If you're going to try, go..
If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise don't even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs. And maybe your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery, isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance. Of how much you really want to do it. And you'll do it, despite rejection in the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods. And the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is.
Viens no maniem mīļākajiem..
Viens no maniem mīļākajiem Bukovska stāstiņiem - Six inches, no The most beautiful woman in town & other stories.
The first three months of my marriage to Sarah were acceptable but I'd
say a little after that our troubles began. She was a good cook, and for the
first time in years I was eating well. I began to put on weight. And Sarah
began to make remarks.
"Ah, Henry, you're beginning to look like a turkey they're plumping for
Thanksgiving."
( Turpināt lasīt. )
Pāršķirstot bukowski,..
Pāršķirstot bukowski, sagribējās iedzert un uzpīpēt.
Turpinājumā - Barfly..
Turpinājumā - Barfly (1987).
treileris.
I guess he just wants to be..
I guess he just wants to be at the racetrack, somehow, just to be there. It means something to him even if he continues to lose. Itīs a place to be. A mad dream. But itīs boring there. Agroggy place. Everybody thinking that they alone know the angle. Dumb lost egos. Iīm one of those. Only itīs a hobby for me. I think. I hope. But there is something there, if only in a short time frame, very short, a flash, like when my horse is in the run and then it does it. I see it happening. There is a high, a lift. Life becomes almost sensible when the horses do your bidding. But the spaces in between are very flat. People standing about. Most of them losers. They begin to look dry as dust. They are sucked dry. Yet, you know, when I force myself to stay home I begin to feel very listless, sick, useless. Itīs strange. The nights are always all right, I type at night. But the days have to gotten rid of. Iīm sick too in a way. I am not facing reality. But who the hell wants to?