bukowski 3
I am on deadline. So I am going with a personal theory :
When in doubt [or on deadline] throw Bukowski.
how to be a great writer
— by charles bukowskiyou’ve got to fuck a great many women
beautiful women
and write a few decent love poems.and don’t worry about age
and/or freshly-arrived talents.just drink more beer
more and more beerand attend the racetrack at least once a
weekand win
if possible.learning to win is hard —
any slob can be a good loser.and don’t forget your Brahms
and your Bach and your
beer.don’t overexercise.
sleep until noon.
avoid credit cards
or paying for anything on
time.remember that there isn’t a piece of ass
in this world worth over $50
(in 1977).and if you have the ability to love
love yourself first
but always be aware of the possibility of
total defeat
whether the reason for that defeat
seems right or wrong —an early taste of death is not necessarily
a bad thing.stay out of churches and bars and museums,
and like the spider be
patient —
time is everybody’s cross,
plus
exile
defeat
treacheryall that dross.
stay with the beer.
beer is continuous blood.
a continous lover.
get a large typewriter
and as the footsteps go up and down
outside your windowhit that thing
hit it hardmake it a heavyweight fight
make it the bull when he first charges in
and remember the old dogs
who fought so well:
Heminway, Celine, Dostoevsky, Hamsun.if you think they didn’t go crazy
in tiny rooms
just like you’re doing nowwithout women
without food
without hopethen you’re not ready.
drink more beer.
there’s time.
and if there’s not
that’s all right
too.
13 Responses to bukowski 3
normally I can argue with anything at 6 a. m.
but not this post, except for the libation of choice.
morning max
Ah.. a sage that one.
Kisses
“stay with the beer.” LOL!
Dylan Thomas said, “an alcoholic is someone you don’t like who drinks as much as you do.”
Do you work better under pressure Max?
And be prepared to work for Peanuts.
Bukowski good.
You are so wordy today Eddie.
Verbosity becomes him.
:lol:
Kisses
I could apply just one paragraph of this poem to life and be satisfied.
“drink more beer.
there’s time.
and if there’s not
that’s all right
too”
Something about crunches makes beer so much less appealing. Damn. It.
Cruches are never good. I like beer on really hot days.
I like the part about not being ready if you didn’t go crazy.
Does that mean if you’re crazy, you’re ready? I feel ready.
Bukowski always manages to be crass and profound at the same time. RIP.
fantastic and true. i will remember this when on my next deadline.