pulp fiction


Livros pra se colecionar! Pulp Fiction galore! Alguns dos títulos:
Going Down With Janis
By Peggy Caserta, as told to Dan Knapp (Dell, 1974)
I wasn’t in any shape to give Janis advice or counsel on this shopping binge. As usual, she’d shot me up with too much smack and I had been throwing up every fifteen minutes since we fixed. I was so stoned I couldn’t even get out of the car. I’d opened the door again and was dry-heaving when she came up at a trot after ambling out several times to see if I was all right. Her nose was completely out of joint.
“The fuckin’ chick in the store won’t take a check from me. Will you believe that?”
“Did you tell her who you were?”
“Yeah, but she acted like she didn’t recognize me . . . I didn’t have any goddamn ID, so she wouldn’t take the check.”
About a week before, Janis had been scheduled for a Newsweek cover story, but Eisenhower had died and she’d been bounced off the cover in favor of a picture of the ex-president . . . [S]he was less than charitable about the unseating. “Fourteen mother-fucking heart attacks,” she said, stamping her foot. “And he had to kick off in my week. My week.”
Stoned as I was, I remembered that . . . she made the cover a week later. It was on the newsstands right now . . . We got a copy of Newsweek, tore the cover off and went into the store again. They honored the check.
I Was a White Slave in Harlem
By Margo Howard-Howard with Abbe Michaels (Four Walls Eight Windows, 1988)
Four decades before transvestites routinely roamed high-fashion runways and hosted cable TV talk shows, scrappy Margo Howard-Howard — a Brooklyn school teacher turned self-styled “premier drag queen” of New York — was making her own mark on the world. Not to mention on Big Apple police blotters, where the out-of-control cross-dresser was regularly booked for drugs, disorderly conduct, shoplifting, prostitution, rolling tricks and other unqueenly behavior. Somewhere along the line, this debauched trouble-magnet (imagine Charles Bukowski in a dress and heels) also staggered across the paths of celebrity acquaintances like Tallulah Bankhead, James Dean, Andy Warhol, Queen Elizabeth II and even Truman Capote, whom she hospitalized during a bloody cat fight in a taxi cab.
Amazing as this posthumous autobiography is (the author died shortly before the book went to press), it can’t begin to prepare readers for the shockeroo ending. Seems that during a routine fact-check, editors discovered Howard-Howard had actually fabricated virtually everything she’d written — in effect, perpetrating the ultimate “deception” from beyond the grave.
Child of Satan, Child of God
By Susan Atkins with Bob Slosser (Bantam Books, 1978)
One day she was a teenage IHOP waitress; the next, a homicidal hippie taking orders from Charles Manson. Now answering to a far higher authority, the reborn Christian formerly known as “Sadie Mae Glutz” provides a riveting wallow in past sins (including a stint as acid-tripping go-go girl) in this amazing cellblock tell-all.
Sensational Sampler (actual excerpt):
I looked at my two-inch-long false fingernails, painted brilliant red. And my face was something special, as I looked up into the mirror. It was eerie — milky white, broken by bright red lips that matched the color of the fingernails and by seemingly sunken blue-black eyes expertly twisted upward at the outside corners… Jet black hair framed it all. I was the perfect, sexy vampire, ready for my casket lying at the center of the stage.
Using care because of my fingernails, I reached into my big, black handbag and fished out a pill. Rehearsals had gone well — we were ready for the weirdest show on the strip, but I knew I’d never be able to get into that casket for real without being stoned. I popped the acid tab into my mouth, carefully avoiding any lipstick stains.
…The show was a smash hit along the strip. [The owner of the North Beach topless club] had scored big. But the witches’ sabbath, and my total sell-out to LSD, marijuana, and hashish, and to sex with virtually any attractive man, landed me in the hospital in four months. I was half dead from gonorrhea and had a complete physical breakdown.
E tem muito, muito mais…… Vai ver!!

  • Share on:
vai e volta
Gobbler Motel

o passado não condena