The Daily


Drunk Texts from Famous Authors

January 1, 2013 | by

We’re out this week, but we’re re-posting some of our favorite pieces from 2012 while we’re away. We hope you enjoy—and have a happy New Year!

Jessie Gaynor studies poetry and ill-advised text messages at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop.



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  1. bh | June 18, 2012 at 11:34 am

    Nicely done! Love it.

  2. Crys Haney-Heflin | June 18, 2012 at 11:55 am

    I think I may have sent a few of those.

  3. eric norris | June 18, 2012 at 12:56 pm

    You forgot Shakespeare’s

    hey nonny nonny
    alas and alack
    i gotta go leak
    I’ll brb…

  4. jf | June 18, 2012 at 1:39 pm

    the funniest thing is that Sappho uses a Nokia

  5. fer cual fer | June 18, 2012 at 1:40 pm

    “There is a woman near the bar. I’ll try to score with her. Maybe get into some fight later on, with that man she’s talking to. Give him some good one two, like my old man used to say.”

    “I may be drunk i don’t know you would love these tiles on the floor they look pretty i wouldn’t know since im really drunk you always said I talked nonesense when i got too many cups what would you care i miss you im so hungry right now how much for the tequila shot again.”

    “Loreen, my stiff just got caught in this door and im bleeding like hell, meet in my place, right now, bring some wine.”

    “Adolfito, I was listening to this orillero scratching a tango on his guitar, the most infinite melodies he tamed. Then I came to realize the orillero was myself and i had just walked out of the bar.”

    “”Go away” Sherwood said, “Not until you edit my book” i said, “I said you go away” he said, “I insist” i said, “only if i don’t have to read it” he said, he smacked me on the head and took the book with him. And that’s how I became a writer.”

    “Then everybody in the bar had their drinks refilled out of the blue and no one could explain why it happend but they surely kept on driking, yet the man with the raincoat, who was talking to the dog-faced woman, wasn’t surprised at all, Let’s get it off, i heard him say, Alright, my place or your place, Any place is fine.”

    “Cabernet Sauvignon, often referred to as the “King of Red Wine Grapes,” originally from Bordeaux, with a substantial foothold in California’s wine races, has the privilege of being the world’s most sought after red wine. Cabernet Sauvignon grapes tend to favor warmer climates and are often an ideal wine for aging, with 5-10 years being optimal for the maturation process to peak. Because Cabs take a bit longer to reach maturation, allowing their flavors to mellow, they are ideal candidates for blending with other grapes, primarily Merlot. This blending softens the Cabernet, adding appealing fruit tones, without sacrificing its innate character, and me is having another glass, sea-dog.”

  6. Emma | June 18, 2012 at 3:20 pm

    this is the best thing ever.

  7. Sam Pratt | June 18, 2012 at 3:20 pm

    With famous writers, the first part of “drunk texts” is redundant.

  8. Ash | June 18, 2012 at 3:34 pm

    Raymond Carver:

    Will you please stop texting me please?

  9. Julie | June 18, 2012 at 4:14 pm

    e.e. cummings:


    so —

    out ]]
    — do you

    my (keys)}}


  10. DRUNK HULK | June 18, 2012 at 4:49 pm


  11. Alex | June 18, 2012 at 5:39 pm


  12. danny Gardner | June 19, 2012 at 1:58 am

    shonna mater any glue left?

  13. Lisa Heidke | June 19, 2012 at 4:14 am

    How much do we love Philip Roth!

  14. Noah Cohen | June 19, 2012 at 4:30 am

    Like the sparkle in your eyesssss,
    My drink keeps me guessing into the night.
    My eyes keep undressing thee from afar.
    I shut them tight tho….
    Dear God,
    Let’s fuck plz

    I on my drink and my drink on me
    doth try our horsemanships;
    ride, my love. Bartender,
    another daiquiri, perchance?

    Midway into my night, I let go,
    Heard a call from another world. Wait,
    Just my cell. Sorry. More grappa, yo.

  15. iliot | June 19, 2012 at 11:46 am

    digestible with a nginig-pepe factor.

  16. No Country for Old Authors | June 19, 2012 at 1:03 pm

    Cormac McCarthy

    the bartender is staring at me with a piteous mix of distain and lost opportunity. his scowl says ‘I’d be able to sell you more if you could hold your damn liquor’ – his tobacco-stained mouth says “Go”

  17. xz | June 19, 2012 at 1:46 pm

    Cheever -would- be referred to by his last name.

  18. Gillian Burnes | June 19, 2012 at 2:40 pm

    Billy Collins:
    Some time after we lost the soft brown cork
    from the Herradura silver
    You departed somehow through those French doors.

    Perhaps now you could let me know
    whose pants these are,
    just the color of blue Easter eggs,
    and why I am wearing these slingbacks.

  19. Randall Newton | June 19, 2012 at 2:58 pm

    Funniest thing I’ve seen on texting in a long time.

  20. Rob MacGregor | June 19, 2012 at 3:07 pm


  21. Lisa Larrabee | June 19, 2012 at 9:07 pm

    The f-ers stole all my whiskey, beer, cigarettes, and my glasses so I can’t write … I borrowed a canoe and met up with some natives for supplies … happy again (except my glasses are still missing)

  22. CAMILLE CUSUMANO | June 19, 2012 at 10:02 pm

    F. Sott Sfitzjerald
    The rate of a first-test intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the hand at the same mind, and still refrain from the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see things are otherwise and yet be determined to make them hopeless.

  23. Melissa Joy Miller | June 19, 2012 at 10:47 pm

    Walt Whitman:

    O Captain! Captain Morgan! My brother!
    O goose that is not grey, white goose, clear goose, goosey goose!!!
    O merrimatter of snafued equilibrioception!
    Do I contradict myself???
    Very well then I contradict myself,
    (I contain bubblies.)

  24. ArtVark | June 20, 2012 at 12:09 am

    William Faulkner

    Drunkenly drunk two gin (and tonics), three martinis (vodka, (shaken) (not stirred (how trite))), but where can one
    get a marguerita (no salt) in Yonknapatawpha?

  25. Lily | June 20, 2012 at 5:42 am

    thank you.

  26. Gareth Calway | June 20, 2012 at 8:31 am

    Let us go then you and I
    Where the evening is spread out against the sky
    And guttering under the table.
    Jug jug.

  27. Michael | June 20, 2012 at 2:23 pm

    Doug Adams:
    Gulp. I am about to enter a three-way with this two-headed twit I met at the restaurant at the end of University Avenue. Panicking.

  28. Levi | June 20, 2012 at 2:26 pm


    The man next to me carry d an empty glass. His stocmach carried the Guniess. I carried whisky. And coke. And rum. All in a roughly equal portions. The woman I was talking to carried a bottle or red wine that she kept pouring from. Down it would swirl into her clear crystal glass. She also carried high expectations for me to be a better conversationalist.

  29. BecomingSydney | June 21, 2012 at 3:55 am

    D. Abu Jaber: bartender’s eyes are heavy with grief. The olives salty and fat with juniper, gin flows easily from glass to tongue. I really need chocolate chip cookies. And Lamb. Roasted Lamb. And bring some hummus. Mmmm cookies

  30. ryanlangerud | June 21, 2012 at 12:07 pm

    The Stein text was magic.

  31. Dolly Delightly | June 22, 2012 at 10:28 am


  32. DrunkOnTrunk | June 22, 2012 at 1:56 pm


    The spirits said, take us in!
    Vodka, Cognac, and some Gin!
    Quickly quickly, you must consume!
    And then, about me, spun the room.

  33. Roger | June 24, 2012 at 9:57 am

    Marry me!

  34. yujin | June 24, 2012 at 10:26 pm

    this is beautiful

  35. Howard Cowan | July 2, 2012 at 5:52 pm

    I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered cocktail, one which fails to sally forth to meet its critic, but slinks from the bar wear that immortal high is to be fought for, not without hangovers and regret.
    –John Milton

  36. Lori | July 3, 2012 at 10:04 am

    Somebody do Mamet. (My brain’s not on yet.)

  37. KateC | July 3, 2012 at 11:37 am

    It just occurred to me that a number Hemingway’s poems resemble drunk texts, especially this one:

    [I’m off’n wild wimmen]
    I’m off’n wild wimmen
    An Cognac
    An Sinnin’
    For I’m in loOOOOOOOve.
    c. 1922

    *I’m not kidding. This is an actual published Hemingway poem.

  38. Diana | July 3, 2012 at 1:28 pm

    Love drunk Hulk, but also partial to “mine.” want chocolate chips NOW.

  39. Augustus Shackleton | July 3, 2012 at 1:58 pm

    Cormack Mc Carthy
    The sun bled the sky to death while he stood by the bar & rested his elbow there & ordered another drink & some snacks & cigarrettes.
    Can I help you
    One more whisky
    It will be one to many I fear
    You fear for me you mean
    I fear for you
    Don’t. Just pour.
    He vomited for the rest of the afternoon and all the next day.

  40. Fantasist | July 3, 2012 at 8:46 pm

    This phone is pure concept of my voice
    your ear…soft, perfect ear, though
    phone, just waiting here for all
    thoughts that could be exuded from
    my brain to your brain. Through ear.
    They should make phones in the shapes
    of ears…I would touch it constantly.
    Do you think Jung would say my ear
    fetish is like a Freudian slip for the
    fact that I’m a writer? This text is
    pure conceptual ear…

  41. Lora | July 4, 2012 at 4:50 pm

    Willa Cather
    My calico hem stuck to a briar, a taunting meadowlark jeered, spinning me endlessly into the primrose grasp.

  42. Darya Teesewell | July 5, 2012 at 11:53 am

    Barman, why are you staring at me?
    Are you trying to pick me up
    or throw me out?
    When will you be worthy of your Sandeman Port? When will you stay open past five?
    I should have gone to Chinatown.

  43. Belinda255 | July 7, 2012 at 10:33 am

    Ayn Rand:
    The barman laughed.

  44. Laura | July 7, 2012 at 1:41 pm

    Poe would have texted, but he had lost his phone once again. Behind the wall or under the floor? He couldn’t remember.

  45. JulieH | July 8, 2012 at 8:45 pm

    Eddy Poe

    Sweet sister, this wretched eve I fell again into drink
    Now all that blinds my sight is your luminous silhouette
    Your dark eye, your pale cheek
    I beg of you, come at once and soothe my fevered brow
    With your sweet kisses
    Also, please bring cash — I cannot locate my wallet
    Nor my clothes

  46. sandwich | July 8, 2012 at 10:58 pm

    Someone do Eliot! Or rumii! Neruda? Lorca! Robert Frost’s easy access.

  47. David Nixon | July 10, 2012 at 9:06 am

    In the room, talking of Michael-who-the-fuck? Hit my head on the platter & heard mermaids. Bitches wouldn’t talk to me.

  48. Dave Kaufman - Techlife | July 27, 2012 at 2:16 pm

    Not easy to find a good Gertrude Stein reference with a bit of a quote attached. This was a perfect link for my syndicated column Techlife. Thanks.

  49. chem | August 22, 2012 at 11:01 pm

    Lori | July 3, 2012 at 10:04 am
    Somebody do Mamet…

    We’re fucked and now this 3am last call. You know what? Zipped by, whatever it is was the 2am clarion call, it goddamn never got here to begin with. I know a place that’s still open. We’ll never make it. We’re fucked and we’re going. Meet me at wait a minute, this is what was still open. Meet us here. We’ll be gone by then.

  50. chem | August 22, 2012 at 11:06 pm

    Don’t bother calling.

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83 Pingbacks

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