I go to Bukowski to learn how to be a man--a big man with big appetite and coarseness and messiness. Not, I mean, so I can practice being a man but so that I can feel in some instances what it might be like to be loose like that and strong. And so that I can escape my own regrets from time to time. He makes me see the humor in getting it all wrong. I leave the cap off the whiskey when he's around.
p. 208
I was young but always alone--I felt that I needed the time to get something done and the only way I could buy time was with poverty.
Yeah, also he brings back something about my old days. I never needed time and poverty to get things done, but I know people who did. I have only ever needed time just to get things through my mind. Or at least that is how it feels.
I think that piece of the book I wrote down was maybe the weakest sentence. I wrote it down because I wanted to send it to a friend--maybe write it on a napkin or a bag that used to hold coffee and send it to a friend. I didn't feel educated by this sentence, but it gave me a strong memory. I like better and feel more educated by his confrontations with objects and with people. He seems very certain that he is more solid than anything he encounters. I admire that.
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