Thursday, October 14, 2010

Bukowski; Something Like Warhol Said

Maybe I'll start naming all my posts as if they are episodes of Studio 360. (That's an inside joke that nobody will get. Does anyone listen to that show? Nobody ever talks about it except in the New Yorker. Not a good sign.)


"Either nobody's a beauty, or everyone is." Or something like it, I give myself permission to quote inaccurately and with impunity when not at work. 


I love Bukowski, he was such an unapologetic sentimental bastard. 


Me and him, we're saying the same thing. He's just being a badass about it.


The Secret
by Charles Bukowski


Don't Worry, nobody has the 
beautiful lady, not really, and
nobody has the strange and 
hidden power, nobody is
exceptional or wonderful or
magic, they only seem to be
it's all a trick, an in, a con,
don't buy it, don't believe it.
The world is packed with
billions of people whose lives
and deaths are useless and
when one of these jumps up
and the light of history shines
upon them, forget it, it's not 
what it seems, it's just 
another act to fool the fools
again.


There are no strong men, there
are no beautiful women.
At least, you can die knowing
this
and you will have 
the only possible
victory.




Just to prove that Bukowski was blowing smoke with all this angry alcoholic nihilism, I offer this rejoinder.


You Don't Know What Love Is (an evening with Charles Bukowski)
by Raymond Carver


You don't know what love is Bukowski said
I'm 51 years old look at me 
I'm in love with this young broad
I got it bad but she's hung up too
so it's all right man that's the way it should be
I get in their blood and they can't get me out
They try everything to get away from me
but they all come back in the end
They all came back to me except
the one I planted
I cried over that one
But I cried easy in those days
Don't get me onto the hard stuff man
I get mean then
I could sit here and drink beer
and nothing it's like water
But let me get onto the hard stuff
and I'll start throwing people out windows
I'll throw anybody out the window
I've done it
But you don't know what love is
You don't know because you've never
been in love it's that simple
I got this young broad see she's beautiful
She calls me Bukowski
Bukowski she says in this little voice
and I say What
But you don't know what love is
I'm telling you what it is
but you aren't listening


...


I'm 51 years old now and I'm in love
This little broad she says
I think you're full of shit
and I say baby you understand me
She's the only broad in the world 
man or woman
I'd take that from
But you don't know what love is
They all came back to me in the end too
Every one of em came back
except that one I told you about
the one I planted
We were together seven years
We used to drink a lot
I see a couple of typers in this room but
I don't see any poets
I'm not surprised
You have to have been in love to write poetry
and you don't know what it is to be in love
That's your trouble
Give me some of that stuff
That's right no ice good
that's good that's just fine
So let's get this show on the road
I know what I said but I'll have just one
That tastes good
Okay then let's go let's get this over with
Only afterwards don't anyone stand close
to an open window.

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