mjp -- you made me laugh again. Yes, meet your hero, your idol, your literary god, and then have him spit in your face. You're fucked! On the money. That experience messed with my head for about 20 years. Then I grew up and realized it made no real difference. I was a dumb punk college kid who didn't know up from down, he was a great writer but a flawed human being (aren't we all flawed?), and it was a meaningless event, all told. I do value having had firsthand experience of him, having been around such a fascinating, creative, intelligent, troubled, complex, messed up, beautiful person. He was not an easy guy to be around. Intimidating as hell. I went to a rough junior high school, was used to being around bad-ass hoodlum types, knew how to keep from getting my ass kicked by them, but Buk was as bad as any of those guys -- or at least he was a master at making you think he was that bad -- and he made me nervous as hell. I think it would have been easier meeting, say, Ginsberg. Wait a minute ... I did meet Ginsberg, and it was easy. Bukowski had a chip on his shoulder, was always out to prove something, always looking for a target. Unfortunately, he seems to have been someone who pumped himself up at other's expense, at least when drinking and when in his public persona. He had guys like me for breakfast. Had I known this in advance, I never would have had the guts to meet him, never would have done the things that set me up as a good target. Ah well, live and learn. It's all good. I don't take it too seriously. And let me be clear: I still admire the man immensely, as an artist. I don't admire much of anyone as a human being. We are a sorry lot, except for a couple of true saints I've met, who aren't artists, aren't famous, and pass among us unrecognized for what they truly are.
