Sunday, April 20, 2008

Buk, Rhymes with Puke


One of my very favorite authors was Charles Bukowski. He considered himself the equal of Ernest Hemingway. I agree. His work is amazingly easy to read and impossible to duplicate effectively. I've seen others try. I know better than to attempt that.

One of the messages his work sent to me is that this life is oh-so-freaking short. All we have that is our own is our time. So don't let other people dick around with your time. Just don't. It's like allowing a tick to settle in your armpit, or a leech to attach itself to your ankle. Maybe it's worse than that.

Today, I pissed away almost an entire day doing nothing so much as allowing my time to be stolen. My life force to be siphoned off for...well, for nothing.

I'll crack open a beer this evening and raise a toast to Charles Bukowski.

Buk.

Rhymes with puke.

2 comments:

  1. I've never read any Buk. Any suggestions on where to start?

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  2. Just about anywhere, actually. POST OFFICE is a good place. Grab any of his collections, poetry or short stories. He was quite prolific. The quality of his work remained good throughout his life.

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