Tuesday, August 14, 2018

I Figure He Can Always Come Over with His Violin and More Sad Music

  • Above better at other place (or click the hoisted Olive to the left just up).
  • I love vacation with Earthgirl, we talk the next while hiking the current.
  • I vacation suck, can't read sleep write eat.
  • Home, vacation digested, more fun at the time than I thought!
  • Photo above, last from last week's Acadia, thirty-seven years ago past Friday.


Charles Bukowski

he lives in a house with a swimming pool
and says the job is
killing him.
he is 27. I am 44. I can’t seem to
get rid of
him. his novels keep coming
back. “what do you expect me to do?” he screams
“go to New York and pump the hands of the
“no,” I tell him, “but quit your job, go into a
small room and do the
“but I need ASSURANCE, I need something to
go by, some word, some sign!”
“some men did not think that way:
Van Gogh, Wagner—”
“oh hell, Van Gogh had a brother who gave him
paints whenever he
needed them!”
“look,” he said, “I’m over at this broad’s house today and
this guy walks in. a salesman. you know
how they talk. drove up in this new
car. talked about his vacation. said he went to
Frisco—saw Fidelio up there but forgot who
wrote it. now this guy is 54 years
old. so I told him: ‘Fidelio is Beethoven’s only
opera.’ and then I told
him: ‘you’re a jerk!’ ‘whatcha mean?’ he
asked. ‘I mean, you’re a jerk, you’re 54 years old and
you don’t know anything!’”
“what happened
“I walked out.”
“you mean you left him there with
“I can’t quit my job,” he said. “I always have trouble getting a
job. I walk in, they look at me, listen to me talk and
they think right away, ah ha! he’s too intelligent for
this job, he won’t stay
so there’s really no sense in hiring
now, YOU walk into a place and you don’t have any trouble:
you look like an old wino, you look like a guy who needs a
job and they look at you and they think:
ah ha!: now here’s a guy who really needs work! if we hire
him he’ll stay a long time and work
“do any of those people,” he asks “know you are a
writer, that you write poetry?”
“you never talk about
it. not even to
me! if I hadn’t seen you in that magazine I’d
have never known.”
“that’s right.”
“still, I’d like to tell these people that you are a
“I’d still like to
tell them.”
“well, they talk about you. they think you are just a
horseplayer and a drunk.”
“I am both of those.”
“well, they talk about you. you have odd ways. you travel alone.
I’m the only friend you
“they talk you down. I’d like to defend you. I’d like to tell
them you write
“leave it alone. I work here like they
do. we’re all the same.”
“well, I’d like to do it for myself then. I want them to know why
I travel with
you. I speak 7 languages, I know my music—”
“forget it.”
“all right, I’ll respect your
wishes. but there’s something else—”
“I’ve been thinking about getting a
piano. but then I’ve been thinking about getting a
violin too but I can’t make up my
“buy a piano.”
“you think
he walks away
thinking about
I was thinking about it
too: I figure he can always come over with his
violin and more
sad music.


  1. I like Bukowski but there's no such place as Frisco. Why can't Marrkuns articulate? In America the word mirror becomes meer. I looked in the meer. Then I went to Nyork to see the Empire State building. I was born in upstate Nyork. And I suppose we could call New Jersey Nersey. Chicago becomes Cago. New Orleans is now pronounced Norlins. Los Angeles is now Langles with a hard g. The French and Germans can articulate but not Marrkuns. It's like we're born with lazy mouths that we can hardly move without great effort. Mumblygurglemmmmph could mean anything but who knows.

  2. i agree with bukowski piano is a better choice for a beginner than violin it is a lot easier to play