nothing in here is true

  1. Saturday, October 19, 2013

    i understand fear, trust me, i do. but i also have experienced love 


    and i pity the fools who avoid true love

    omg omg omg love

    the kind that doesnt fade away after the typical expiration date

    the kind that if you werent naked with each other youd still be obsessive friends

    true love

    ever lasting love.

    i pity the fools who shy away from that sorta love cuz theyre afraid it might hurt them somehow.

    afraid it doesnt exist. they know it exists.

    they read how love inspires people to write novels and movies and carve giant statues

    and hold boom boxes over their heads

    in the rain

    under the cherry moon.

    somethings gonna kill us. every movie ends.

    no sense in playing it safe. there is no safe. there is just a cliff in the distance that we all fall off.

    people are gonna cry at your funeral pretty girl.

    make sure those tears are for the beautiful explosion of joy your life was

    and not for the potential you never ever reached.

  2. Friday, August 16, 2013

    today is charles bukowski’s birthday, he’s 93 

    bukowski reading the busblog

    and you might say but hes dead and id say prove it.

    where is his replacement? who’s the new bukowski?

    you cant be dead if you dont have a sequel.

    who is writing poems still and short stories and novels.

    someone who will be known far and wide for not just now but for decades later.

    a man of the people. a hobo. a drunk. a fighter. a lover. a writer.

    “We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.”

    hollywood bowl

    to pre celebrate his birthday i took a pretty girl to the hollywood bowl to hear some classical musics

    his favorite.

    just so happened that gustavo dudamel was rockin the joint this week. he started off with Aida on sunday

    and then had two nights of Requiem to celebrate the man’s passing

    it was a warm night, the young lady brought a nice bottle of white

    and made the most delicious vegan deviled eggs from little white potatoes and witchcraft

    and also created boneless chicken wings from sassafrass dust and sweet potatoes

    tasted just like chicken.

    for some reason the bowl wasnt packed which surprised me because the weather was perfect.

    if bukowski was there he would have have fallen down drunk

    scraped both knees

    and laughed into the hollywood night.

  3. Tuesday, November 6, 2012
  4. Wednesday, October 17, 2012

    North of no west 


    I took the train to work today. I think I’m going to make a habit of it. My work pays for public transportation. Which is a nice thing, because I can read one hour in and one hour out.

    Today I am reading Henry Charles Bukowski The finest poet of 20th-century. He does everything right it’s hard to compete and impossible to compete so you may as well just enjoy.

    Last night I had a delicious dinner with a beautiful girl. I think Charles would have appreciated it.

    When I dropped her off instantly two very suspicious men walked near her and made me fear for every woman out there.

    Good thing there’s guns.

  5. Saturday, August 25, 2012

    The laughing heart by charles bukowski read by tom waits 

    your life is your life
    don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
    be on the watch.
    there are ways out.
    there is a light somewhere.
    it may not be much light but
    it beats the darkness.
    be on the watch.
    the gods will offer you chances.
    know them.
    take them.
    you can’t beat death but
    you can beat death in life, sometimes.
    and the more often you learn to do it,
    the more light there will be.
    your life is your life.
    know it while you have it.
    you are marvelous
    the gods wait to delight
    in you.

  6. Thursday, August 16, 2012

    today is charles bukowski’s birthday, he woulda been 92 

    he’s also my hero, duh.

    he’s america’s greatest poet of the 20th century, maybe ever.

    this one is one he wrote in a poetry book called “The Last Night of the Earth Poems”

    it’s called “Question and Answer”

    he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
    night, running the blade of the knife
    under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
    of all the letters he had received
    telling him that
    the way he lived and wrote about
    it had kept them going when
    all seemed

    putting the blade on the table, he
    flicked it with a finger
    and it whirled
    in a flashing circle
    under the light.

    who the hell is going to save
    me? he

    as the knife stopped spinning
    the answer came:
    you’re going to have to
    save yourself.

    still smiling,
    a: he lit a
    b: he poured
    c: gave the blade

  7. Monday, July 9, 2012

    charles bukowski knew its a marathon, not a sprint 


    we know this because he never sweated the small stuff

    he took his time.

    he hit his stride in his 50s.

    for years he lived just blocks away from where i write you tonight.

    on warm nights like tonight i bet he would do just what we’re all doing

    prop up the window, fire up the xbox

    and watch don draper on netflix

    struggle with his riches.

    theres nights when im all how did bukowski deal with crap like this

    and then theres nights like tonight.

  8. Saturday, April 7, 2012

    ask tony, the good saturday edition 

    american apparel

    Q. Hi Tony, I was at a concert last night and I realized that I had slept with have the band. I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?

    A. nah, you’re just sleepy.

    there was a full moon yesterday. things happened and i found myself taking a nap around 6:30pm. i woke up at 8ish.

    then i received a text message saying that my evening plans had been cancelled.

    even though it was with a beautiful woman, america, you have no idea how relieved i was.

    what’s wrong with me that i would rather sit around my house in my pajamas instead of enjoying a perfectly fine spring evening on the streets of LA in the company of an interesting person where anything could happen?

    i watched the dodgers angels and lakers games, ate chinese, inhaled m&ms and tweeted.

    vibe had a link to the new nicki minaj video.

    the way its lit, and her clothes, and the makeup, and the extreme curviness of her body, well

    i had to turn it off because it was Good Friday, a day many Christians believe to be holier than Easter or Christmas, and i didn’t want any of my unholy thoughts

    to bubble.

    but i did tweet this:

    I would totally take @nickimanaj to the pizza place tonight. Show her the moon. Shake some extra cheese on her slice n stuff.

    which made me wonder: do i love nicki? or do i love the idea of having pizza with her?

    if i had a back to the future machine i would bring back a 25 year old charles bukowski

    and have him take nicki manaj to the race track

    while tolouse latrech painted it.

    and afterwards the clash would play.

    pretty sure in heaven you can ask for stuff like that.

  9. Monday, March 19, 2012

    the ghost of charles bukowski haunts my hollywood bungalo 

    he says

    i know some times you try to be like me

    dont do it.

    he whispers i wasnt all that happy you know

    he pushes me away from the west side

    he nudges me from going into the val

    the ghost of charles bukowski hides the remotes from my tv

    and doesnt really want me to get another tv, this one for the living room

    because he likes the fact that when the ladies come over, if they wanna watch tv

    they have to go in the bedroom and sit on the bed

    because if theres one thing your favorite writer enjoyed it was rooms

    with no couches no chairs no nonsense

    just music and wine and a bed

    and a writer

    and a subject.

    todays subject is love.

    just like every day.

  10. Monday, October 24, 2011

    happy birthday Gisselle 

    mariettes party

    the message was

    the boss will meet you at Gisselle’s birthday party

    i was all i dont know no one named damn Gisselle

    but i was in the neighborhood anyway

    and when i saw the sign i was all, omg i know whose birthday it is today

    drove two blocks down, tossed my keys to the valet

    a gentleman cracked open the front door of the house a smidge and said recite me a poem

    i said one of mine?

    he said you wanna get in, dont ya.

    so i was all, ah right, ok heres one by bukowski

    I met a genius on the train
    about 6 years old,
    he sat beside me
    and as the train
    ran down along the coast
    we came to the ocean
    and then he looked at me
    and said,
    it’s not pretty.

    and the door opened.