some ppl type about bukowski like they know him

bukowskithey pretend theyve read him.

likewise they think they know the first thing about this 22 year old virgin

living in isla vista.

i can imagine being on the moon

but i have no clue what it would be like to be 22 and never had even held hands with a girl

i was a 21 year old virgin in isla vista many moons ago.

long before instagram and facebook and twitter and youtube.

i cant imagine what weird ideas i would have had about my classmates if that was shoved in my face

but id not only kissed a girl or two before that, but had love.

still, i dont know the first thing about that stupid sad murderer who is now dead

and good riddance.

anyways, for some reason when you mention bukowski to some people all they remember is when he kicked his adorable wife Linda in that doc.

i flinched too when i saw it at first.

we forget that the drunken fool, the guy who rarely refused barfights (in his tales), could turn on the woman who loved him the most. on camera. for a brief moment in time.

we forget that people are complicated.

we try to pretend that we aren’t.

heres my favorite bukowski poem


there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the ****s and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
in there.

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
you want to blow my book sales in
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
and we sleep together like
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do

ive missed the haters


I’m living in that 21st Century, doing something weird to it
Do it better than anybody you ever seen do it
Screams from the haters, got a nice ring to it
I guess every superhero need his theme music

i admit it.

they’re so scared to put their full names on things, it’s cute.

they believe the xbi is real and the people’s blogs that they write their nonsense will track them down and… i dont know, write ridiculous things on their amazing site?

there was a time when the web was different. when the blogosphere ruled like the dinosaurs did.

but then there was a meteor and the ice age and most people abandoned their blogs for social media.

strangers don’t write silly things on other people’s facebook walls. maybe in tweets, but jackasses have so few twitter followers it wouldn’t be seen.

ive missed the haters, they remind me im better than some.

thats a priceless commodity that some pay hookers for.

when you blog correctly it comes free.