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Future Droid

bukowski appreciation thread

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after watching barfly and reading more bukowski lately i think this thred is due.

 

port_bukowski.gif

 

 

 

what can we do?

at their best, there is gentleness in Humanity.

some understanding and, at times, acts of

courage

but all in all it is a mass, a glob that doesn't

have too much.

it is like a large animal deep in sleep and

almost nothing can awaken it.

when activated it's best at brutality,

selfishness, unjust judgments, murder.

what can we do with it, this Humanity?

nothing.

avoid the thing as much as possible.

treat it as you would anything poisonous, vicious

and mindless.

but be careful. it has enacted laws to protect

itself from you.

it can kill you without cause.

and to escape it you must be subtle.

few escape.

it's up to you to figure a plan.

I have met nobody who has escaped.

I have met some of the great and

famous but they have not escaped

for they are only great and famous within

Humanity.

I have not escaped

but I have not failed in trying again and

again.

before my death I hope to obtain my

life. from blank gun silencer - 1994

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bukowskipainting009.jpg

 

mystery tour

 

I am in this low-slung sports car

painted a deep, rich yellow

driving under an Italian sun.

I have a British accent.

I'm wearing dark shades

an expensive silk shirt.

there's no dirt under my

fingernails.

the radio plays Vivaldi

and there are two women with

me

one with raven hair

the other a blonde.

they have small breasts and

beautiful legs

and they laugh at everything I

say.

 

as we drive up a steep road

the blonde squeezes my leg

and nestles closer

while raven hair

leans across and nibbles my

ear.

 

we stop for lunch at a quaint

rustic inn.

there is more laughter

before lunch

during lunch and after

lunch.

 

after lunch we will have a

flat tire on the other side of

the mountain

and the blonde will change the

tire

while

raven hair

photographs me

lighting my pipe

leaning against a tree

the perfect background

perfectly at peace

with

sunlight

flowers

clouds

birds

everywhere.

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appreciated. factotum's an all-time favorite and i recently picked up hot water music. betting on the muse, buring in water drowning in flame, and that *something* bone pallace are all ill, too.

 

forgot the titles:

 

1.

Jimmy Fox died an alcoholic

in a skidrow hotel room.

Jack Beau ended up

shining shoes,

just where he began.

There are dozens more,

hundreds more,

maybe thousands more.

 

Being an athlete growing old is

one of the cruelest fates,

to be replaced

by others, to no longer

hear the cheers

and the plaudits, to no longer

be recognized,

just to be an old man

like other old men.

To almost not believe it yourself,

to check the scrapbook with the

yellowing pages.

There you are, smiliing;

there you are, victorious;

there you are, young.

The crowd has other heroes.

The crowd never dies,

never grows old

but the crowd often forgets.

 

Now the telephone doesn't ring,

the young girls are gone,

the party is over.

 

This is why I chose to be a writer.

If you're worth just half-a damn

you can keep your hustle going

until the last minute of

the last day.

You can keep getting better

instead of worse, you can

still keep hitting them

over the wall.

Through darkness,

war,

good and bad luck

you keep it going,

hitting them out,

the flashing lightning of the word,

beating life at life

and death too late to

truly win against you.

 

2.

don't worry, nobody has the beautiful lady,

not really, and nobody has the

strange and hidden power,

nobody is exceptional

or wonderful or

magic,

they only seem to be.

It's all a trick, as in

a con,

don't believe it.

The world is packed with

billions of people whose

lives and deaths are useless

and when one of these

jumps up and

the light of history shines

upon them,

forget it,

it's not what it seems,

it's just another act

to fool the fools again.

There are no strong men,

there are no beautiful women.

At least you can die

knowing this and you will have

the only possible victory.

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Two of my many Bukowski favorites:

 

the secret

don't worry, nobody has the

beautiful lady, not really, and

nobody has the strange and

hidden power, nobody is

exceptional or wonderful or

magic, they only seem to be.

it's all a trick, an in, a con,

dont buy it, don't believe it.

the world is packed with

billions of people whose lives

and deaths are useless and

when one of these jumps up

and the light of history shines

upon them, forget it, it's not

what it seems, it's just

another act to fool the fools

again.

 

there are no strong men, there

are no beautiful women.

at least, you can die knowing

this

and you will have

the only possible

victory.

 

alone with everybody

 

the flesh covers the bone

and they put a mind

in there and

sometimes a soul,

and the women break

vases against the wals

and the men drink too

much

and nobody finds the

one

but they keep

looking

crawling in and out

of beds.

flesh covers

the bone and the

flesh searches

for more than

flesh.

 

there's no chance

at all:

we are all trapped

by a singular

fate.

 

nobody ever finds

the one.

 

the city dumps fill

the junkyards fill

the madhouses fill

the hospital fills

the graveyards fill

nothing else fills.

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did anyone see that movie about him? it was so fucking sad to be honest...I still like his work but in some respects I lost an appreciation of his work after seing the movie. I don't know, his books for me lost their comic edge because the shit that it was based on was so sad and pathetic.. i don't know...whatever....his shits grreat

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did anyone see that movie about him? it was so fucking sad to be honest...I still like his work but in some respects I lost an appreciation of his work after seing the movie. I don't know' date=' his books for me lost their comic edge because the shit that it was based on was so sad and pathetic.. i don't know...whatever....his shits grreat[/quote']

 

have you actually read his shit? what were you expecting... he was a fuck up that bullied his way into the literary world.

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have you actually read his shit? what were you expecting... he was a fuck up that bullied his way into the literary world.

Yeah I read all his books, not really his poetry...I'm just saying I lost respect for his shit after I saw what he was all about...

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What exactly was he all about? Figured I'd throw a question out there since I have no idea who he is

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What exactly was he all about? Figured I'd throw a question out there since I have no idea who he is

 

Drinking, smoking, womanizing, drinking, fighting, living with prosititues, violence, drinking, chauvanism, drinking, puking, fighting, whores, insanity and drinking.

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I prefer his poetry over his novels. Maybe thats just cause I dont have the attention span to read books, but, Ive always favored his poems more.

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Drinking' date=' smoking, womanizing, drinking, fighting, living with prosititues, violence, drinking, chauvanism, drinking, puking, fighting, whores, insanity and drinking.[/quote']

 

that sums it up well

 

people should rent barfly, its a great movie, and gives you some idea of what the man was like. look for his cameo. he is sitting at the bar in a scene

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