one of the best things about bukowski is he was not pretty

bukowski with catand yet he still got laid.

truly valuable lesson because any man can strut around if he’s tall handsome and wealthy

imagine youre squat, pockmarked, fat and you live a block from skid row.

if you can pull with all that working against you then yeah people should read your books.

last night a rich pretty boy from the valley drove a new bmw around a college town and shot at blonde girls who in his mind wouldn’t give him the time of day

he killed six college kids including one that he ran over.

in a series of youtube videos he said he was frustrated because he was 22 and hadnt even held a girls hand let alone had sex with anyone

despite being what he considered to be beautiful.

charles bukowski needs to be taught in every school.

bukowski too was dismayed by a good chunk of american society but he pushed through.

in fact the main themes of his poetry and prose is no matter what cards you are dealt, you play them

you dont turn over the table, you dont cheat, you dont raise your fist at the sky and ask why wasnt i born a six foot five water polo god

you do you your thing, you make your own luck, you turn to the woman next to you

and you accept what comes next.

despite being ridiculously prolific, bukowski would sometimes go back to his masterpieces and edit them before they were published or placed in an anthology.

the 1977 poem The Crunch probably would have resonated best with last night’s killer who was quickly shot dead by local sheriffs.

here are the three versions of it, all great in their little ways.

“there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock”

states bukowski. plainly. almost scientifically.

please tell me the city college virgin wouldnt have seen himself in this bit from the final edited version:

“we forget the terror of one person
aching in one room
cut off
watering a plant alone
without a telephone that would never

the lesson of bukowski is he can bust out with something like that, such a clear stark blast

but when he’s done he pours a glass of wine,

smiles to himself

drinks the wine, alone or otherwise

and feels beautiful inside

where it counts.