Writers; Fuck Yeah

pezzz:

Philip K. Dick in Acrylic Ink on decently large in size BFK Rives

libraryland:

walkwhilereading:

Vonnegut and Wolfe.

(sorry don’t know the photographer)

I adore this photograph.

Likely taken on Cape Cod.

André Gide

Burroughs, Jean-Michel Basquiat and Debbie Harry

psychoza:

nevver:

William S. Burroughs points to himself

Robert Crumb, photographed by Art Shay

youmightfindyourself:

Truman Capote, New Orleans. 1947. by Henri Cartier-Bresson

daveybqueen:

Roberto Bolaño

psychoza:

libraryland | predatorywaspobserver:

“It seems wherever I go there is drama. People are like lice - they get under your skin and bury themselves there. You scratch and scratch until blood comes, but you can’t get permanently deloused. Everywhere I go people are making a mess of their lives. Everyone has his private tragedy.”

- Henry Miller in Tropic of Cancer (1934)

If Jack Kerouac is remembered for one thing, it’s got to be his high school football career

Think Knut Hamsun was fun to hang out with? I don’t.