horses running with her miles away laughing with a fool Bach and the hydrogen bomb
we’d had any number of joints and… beer and I was on the bed stretche… and she said, “look, I’ve had 3 ab… in a row, real fast, and I’m sick… abortions, I don’t want you to sti…
“I’ve made it,” she said, “I’ve c… through.” she had on new boots, pa… and a white sweater. “I know what… want now.” she was from Chicago an… had settled in L.A.’s Fairfax dis…
all I’ve ever known are whores, ex… madwomen. I see men with quiet, gentle women—I see them in the sup… I see them walking down the street… I see them in their apartments: pe…
I know that some night in some bedroom soon my fingers will rift
this poet he’d been drinking 2 or 3 days and he walked out on the stage and looked at that audience and he just knew he was going to do it. there was a grand piano on stage and he walke...
big sloppy wounded dog hit by a car and walking toward the curbing making enormous sounds
Vallejo writing about loneliness while starving to death; Van Gogh’s ear rejected by a whore;
we talk about this film: Cagney fed this broad grapefruit faster than she could eat it and
big black beard tells me that I don’t feel terror I look at him
sitting with the professors we talk about Allen Tate and John Crow Ransom the rugs are clean and the coffeetables shine
don’t worry about rejections, pard… I’ve been rejected before. sometimes you make a mistake, taki… the wrong poem
you’ve got to fuck a great many wo… beautiful women and write a few decent love poems. and don’t worry about age and/or freshly-arrived talents.
drinking 15 dollar champagne— Cordon Rouge—with the hookers. one is named Georgia and she doesn’t like pantyhose: I keep helping her pull up
the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there and sometimes a soul, and the women break
they’d come around and they’d ask “you finished your 2nd novel yet?” “no.”
this is my piano. the phone rings and people ask, what are you doing? how about getting drunk with us? and I say,
she sits up there drinking wine while her husband is at work. she puts quite
the cockroach crouched against the tile while I was pissing and as I turned my head he hauled his butt
I was shacked with a 24 year old girl from New York City for two weeks—about the time of the garbage
listening to Bruckner on the radio wondering why I’m not half mad over the latest breakup with my latest girlfriend wondering why I’m not driving the…
the old folks play a game in the park overlooking the sea shoving markers across cement with wooden sticks. four play, two on each side
I get many phonecalls now. They are all alike. “are you Charles Bukowski, the writer?” “yes,” I tell them.
they photograph you on your porch and on your couch and standing in the courtyard or leaning against your car these photographers
the blue pencil of the wave shots of yellow road a steering wheel an insane woman sitting next to you
I have a saying, “the tough ones a… back.” but Vera was kinder than most, and so I was surprised when she arrived that night
in the hospitals and jails it’s the worst in madhouses it’s the worst in penthouses
cigarettes wetted with beer from the night before you light one gag open the door for air
what’s bad about all this is watching people drinking coffee and waiting. I would
a single dog walking alone on a hot sidewalk of summer appears to have the power of ten thousand gods.
