Charles Bukowski - Some People
some people never go crazy. me, sometimes I'll lie down behind the couch for 3 or 4 days. they'll find me there. it's Cherub, they'll say, and they pour wine down my throat rub my chest sprinkle me with oils. then, I'll rise with a roar, rant, rage - curse them and the universe as I send them scattering over the lawn. I'll feel much better, sit down to toast and eggs, hum a little tune, suddenly become as lovable as a pink overfed whale. some people never go crazy. what truly horrible lives they must lead.
How can one man be so honest. Its the kind of honesty that you can’t just have. It seems like a simple thing, it seems like everyone can be honest. It seems like all you have to do is tell the truth, to take the world as it is, but he does it in such a way that when I read his work I realize that I am lying to myself, about simple things. Things that there are no reason to lie to myself about but yet subconsciously we do. I just wish that I could be as honest with himself as Bukowski is with the world.
“Having being beaten without reason, with that stroup, was great literary training”
Interviewer: “What is the link, between being beaten and learning how to write?”
“When you get the shit kicked out of you long enough, you have a tendency to say what you really mean, you are honest, you have all of the pre-tense beaten out of you. I guess my father was a great litarary teacher. He tought me pain without reason. He beat the pre-tense out of me.