had been in a hurry to get out. Horseplayers.
I moved around the crash and took a left on Century.
Just another day shot through the head and buried. It was Saturday
afternoon in hell. I drove along with the others.

9/15/92 1:06 AM
Talk about a writer's block. I believe I was bitten by a spider. Three
times. Noticed these 3 large red welts on my left arm the night of 9-08-92.
Around 9 p.m. There was a slight pain to the touch. I decided to ignore it.
But after 15 minutes I showed the marks to Linda. She had been to an
emergency room earlier in the day. Something had left a stinger in her back.
Now it was after 9 p.m., everything was closed except the Emergency Ward of
the local hospital. I had been there before: I had fallen into a hot
fireplace while drunk. I had not fallen into the fire directly but had
fallen upon the hot surface while only wearing my shorts. Now, it was this.
These welts.
"I think I'd feel like a fool going in there with just these welts.
There are people in there bloodied from car crashes, knifings, shootings,
attempted suicides, and all I have are 3 red welts.
"I don't want to wake up with a dead husband in the morning," Lidna
said.
I thought about it for 15 minutes, then said, "All right, let's go in."
It was quiet in there. The lady at the desk was on the telephone. She
was on the telephone for some time. Then she was finished.
"Yes?" she asked.
"I think I've been bitten by something," I said. "Maybe I should be
looked at."
I gave her my name. I was in the computer. Last visit: TB time.
I was walked into a room. The nurse did the usual. Blood pressure.
Temperature.
The the doctor. He examined the welts.
"Looks like a spider," he said, "they usually bite 3 times."