Richard Brautigan

“One graveyard had tall fir trees growing in it, and the grass was kept Peter Pan green all year round. . .”

 

“Tom Martin Creek.  It’s good to name creeks after people and then later to follow them for a while seeing what they have to offer, what they know and have made of themselves.”

 

“A little way up from the shack was an outhouse with its door flung violently open.  The inside of the outhouse seemed to say, “The old guy who built me crapped here 9,745 times and he’s dead now and I don’t want anyone else to touch me.  He was a good guy.  He built me with loving care.  Leave me alone.  I’m a monument now to a good ass gone under.  There’s no mystery here.  That’s why the door’s wide open.  If you have to crap, go in the bushes like the deer.”

 

“When the jar was full he turned the water off with a sudden but delicate motion like a famous surgeon removing a disordered portion of the imagination.”

 

“When she left, it was as if she had never been there at all.”

 

“. . .until death did not want him.”

 

“The man who owned the bookstore was not magic.  He was not a three legged crow on the dandelion side of the mountain.”

 

“The owner of the bookstore came up to me, and put his arm on my shoulder and said, ‘Would you like to get laid?’ His voice was very kind.

‘No,” I said.

‘You’re wrong,’ he said. . .”

 

Sleeping with a stranger: “There was nothing else I could do for my body was like birds sitting on a telephone wire strung out down the world, tossing the wires carefully.”

 

“It was like the eternal 59th second when it becomes a minute and then looks kind of sheepish.”

 

“It was not an outhouse resting upon the imagination.  It was reality.”

 

“The rain turned the streets inward, like drowned lungs, upon themselves and I was hurrying to work, meeting swollen gutters at the intersections.”

 

“It has been raining here for two days, and through the trees, the heart stops beating.”

 

“The pistol’s right there beside the bed, just in case the pimp has an attack of amnesia and wants to have his shoes shined in a funeral parlor.”

 

“‘Me,’ he said, in a voice deep and recognizable as any name.”

 

“I watched my day begin on Little Redfish Lake as clearly as the first light of dawn or the first ray of the sunrise, though the dawn and the sunrise has long since passed and it was now late in the morning.  The surgeon took a knife from the sheath at his belt and cut the throat of the chub with a very gentle motion, showing poetically how sharp the knife was, and then he heaved the fish back out into the lake.  The chub made an awkward splash and obeyed all the traffic laws of this world SCHOOL ZONE SPEED 25 MILES and sank to the cold bottom of the lake.  It lay there white belly up like a school bus covered in snow.  A trout swam over and took a look, just putting on time, and swam away.”

 

“It was a very old cemetery and kinda run down with weeds and death growing like partners in a dance.”

 

“She had a big radio from the 1920s in the living room and it was the only thing in the house that looked remotely as if it had come from this century, and then there was still a doubt in my mind.”

 

“Trout  Fishing in America”- Richard Brautigan

 

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“The people that Joseph Francl met on his way West are mentally cross eyed and archetypically funky.”

 

“. . . staring at the ships and the sun going down behind them into billions of years of water.”

 

“She was also in poor health.  Three years passed.  That’s a long time for a young woman who’s not feeling well.”

 

“I find the breaks in his diary very beautiful like poetic pauses where you can hear the innocence of eternity.”

 

“The four boats of the Japanese squid fishermen were arranged perfectly like stars in the sky.  They were their own constellation.”

 

“It resembled the cross section of an evening in an American bar.”

 

“The smallest snowstorm on record took place an hour ago in my back yard.  It was approximately two flakes.  I waited for more to fall, but that was it.  The entire storm was just two flakes.”

 

“She was very intelligent and also had an excellent figure whose primary focus was her breasts.  They were large and well shaped.  They gardened and harvested much attention where ever she went. . .  I find intelligence in a woman to be an aphrodisiac. . . Everyone else would be looking at her breasts and I would be looking at her mind, which was architecturally clear and analytical like winter starlight.”

 

“What does a beautiful Chinese woman’s mind have to do with a story about snakes in San Francisco you are probably asking about now with a rising temperature of impatience.”

 

“‘These mountains,’ she said.  ‘I’ve lived here for over fifty years and maybe looked at the mountains a million times and they never looked the same way twice.  They’re always different, changing.’”

 

“The bars are closing in Shibuya on a Friday night and thousands of people are pouring into the streets like happy drunk toothpaste. . .”

 

“So I stand as peaceful as a banana because that’s what I look like in this all Japanese crowd.”

 

“I also went to a party.  I was in a shitty off angle wrong mood and said the same five boring sentences to forty different, totally unsuspecting and innocent people.”

 

“I think my mind is going.  It is changing into a cranial junkyard.”

 

“Do the umbrellas know that it is going to rain? Because I know that people don’t know.  The weatherman says that it will rain tomorrow but it doesn’t and you don’t see a single God damn umbrella.  Then the weatherman says that it will be a sunshiny day and suddenly there are umbrellas every where you look, and a few moments later, it starts to rain like hell.”

 

“I had awakened him and his voice was a refuge from sleep.”

 

“. . .her voice was almost desperate and suddenly she seemed very small like a frightened child, just waking up from a nightmare and trying to talk about it while it was still so vivid that the child couldn’t tell the difference between it and reality.”

 

[About a ghost]: “Her hand possesses an existence between life and death.”

 

“Sometimes I am sloppy when I dial the telephone.  I don’t get the number right and have to redial but I always dial her number very carefully like an accountant for a glass factory.”

 

“The Tokyo Montana Express” -Richard Brautigan

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“‘How’s it going, kid? Cheer up.  Foster’s here.  Hey, hello there!’  he said to Vida.  ‘My, aren’t you a pretty girl! Damn, am I glad I drove down here! Every mile was worth it.  My God, ma’am, you’re so pretty I’d walk ten miles barefooted on a freezing morning to stand in your shit.’”

 

 

“Vida’s smile had opened until now you could see the immaculate boundaries of her teeth.  Her eyes had small friendly lightning walking across them.”

 

“‘You certainly look pretty this morning,’ Foster said. ‘You look like a dream I’ve never had before.’”

 

“It was an overcast nothing day in San Diego.”

 

“So I took a good look at his face in the mirror.  He looked as if he had been beaten to death with a wine bottle, but by doing so with the contents of the bottle.”

 

“I went over to the telephone with Vida spreading erotic confusion like missile jam among the men in the store.”

 

“Alas, the innocence of love was merely an escalating physical condition and not a thing shaped like our kisses.”

 

“The daughter was pretty and obviously intelligent and didn’t know what to do with her face as she waited for her abortion, so she kept smiling in a rapid knife like way at nothing.”

 

“About forever or ten minutes passed. . .”

 

“‘How long has she been?’ the doctor said to me and starting to point at her stomach but not following through with it, so his hand was a gesture that didn’t do anything. . .The doctor paused and looked at a calendar in his mind and then nodded affectionately at the calendar.  It was probably a very familiar calendar to him.  They were old friends.”

 

“‘Well, we’ll be home soon,’ Vida said to me after a long silence that was noisy with thought.”

 

“Time had removed its ferocity.”

 

“Both feelings were passing like ships in the night.”

 

“The Abortion: An Historical Romance 1966″-Richard Brautigan

 

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“…and then coming home on the bus, holding back the tears in a lonely moving place filled with silent strangers.”

 

“They made jokes about erotic plumbing.”

 

“Their bodies raged like an apocalypse of fire, pleasure and small time perversion.”

 

“Deeply do I mourn, for my friends are nothing worth.”

 

“. . .and a mind so sharp it could have picnicked on a razor blade.”

 

About Condoms: “She felt as if she were making love to somebody in another country.”

 

“The Logan family stood in a half circle around the cabinet not believing their eyes.  They were silent miniature Mount Rushmores.”

 

“Patricia and John were busy making immortal love in the bedroom.”

 

“. . .and Patricia’s mind was drained of all passion like an empty swimming pool in the winter.”

 

“That’s one of the strange things about people living in apartment buildings.  They barely know what anybody else is doing.  The doors are made out of mystery.”

 

?”Williard and his Bowling Trophies”-R.Brautigan

 

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“.. and floated there day after day until death did not want him.”

 

“We were leaving in the afternoon for Lake Josephus, located at the edge of the Idaho wilderness, and he was leaving for America, often only a place in the mind.”

 

Karma Repair Kit: Items 1-4

 

1.          Get enough food to eat,

and eat it.

2.         Find a place to sleep where it is quiet,

and sleep there.

3.         Reduce intellectual and emotional noise

until you arrive at  the silence of yourself,

and listen to yourself.

4.

 

 

Discovery

 

The petals of the vagina unfold

like Christopher Columbus

taking off his shoes.

 

Is there anything more beautiful

than the bow of a ship

touching a new world.

 

 

Love Poem

 

It’s so nice

to wake up in the morning

all alone

and not have to tell somebody

you love them

when you don’t love them

any more.

 

Boo, Forever

 

Spinning like a ghost

on the bottom of a

top,

I’m haunted by all

the space that I

will live without you.

 

November 3

 

I’m sitting in a cafe,

drinking a Coke.

 

A fly is sleeping

on my napkin.

 

I have to wake him up,

so I can wipe my glasses.

 

There’s a pretty girl

I want to look at.

 

Milk for the Duck

 

ZAP!

unlaid/20 days

 

my sexual image

isn’t worth a shit

 

If I were dead

I couldn’t attract

a female fly.

 

“Hands are very nice things, especially after they have travelled back from making love.”

 

“He was very old and weighs many pounds and moves slowly with wisdom.”

 

“I threw it away, so not even time could find it.”

 

Book one: The Watermelon Sugar and also Chapter 3

 

“…and his life would be tired of breathing him.”

 

“He was not a good looking man but the way she looked at him somehow made him feel that he was.”

 

“It was as if the whiskey had fallen into a bottomless well without making a sound.”

 

“Love is a form of insanity.”

 

“The night turns long hen love sours.”

 

“The hostilities between the towns and the rest of the world escalated like a tornado hitting a jellybean factory on Halloween.”

 

“The room smelled like Cupid’s gym.”

 

It’s Raining in Love

 

I don’t know what it is,

but I distrust myself

when I start to like a girl

a lot.

 

It makes me nervous.

I don’t say the right things

or perhaps I start

to examine

evaluate

compute

What am I saying.

 

If I say, “Do you think that is going to rain?”

and she says , “I don’t know,”

I start thinking: Does she really like me?

 

In other word

I get a little creepy.

 

A friend of mine once said,

“It’s twenty times better to be friends

with someone

than it is to be in love with them.”

 

I think he’s right and besides,

it’s raining somewhere, programming flowers

and keeping snails happy.

That’s all taken care of.

 

BUT

if a girl likes me a lot

and starts getting real nervous

and suddenly begins asking me funny questions

and looks sad if I give the wrong answers

and she says things like, “Do you think that it’s going to rain?”

and I say, “It beats me,”

and she says, “Oh,”

and looks a little sad

at the clear blue California sky,

I think: Thank God, it’s you, baby, this time

instead of me.

-Richard Brautigan

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