[ElJefe]

I just read Women. I didn't like it as much as Post Man and Ham on Rye, the plot was way too thin. Basically it's just a long list of field reports where he gives us a clear view of the virtue of pre-selection (by other females) and how little appearances matter when a girl has decided you're attractive. If she likes you, it becomes more a game of "don't fuck up" then anything more sinister.

[RXB]

I think "Women" and "Pulp" are his two worst works. "Women" isn't horrible, and it does give a pretty good idea as to how fame plays into relationships.

[Chase]

I'm half-way through the audiobook. The plot is kind of random, still interesting enough. I just find the speaker of the version I got from audible, Christian Baskous, annoyingly monotonous.

[Collide]

I read Women because I was told on here it was red pill. Its not very enlightening at all. A semi famous writer hooks up with a bunch of groupie sluts because they know him. That's not very surprising. His entire life became excessive drinking and fucking to the point where it was just sad. If anything it turned me off a bit from the lifestyle.

For purely entertainment value it doesn't really hold up either. It becomes repetetive very fast. If you read the first 30 pages then you've read the entire book.

Fame game is perhaps the least interesting form of game.

[thirty-six]

"The Pleasures of the Damned" is a nice anthology of his prose. I always keep it lying around and enjoy flipping through it now and again and taking a hit.

[Art Pimp]

Don't sleep on his poetry...

"my groupie"

I read last Saturday in the
redwoods outside of Santa Cruz
and I was about 3/4's finished
when I heard a long high scream
and a quite attractive
young girl came running toward me
long gown & divine eyes of fire
and she leaped up on the stage
and screamed: "I WANT YOU!
I WANT YOU! TAKE ME! TAKE
ME!"

I told her, "look, get the hell
away from me."
but she kept tearing at my
clothing and throwing herself
at me.
"where were you," I
asked her, "when I was living
on one candy bar a day and
sending short stories to the
Atlantic Monthly?"

she grabbed my balls and almost
twisted them off. her kisses
tasted like shitsoup.
2 women jumped up on the stage
and
carried her off into the
woods.
I could still hear her screams
as I began the next poem.

maybe, I thought, I should have
taken her on stage in front
of all those eyes.
but one can never be sure
whether it's good poetry or
bad acid.

[ElJefe]

Anyone else notice that the character's name in Women was Hank, and bore a striking similarity to Hank Moody of Californication fame?

[iamdegaussed]

(02-03-2014 04:33 PM)Collide Wrote:  

I read Women because I was told on here it was red pill. Its not very enlightening at all. A semi famous writer hooks up with a bunch of groupie sluts because they know him. That's not very surprising. His entire life became excessive drinking and fucking to the point where it was just sad. If anything it turned me off a bit from the lifestyle.

For purely entertainment value it doesn't really hold up either. It becomes repetetive very fast. If you read the first 30 pages then you've read the entire book.

Fame game is perhaps the least interesting form of game.

You shouldn't have read Women first. Read Ham on Rye and ESPECIALLY Post Office first. If you just read Women you're not getting the crucial first part of the story to see where he came from and why he's so disillusioned with women and how fucking easy they are and how all they care about is fame and materialistic shit.

That said, I didn't enjoy Women nearly as much as Post Office either. It does indeed get repetitive.

[AntiTrace]

(02-05-2014 04:54 AM)ElJefe Wrote:  

Anyone else notice that the character's name in Women was Hank, and bore a striking similarity to Hank Moody of Californication fame?

its no secret Moody is heavily modeled after Bukowski.

i've read most of his novels, Ham on Rye was my favorite. It literally had me laughing out loud in a coffee shop at points.

[Farmageddon]

I'm in the middle of "Hollywood" right now and came across this passage; it reminded me of you guys.
   

[Beyond Borders]

(02-10-2014 01:36 PM)Farmageddon Wrote:  

I'm in the middle of "Hollywood" right now and came across this passage; it reminded me of you guys.

Don't worry, Bukowski - we're back!

[renotime]

I read factotum. Maybe it went over my head, but I thought it was awful.

This, on the other hand, is fucking brilliant and beautiful.

[Veloce]

One of my favorite poems by him ^^^

Bukowski got me through some rough years. There were some incredibly lonely nights, with god knows how many beers and shots of whatever, laying on my floor with a half-dead plant as my companion, not a woman in sight, just staring at the ceiling, listening to Beethoven, and reading Bukowski.

It was a $700/month studio in Hollywood and my upstairs neighbor was a 250 lb gay black dude who would bring other dudes back and they'd fuck until 3-4AM sometimes. It shook my entire room and was fucking terrible.

"Last Night of the Earth" poems especially helped me out. It was like having a drunk best friend that really understood you. The best part about reading Bukowski is watching him change throughout his years. You're right there with him when he's rock bottom in flophouses in random towns, and then he still keeps his edge even when he's living in a nice house in San Pedro. He never dumbed it down or sold out or tried to appeal to anything. Just drank and let the words hit the paper the best they could.

[samsonlackawanna]

(02-13-2014 01:32 AM)thedude3737 Wrote:  

Bukowski got me through some rough years. There were some incredibly lonely nights, with god knows how many beers and shots of whatever, laying on my floor with a half-dead plant as my companion, not a woman in sight, just staring at the ceiling, listening to Beethoven, and reading Bukowski.

Same here. I've got a gem here that is about as close to summing up the blue-pill-shattering to red-pill-awakening experience as I can imagine:

liberated woman and liberated man

look there.
the one you considered killing yourself
for.
you saw her the other day getting out of her car
in the Safeway parking lot.
she was wearing a torn green
dress and old dirty
boots
her face raw with living.
she saw you
so you walked over
and spoke and then
listened.
her hair did not glisten
her eyes and her conversation were
dull.
where was she?
where had she gone?
the one you were going to kill yourself
for?

the conversation finished
she walked into the store
and you looked at her automobile
and even that
which used to drive up and park
in front of your door
with such verve and in a spirit of
adventure
now looked
like a junkyard
joke.

you decide not to shop at
Safeway
you'll drive 6 blocks
east and buy what you need
at Ralphs.

getting into your car
you are quite pleased that
you didn't
kill yourself;
everything is delightful and
the air is clear.
your hands on the wheel,
you grin as you check for traffic in
the rearview mirror.

my man, you think,
you've saved yourself
for somebody else, but
who?

a slim young creature walks by
in a miniskirt and sandals
showing a marvelous leg.
she's going in to shop at Safeway
too.

you turn off the engine and
follow her in.

[Duke Castile]

I read a lot of Bukowski when I was in the Army. Whatever anyone says, that's a lonely, shitty, environment.

Stuck in the barracks with guys you love but you also want to kill.

Coming home from a deployment and seeing all the married guys' wives and families waiting for them and you're headed back to nobody.

Girls near military towns understandably hate GI's and if you're in the Army it's a huge cockblock.

I started reading him and maybe it made things worse, but at least I had a buddy with me that was also miserable.

I remember I started drinking 7 and 7s for awhile because of him.

I used to drink in this dive bar called Time Out. One of the guys was banging the skunk waitress and we got served for free all night.

The down side is because of that no one ever wanted to go anyplace else.

The good side of that was I started going out solo early on.

I'm a smudge of excrement on a tissue surging out to sea with a million tons of raw sewage.

[Beyond Borders]

(02-14-2014 10:14 PM)Fisto Wrote:  

I'm a smudge of excrement on a tissue surging out to sea with a million tons of raw sewage.

Yes.

[3extra]

''You lose what individualism you have, if you have enough of course, you retain some of it, but most dont have enough, so they become watchers of game shows, y’know, things like that. Then you work the 8 hour job with almost a feeling of goodness, like you’re doing something, and you get married, like marriage is a victory and you have children like having children is a victory, but most things people do are a total grind, marriage, birth, children, it’s something they have to do because they have nothing else to do. There is no glory in it, no esteem, no fire, their lives are flat and the earth is full of them. Sorry, but thats the way I see it.''

[ElJefe]

I have to admire these artists for the ability to express feeling, but I simply shudder at the idea that anyone with a smidgin of intellectual depth would take the opinion like the one above seriously.

The amount of time, investment, and money it takes to successfully raise the next generation well is mind-boggling and easily the most altruistic thing you can do with your life. Any fuck-face can knock up a bitch. It takes real character to see the job through. Modern women do not help in that regard.

I doubt I myself have that character.

[The Lizard of Oz]

(02-17-2014 06:56 PM)ElJefe Wrote:  

I have to admire these artists for the ability to express feeling, but I simply shudder at the idea that anyone with a smidgin of intellectual depth would take the opinion like the one above seriously.

The amount of time, investment, and money it takes to successfully raise the next generation well is mind-boggling and easily the most altruistic thing you can do with your life. Any fuck-face can knock up a bitch. It takes real character to see the job through. Modern women do not help in that regard.

I doubt I myself have that character.

ElJefe, this is an excellent post.

Few men are able to hold these two ideas in mind at once: giving the artist his due for his ability to express a feeling, while at the same time recognizing how shallow, confused or outright ludicrous the thought behind the feeling really is.

[getdownonit]

No love for Factotum? Of course Post Office and Ham on Rye are his best works, with Women mostly good as entertainment. Haven't yet read Pulp.

His poetry, which I've just started to get into, is fantastic. Love is a Dog from Hell has some great tales and insights into red pill and game lifestyle. It's also a great opener or closer with the ladies. "Oh what are you reading" "It's a book of poetry" "Oh really? Show me" etc. Then bam,

how to be a great writer

you've got to fuck a great many women
beautiful women
and write a few decent love poems.
and don't worry about age
and/or freshly-arrived talents.
just drink more beer
more and more beer
and attend the racetrack at least once a
week
and win
if possible
learning to win is hard -
any slob can be a good loser.
and don't forget your Brahms
and your Bach and your
beer.
don't overexercise.
sleep until noon.
avoid paying credit cards
or paying for anything on
time.
remember that there isn't a piece of ass
in this world over $50
(in 1977).
and if you have the ability to love
love yourself first
but always be aware of the possibility of
total defeat
whether the reason for that defeat
seems right or wrong -
an early taste of death is not necessarily
a bad thing.
stay out of churches and bars and museums,
and like the spider be
patient -
time is everybody's cross,
plus
exile
defeat
treachery
all that dross.
stay with the beer.
beer is continuous blood.
a continuous lover.
get a large typewriter
and as the footsteps go up and down
outside your window
hit that thing
hit it hard
make it a heavyweight fight
make it the bull when he first charges in
and remember the old dogs
who fought so well:
Hemingway, Celine, Dostoevsky, Hamsun.
If you think they didn't go crazy
in tiny rooms
just like you're doing now
without women
without food
without hope
then you're not ready.
drink more beer.
there's time.
and if there's not
that's all right
too.

[Hedonistic Traveler]

(11-01-2014 08:21 PM)getdownonit Wrote:  

No love for Factotum? Of course Post Office and Ham on Rye are his best works, with Women mostly good as entertainment. Haven't yet read Pulp.

I haven't done Factotum yet. I've heard good things though. So far I've done "Women", "Post Office", and "Ham on Rye", plus some random poetry.

I think he was a good writer, great at what he did. So many people read his stuff and think they could write something just as good, but it's harder than it looks to come across as sincere.

Any big Bukowski fan should check out John Fante(my avatar). "Ask the Dust" is his best work and inspired Bukowski to begin writing.

Also my favorite poem by him is "To the Whore Who Stole my Poems",

some say we should keep personal remorse from the
poem,
stay abstract, and there is some reason in this,
but jezus;
twelve poems gone and I don't keep carbons and you have
my
paintings too, my best ones; its stifling:
are you trying to crush me out like the rest of them?
why didn't you take my money? they usually do
from the sleeping drunken pants sick in the corner.
next time take my left arm or a fifty
but not my poems:
I'm not Shakespeare
but sometime simply
there won't be any more, abstract or otherwise;
there'll always be money and whores and drunkards
down to the last bomb,
but as God said,
crossing his legs,
I see where I have made plenty of poets
but not so very much
poetry.

[bohemianbuzzed]

His best poetry collections were Burning In Water Drowning In Flames, and The Last Night Of The Earth Poems. My favorite from Burning was

a literary romance

I met her somehow through correspondence or poetry or magazines
and she began sending me very sexy poems about rape and lust,
and this being mixed in with a minor intellectualism
confused me somewhat and I got in my car and drove North
through the mountains and valleys and freeways
without sleep, coming off a drunk, just divorced,
jobless, aging, tired, wanting mostly to sleep
for five or ten years, I finally found the motel
in a small sunny town by a dirt road,
and I sat there smoking a cigarette
thinking, you must really be insane,
and then I got out an hour late
to meet my date; she was pretty damned old,
almost as old as I, not very sexy
and she gave me a very hard raw apple
which I chewed on with my remaining teeth;
she was dying of some unnamed disease
something like asthma, and she said,
I want to tell you a secret, and I said,
I know: you are a virgin, 35 years old.
and she got out a notebook, ten or twelve poems:
a life's work and I had to read them
and I tried to be kind
but they were very bad.
and I took her somewhere, the boxing matches,
and she coughed in the smoke
and kept looking around and around
at all the people
and then the fighters
clenching her hands.
you never get excited, do you? she asked.
but I got pretty excited in the hills that night,
and met her three or four more times
helped her with some of her poems
and she rammed her tongue halfway down my throat
but when I left her
she was still a virgin
and a very bad poetess.
I think that when a woman has kept her legs closed

for 35 years
it's too late
either for love
or for
poetry.

[Tokyo Joe]

Bump.

Only a handful of Bukowski's poems ever truly moved me, but this one has a shine and strikes me as fitting for the RVFer -- who you might say is almost defined by his commitment to beating the death-in-life. (Youtube clip of a recitation by Tom Waits follows the text.)

The Laughing Heart

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

[Lucky]

(02-03-2014 07:16 AM)ElJefe Wrote:  

I just read Women. I didn't like it as much as Post Man and Ham on Rye, the plot was way too thin. Basically it's just a long list of field reports where he gives us a clear view of the virtue of pre-selection (by other females) and how little appearances matter when a girl has decided you're attractive. If she likes you, it becomes more a game of "don't fuck up" then anything more sinister.

I tried to read Women a couple of years ago and basically had the same opinion. I got about halfway through and just couldn't get into it.

What Bukowski book would you guys most recommend?

I'd like to try some of his other work.

[RockHard]

I recently picked up "Pulp" at the library and thought it was awful. Like a bad Elmore Leonard ripoff.

A friend in college was really into Buk and got me turned on to his poetry. I haven't read any of his novels yet, Pulp was crap.

A tip: Spotify has a bunch of his spoken word recordings. It's something else to hear him read his own shit: https://open.spotify.com/artist/3F8lOwDiDfocMHdEorwWWH