|Raymond Carver (1938-1988)|
Nelson was still feeling in his pockets. He took a wallet from a pocket inside the suit coat and put it on the table. He patted the wallet. "Five big ones there. Listen here," he said to Donna. "I going to give you two bills. You with me? I give you two big ones, and then you French me. Just like his woman doing some other big fellow. You hear? You know she got her moth on somebody's hammer right this mintue while he here with his hand up your skirt. Fair's fair. Here." He pulled the corners of the bills from his wallet. "Hell, here another hundred for your good friend, so he won't feel left out. He don't have to do nothing. You don't have to do nothing," Nelson said to me. "You just sit there and drink your drink and listen to the music. Good music. Me and this woman walk out together like good friends. And she walk back in by herslef. Won't be long, she be back."
"Nelson," benny said, "this is no way to talk, Nelson."
Nelson grinned. "I finished talking," he said.
He found what he'd been feeling for. It was a silver cigarette case. He opened it up. I looked at the ear inside. It was on a bed of cotton. It looked like a dried mushroom. But it was a real ear, and it was hooked up to a key chain.
"Jesus," said Donna. "Yuck."
"Ain't that something?" Nelson said. He was watching Donna.
"No way. Fuck off," Donna said.
"Girl," Nelson said.
"Nelson," I said. And then Nelson fixed his red eyes on me. He pushed the hat and wallet and cigarette case out of his way.
"What do you want?" Nelson said. "I give you what you want."
V I T A M I N S r c a r v e r
The American short story writer and poet Raymond Carver was born in Clatskanie, Oregon, on May 25, 1938, and lived in Port Angeles, Washington during his last ten, sober years until his death from cancer on August 2, 1988. He was a Guggenheim Fellow in 1979 and was twice awarded grants from the National Endowment for the Arts. In 1983 Carver received the prestigious Mildred and Harold Strauss Living Award which gave him $35,000 per year tax free and required that he give up any employment other than writing, and in 1985 Poetry magazine's Levinson Prize. In 1988 he was elected to the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters and was awarded an honorary Doctorate of Letters from the University of Hartford. He received a Brandeis Citation for fiction in 1988. His work has been translated into more than twenty languages. Phil Carson
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