Buk's d.t.'s (1 Viewer)

Ever wonder why Buk never spoke about drying out? There had to be times when he went thru the shakes/delirium tremens, yet I've never found a passage directly relating to them.

Strange that a man who was so open and self-effacing never described what it was like.

Too caught up in the tough guy image?
 
he sure spoke about drying out, though he didn't describe the effects. he also went thru' TB, cataracts surgery, etc, and he never described in detail the effects. As always, he just mentioned in passing what he felt...
 
I remember at least one passage coming close to what you mention:

"Well, Lou was true to his word. I didn't see him for some time, not
even on weekends, and meanwhile I was going through a kind of personal hell.
I was very jumpy, nerves gone -- a little noise and I'd jump out of my skin.
I was afraid to go to sleep: nightmare after nightmare, each more terrible
than the one which preceded it. You were all right if you went to sleep
totally drunk, that was all right, but if you went to sleep half-drunk or,
worse, sober, then the dreams began, only you were never sure whether you
were sleeping or whether the action was taking place in the room, for when
you slept you dreamed the entire room, the dirty dishes, the mice, the
folding walls, the pair of shit-in pants some whore had left on the floor,
the dripping faucet, the moon like a bullet out there, cars full of the
sober and well-fed, shining headlights through your window, everything,
everything, you were in some sort of dark corner, dark dark, no help, no
reason, no no reason at all, dark sweating corner, darkness and filth, the
stench of reality, the stink of everything: spiders, eyes, landladies,
sidewalks, bars, buildings, grass, no grass, light, no light, nothing
belonging to you. The pink elephants never showed up but plenty of little
men with savage tricks or a looming big man to strangle you or sink his
teeth into the back of your neck, lay on your back and you sweating, unable
to move, this black stinking hairy thing laying there on you on you on you."

From "The Way The Dead Love"
 
Wow that's great writing. That shit has happened to me, you go to bed half drunk or sober and nightmares about random shit, waking up terrified and covered in sweat. Anyone else?
 
Wow that's great writing. That shit has happened to me, you go to bed half drunk or sober and nightmares about random shit, waking up terrified and covered in sweat. Anyone else?

Keep a bedside bottle. Waking up with the horrors is even worse than having them hit you during the day.
 
I remember at least one passage coming close to what you mention:

"Well, Lou was true to his word. I didn't see him for some time, not
even on weekends, and meanwhile I was going through a kind of personal hell.
I was very jumpy, nerves gone -- a little noise and I'd jump out of my skin.
I was afraid to go to sleep: nightmare after nightmare, each more terrible
than the one which preceded it. You were all right if you went to sleep
totally drunk, that was all right, but if you went to sleep half-drunk or,
worse, sober, then the dreams began, only you were never sure whether you
were sleeping or whether the action was taking place in the room, for when
you slept you dreamed the entire room, the dirty dishes, the mice, the
folding walls, the pair of shit-in pants some whore had left on the floor,
the dripping faucet, the moon like a bullet out there, cars full of the
sober and well-fed, shining headlights through your window, everything,
everything, you were in some sort of dark corner, dark dark, no help, no
reason, no no reason at all, dark sweating corner, darkness and filth, the
stench of reality, the stink of everything: spiders, eyes, landladies,
sidewalks, bars, buildings, grass, no grass, light, no light, nothing
belonging to you. The pink elephants never showed up but plenty of little
men with savage tricks or a looming big man to strangle you or sink his
teeth into the back of your neck, lay on your back and you sweating, unable
to move, this black stinking hairy thing laying there on you on you on you."

From "The Way The Dead Love"

Incredible, masterful description... such a "nice" "cozy" "home" ... with those demons of hell as roomies... but a nightmare he was still able to get down on paper... chilling. Poe... eat your... tell-tale heart out...
 
Keep a bedside bottle. Waking up with the horrors is even worse than having them hit you during the day.

Wow that's great writing. That shit has happened to me, you go to bed half drunk or sober and nightmares about random shit, waking up terrified and covered in sweat. Anyone else?

Exactly...The way I see it. Buk may not have often explained the effects and focused on them, but as is...obvious here, when he did- he really did. I think that there shows a side to him that, perhaps, was trying to break through at times? away from the tough-man sort of type? just conjecture. you know. anyone else? heh
 

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