Charles Bukowski

ElJefe

Pelican
I just read Women. I didn't like it as much as Post Man and Ham on Rye, the plot was way too thin. Basically it's just a long list of field reports where he gives us a clear view of the virtue of pre-selection (by other females) and how little appearances matter when a girl has decided you're attractive. If she likes you, it becomes more a game of "don't fuck up" then anything more sinister.
 

RXB

Woodpecker
I think "Women" and "Pulp" are his two worst works. "Women" isn't horrible, and it does give a pretty good idea as to how fame plays into relationships.
 

Chase

Robin
I'm half-way through the audiobook. The plot is kind of random, still interesting enough. I just find the speaker of the version I got from audible, Christian Baskous, annoyingly monotonous.
 

Collide

Kingfisher
I read Women because I was told on here it was red pill. Its not very enlightening at all. A semi famous writer hooks up with a bunch of groupie sluts because they know him. That's not very surprising. His entire life became excessive drinking and fucking to the point where it was just sad. If anything it turned me off a bit from the lifestyle.

For purely entertainment value it doesn't really hold up either. It becomes repetetive very fast. If you read the first 30 pages then you've read the entire book.

Fame game is perhaps the least interesting form of game.
 

thirty-six

Robin
Gold Member
images


"The Pleasures of the Damned" is a nice anthology of his prose. I always keep it lying around and enjoy flipping through it now and again and taking a hit.
 
Don't sleep on his poetry...

"my groupie"

I read last Saturday in the
redwoods outside of Santa Cruz
and I was about 3/4's finished
when I heard a long high scream
and a quite attractive
young girl came running toward me
long gown & divine eyes of fire
and she leaped up on the stage
and screamed: "I WANT YOU!
I WANT YOU! TAKE ME! TAKE
ME!"

I told her, "look, get the hell
away from me."
but she kept tearing at my
clothing and throwing herself
at me.
"where were you," I
asked her, "when I was living
on one candy bar a day and
sending short stories to the
Atlantic Monthly?"

she grabbed my balls and almost
twisted them off. her kisses
tasted like shitsoup.
2 women jumped up on the stage
and
carried her off into the
woods.
I could still hear her screams
as I began the next poem.

maybe, I thought, I should have
taken her on stage in front
of all those eyes.
but one can never be sure
whether it's good poetry or
bad acid.
 

iamdegaussed

Kingfisher
Collide said:
I read Women because I was told on here it was red pill. Its not very enlightening at all. A semi famous writer hooks up with a bunch of groupie sluts because they know him. That's not very surprising. His entire life became excessive drinking and fucking to the point where it was just sad. If anything it turned me off a bit from the lifestyle.

For purely entertainment value it doesn't really hold up either. It becomes repetetive very fast. If you read the first 30 pages then you've read the entire book.

Fame game is perhaps the least interesting form of game.

You shouldn't have read Women first. Read Ham on Rye and ESPECIALLY Post Office first. If you just read Women you're not getting the crucial first part of the story to see where he came from and why he's so disillusioned with women and how fucking easy they are and how all they care about is fame and materialistic shit.

That said, I didn't enjoy Women nearly as much as Post Office either. It does indeed get repetitive.
 

AntiTrace

Ostrich
ElJefe said:
Anyone else notice that the character's name in Women was Hank, and bore a striking similarity to Hank Moody of Californication fame?

its no secret Moody is heavily modeled after Bukowski.

i've read most of his novels, Ham on Rye was my favorite. It literally had me laughing out loud in a coffee shop at points.
 

Evgenius

Woodpecker
I'm in the middle of "Hollywood" right now and came across this passage; it reminded me of you guys.
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renotime

Ostrich
Gold Member
I read factotum. Maybe it went over my head, but I thought it was awful.

This, on the other hand, is fucking brilliant and beautiful.

 

Veloce

Crow
Gold Member
One of my favorite poems by him ^^^

Bukowski got me through some rough years. There were some incredibly lonely nights, with god knows how many beers and shots of whatever, laying on my floor with a half-dead plant as my companion, not a woman in sight, just staring at the ceiling, listening to Beethoven, and reading Bukowski.

It was a $700/month studio in Hollywood and my upstairs neighbor was a 250 lb gay black dude who would bring other dudes back and they'd fuck until 3-4AM sometimes. It shook my entire room and was fucking terrible.

"Last Night of the Earth" poems especially helped me out. It was like having a drunk best friend that really understood you. The best part about reading Bukowski is watching him change throughout his years. You're right there with him when he's rock bottom in flophouses in random towns, and then he still keeps his edge even when he's living in a nice house in San Pedro. He never dumbed it down or sold out or tried to appeal to anything. Just drank and let the words hit the paper the best they could.
 
thedude3737 said:
Bukowski got me through some rough years. There were some incredibly lonely nights, with god knows how many beers and shots of whatever, laying on my floor with a half-dead plant as my companion, not a woman in sight, just staring at the ceiling, listening to Beethoven, and reading Bukowski.

Same here. I've got a gem here that is about as close to summing up the blue-pill-shattering to red-pill-awakening experience as I can imagine:

liberated woman and liberated man

look there.
the one you considered killing yourself
for.
you saw her the other day getting out of her car
in the Safeway parking lot.
she was wearing a torn green
dress and old dirty
boots
her face raw with living.
she saw you
so you walked over
and spoke and then
listened.
her hair did not glisten
her eyes and her conversation were
dull.
where was she?
where had she gone?
the one you were going to kill yourself
for?

the conversation finished
she walked into the store
and you looked at her automobile
and even that
which used to drive up and park
in front of your door
with such verve and in a spirit of
adventure
now looked
like a junkyard
joke.

you decide not to shop at
Safeway
you'll drive 6 blocks
east and buy what you need
at Ralphs.

getting into your car
you are quite pleased that
you didn't
kill yourself;
everything is delightful and
the air is clear.
your hands on the wheel,
you grin as you check for traffic in
the rearview mirror.

my man, you think,
you've saved yourself
for somebody else, but
who?

a slim young creature walks by
in a miniskirt and sandals
showing a marvelous leg.
she's going in to shop at Safeway
too.

you turn off the engine and
follow her in.
 

Duke Castile

Crow
Gold Member
I read a lot of Bukowski when I was in the Army. Whatever anyone says, that's a lonely, shitty, environment.

Stuck in the barracks with guys you love but you also want to kill.

Coming home from a deployment and seeing all the married guys' wives and families waiting for them and you're headed back to nobody.

Girls near military towns understandably hate GI's and if you're in the Army it's a huge cockblock.

I started reading him and maybe it made things worse, but at least I had a buddy with me that was also miserable.

I remember I started drinking 7 and 7s for awhile because of him.

I used to drink in this dive bar called Time Out. One of the guys was banging the skunk waitress and we got served for free all night.

The down side is because of that no one ever wanted to go anyplace else.

The good side of that was I started going out solo early on.

I'm a smudge of excrement on a tissue surging out to sea with a million tons of raw sewage.
 

3extra

Woodpecker

''You lose what individualism you have, if you have enough of course, you retain some of it, but most dont have enough, so they become watchers of game shows, y’know, things like that. Then you work the 8 hour job with almost a feeling of goodness, like you’re doing something, and you get married, like marriage is a victory and you have children like having children is a victory, but most things people do are a total grind, marriage, birth, children, it’s something they have to do because they have nothing else to do. There is no glory in it, no esteem, no fire, their lives are flat and the earth is full of them. Sorry, but thats the way I see it.''
 

ElJefe

Pelican
I have to admire these artists for the ability to express feeling, but I simply shudder at the idea that anyone with a smidgin of intellectual depth would take the opinion like the one above seriously.

The amount of time, investment, and money it takes to successfully raise the next generation well is mind-boggling and easily the most altruistic thing you can do with your life. Any fuck-face can knock up a bitch. It takes real character to see the job through. Modern women do not help in that regard.

I doubt I myself have that character.
 

The Lizard of Oz

Crow
Gold Member
ElJefe said:
I have to admire these artists for the ability to express feeling, but I simply shudder at the idea that anyone with a smidgin of intellectual depth would take the opinion like the one above seriously.

The amount of time, investment, and money it takes to successfully raise the next generation well is mind-boggling and easily the most altruistic thing you can do with your life. Any fuck-face can knock up a bitch. It takes real character to see the job through. Modern women do not help in that regard.

I doubt I myself have that character.

ElJefe, this is an excellent post.

Few men are able to hold these two ideas in mind at once: giving the artist his due for his ability to express a feeling, while at the same time recognizing how shallow, confused or outright ludicrous the thought behind the feeling really is.
 

getdownonit

Kingfisher
Gold Member
No love for Factotum? Of course Post Office and Ham on Rye are his best works, with Women mostly good as entertainment. Haven't yet read Pulp.

His poetry, which I've just started to get into, is fantastic. Love is a Dog from Hell has some great tales and insights into red pill and game lifestyle. It's also a great opener or closer with the ladies. "Oh what are you reading" "It's a book of poetry" "Oh really? Show me" etc. Then bam,

how to be a great writer

you'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 beer
and attend the racetrack at least once a
week
and 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 paying credit cards
or paying for anything on
time.
remember that there isn't a piece of ass
in this world 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
treachery
all that dross.
stay with the beer.
beer is continuous blood.
a continuous lover.
get a large typewriter
and as the footsteps go up and down
outside your window
hit that thing
hit it hard
make it a heavyweight fight
make it the bull when he first charges in
and remember the old dogs
who fought so well:
Hemingway, Celine, Dostoevsky, Hamsun.
If you think they didn't go crazy
in tiny rooms
just like you're doing now
without women
without food
without hope
then you're not ready.
drink more beer.
there's time.
and if there's not
that's all right
too.
 
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