Akce tohoto týdne:

Miguel Cervantes: balíček 2 elektronických knih (PDF+ePub)     za 98  74 Kč (-25%)

Náhodná ukázka:

54

I found a room on Temple Street in the Filipino district. It was $3.50 a week, upstairs on the second floor. I paid the landlady -- a middle-aged blond -- a week's rent. The toilet and tub were down the hall but there was a wash basin to piss in.

My first night there I discovered a bar downstairs just to the right of the entrance. I liked that. All I had to do was climb the stairway and I was home. The bar was full of little dark men but they didn't bother me. I'd heard all the stories about Filipinos -- that they liked white girls, blonds in particular, that they carried stilettoes, that since they were all the same size, seven of them would chip in and buy one expensive suit, with all the accessories, and they would take turns wearing the suit one night a week. George Raft had said somewhere that Filipinos set the style trends. They stood on street corners and swung golden chains around and around, thin golden chains, seven or eight inches long, each man's chain-length indicating the length of his penis.

The bartender was Filipino.

"You're new, hub?" he asked.

"I live upstairs. I'm a student."

"No credit."

I put some coins down.

"Give me an Eastside."

He came back with the bottle.

"Where can a fellow get a girl?" I asked. He picked up some of the coins.

"I don't know anything," he said and walked to the register.

That first night I closed the bar. Nobody bothered me. A few blond women left with the Filipinos. The men were quiet drinkers. They sat in little groups with their heads close together, talking, now and then laughing in a very quiet manner. I liked them. When the bar closed and I got up to leave the bartender said, "Thank you." That was never done in American bars, not to me anyhow. I liked my new situation. All I needed was money.

I decided to keep going to college. It would give me some place to be during the daytime. My friend Becker had dropped out. There wasn't anybody that I much cared for there except maybe the instructor in Anthropology, a known Communist. He didn't teach much Anthropology. He was a large man, casual and likeable.

"Now the way you fry a porterhouse steak," he told the class,

"you get the pan red hot, you drink a shot of whiskey and then you pour a thin layer of salt in the pan. You drop the steak in and sear it but not for too long. Then you flip it, sear the other side, drink another shot of whiskey, take the steak out and eat it immediately."

Once when I was stretched out on the campus lawn he had come walking by and had stopped and stretched out beside me.

"Chinaski, you don't believe all that Nazi hokum you're spreading around, do you?"

"I'm not saying. Do you believe your crap?"

(...)

(Charles Bukowski, Ham On Rye)

Vybrané tipy na oblíbený obsah (nejnavštěvovanější v poslední době):

• Jan Neruda
• Jaroslav Hašek
• kniha Kulička od Guy de Maupassanta
• Giovanni Boccaccio a jeho Dekameron
• Tulák po hvězdách od Jacka Londona
• Divá Bára od Boženy Němcové
• pohádky bratří Grimmů
• Josef Kajetán Tyl
• Ezopovy Bajky
• kniha Alenka v říši divů

Literární doupě - on-line knihovna, zdroj pro čtenářský deník, referáty, seminárky z češtiny, přípravu na maturitu a povinnou četbu; knihy zdarma (free e-books), recenze, ukázky, citáty, životopisy, e-knihy ke stažení do čtečky (Kindle a další)

© 1999-2024 Johanesville