Posted: October 7, 2011 in transliteration
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“I disliked them all immediately, sitting around acting clever and superior. They nullified each other. The worst thing for a writer is to know another writer, and worse than that, to know a number of writers. Like flies on the same turd.”

-Bukowski. Women. 1978. New York: HarperCollins, 2002. 53.

Like Vonnegut, Moore, and Adams; Bukowski is a surefire literary phishing device. It’s the equivalent of asking a pre-teen if they’ve read Stephan King, or that fucking Twilight Series…or Harry Potter. A reference point.

Bukowski was not my first choice. I’m not a huge fan. Never mind why. We all have our preferences.

I started with Dostoevsky, Camus, and then Celine, followed by a biography about the most amazing Russian man alive.
Edward Albee, Flannery O’Connor and only then Douglas Adams.
Finally, you bit with Bukowski.
I’m reading his work now, because I’m emotionally exhausted and needed something light.
You didn’t bite hard. Although you referred to him as amazing, you were not aware that he wrote novels and short stories in addition to poetry.
I found that disappointing, because I prefer the short stories to the poems.
They’re all a comfortable, quick read; but again, we all have our preferences.
There’s no accounting for taste, but at least it can be cataloged.

I wondered at that, have you bothered to read more than one or two of his poems?

I shouldn’t be interested in you at all.
You have an exclusive live-in girlfriend that’s four years younger than me and twelve years younger than you, and you work the same dead-end day job that I do. You don’t even have anything going on the side.

I’ve met her, by the way.
Your girlfriend.
She wasn’t at all what I expected.
The encounter actually cheered me up considerably.

I’ll be able to host again soon.
Why don’t you bring her along?


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