Random Thoughts that relate to Bukowski in some way (1 Viewer)

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Dear Bukowski People:

First time I met Bukowski was at Paul Vangelisti's house in LA. Who was this old character? I'd ever heard of him. All I remember was that he said to Vangelisti, "Be careful with my car, Paul -- it's my soul."

Next and last time was at a poetry reading in North Beach San Francisco. Compulsory heckling included and fully integrated into the show. Afterwards we went up to somebody's apartment; there was the Great Man, slumped but still standing, in the middle of the room. Head bowed, mostly silent, stoically enduring Fame. We were all standing in a circle around him with little to say, just watching him, as if he might at any moment sprout wings and fly away, or possibly puke. He did neither. Later he slipped out. As soon as he vacated the room the wet blanket was off the atmosphere; the group broke into literary criticism: "He's shot, he's washed up, sure his last book was OK but what's he written in the past 24 hours??"
I went outside, saw that Buke had retired to the curb with his beer, bent over the hood of his car, his soul. "They're all talking about how you're washed up, Mr. Bukowski; your 15 minutes is over", I said.

"Thank you", he replied.

Charles Upton
thank you,
that's a nice post. I like the "sprout wings and fly away".

It reminds me of something that Bukowski said somewhere, that people expected poets to walk around with flames coming out of their arses.
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I've got two more random thoughts for you. One thing I get a kick out of is how Buk washes his 'stockings.' He mentions his 'stockings' in so many poems and short stories it's astonishing. You can tell he's an old dude, an old timer. You can tell he was born in the 20's and lived through the 30's because he has 'stockings' on the brain. I read two books of his letters and they are mentioned there a lot as well. If he wanted to disparage some character he might say, "you could smell his stockings." I was reading something just a couple of days ago and I think it was "Run with the Hunted" and he said 'socks.' I couldn't believe it.

Here is another thing I find astonishing and I bit annoying because the guy could have saved some serious money and that is the way Hank only bought 6 packs!!! What's with this guy? Didn't he ever hear of buying a CASE of beer? Maybe mjp can help us with this one. Maybe there is some sort of California rule we don't know about. Or maybe back in Buk's day selling of cases was not allowed. Come in mjp and fill us in on this. The guy only ever bought two six packs and then he and Neeli Cherry would have to drive back out to buy two more six packs. Aaarrgghhh!
I can't believe nobody had anything to say about the 2 sixpacks vs. a case idea....

This random thought I have right now is more of a random occurance then a thought. Back when I was a kid in the 1960's and 1970's my Mom always had a class jar that was gross looking and it was gross looking because it was full of bacon grease. I asked my Mom why do we have that and she explained it was used for frying foods but I was too young to understand. As I got older and used it to make some scrabled eggs I got the idea of what it was used for.

Fast forward to the late 1970's and I realize one day that we no longer have the bacon grease jar. My Mom said we use butter now. About 6 months ago I was reading something of Buk's. I can't remember if it was a poem, short story, or maybe one of his letters but he mentioned that one of the things he had in his sparse kitchen was two jars of bacon grease. I had to have a laugh. It brought me back to old times. Keep in mind for Buk at the time it was probably the 1960's so it was normal to have bacon grease around.

So just for a laugh I decided to get a small plastic container to store some of my cooled down bacon grease. So now I've got some Bacon grease just to honor good ole' Buk. Well lately here in Eastern Pennsylvania we have been getting clobbered by snow storm after snow storm. Some of them, like this most recent one, have been heavy wet snow. I do snow removal for my landlord and my next door neighbor rents his place to 3 lawyers and they have a small parking lot and I also dig out my car and one or two neighbor cars and plus I just got a new customer, a karate place. I bust my ass out there clearing snow.

When I get done I like to have a hearty breafast of eggs, hashbrowns, and hopefully Sunday breakfast ham from Whole Foods. So I'm all set to go on breakfast and I realize I've got no God Damn butter #%@&*#%^

I am way, way too tired to go back outside and drive to the store. I am heart broken. What a fool I am. I can't count on myself to maintain butter inventory. You fool! Then I remember my commitment to Bukowski and the story of bacon fat and I look down to see my small container of bacon fat which saves the day.

I went from being really pissed and angry to so relieved and happy. Breakfast coming right up. Three cheers to Buk's bacon fat strategy.
There were a few words in some poems in "Betting on the Muse" that I didn't know the meaning of. Since I've got lots of spare time I figured I'd post the answers here. The first word is Gunny Sack. What the hell is that?

gun·ny·sack (gŭn′ē-săk′)
n. Chiefly Western U.S.
A bag or sack made of gunny. Also called regionally crocus sack, croker sack, tow bag, tow sack.
Regional Note: A large sack made from loosely woven, coarse material goes by a variety of names in regional American English. The most general term is burlap bag, known everywhere but used especially in the Northeast. In the Midwest and West the usual term is gunnysack, which ultimately comes from the Sanskrit word gonī, meaning "jute or hemp fiber." In the Upper South such a sack is called a tow sack, and in Eastern North Carolina, a tow bag. (The word tow is another synonym for fabric made from jute or hemp and probably derives from an Old English word for "spinning.") In South Carolina and adjacent parts of Georgia, it is called a crocus sack, and in the Gulf states, a croker sack, both terms deriving from the word crocus. According to Craig M. Carver, who draws on the research of Walter S. Avis, "Crocus is a coarse, loosely woven material once worn by slaves and laborers and common in colonial New England. It probably took its name from the sacks in which crocus or saffron was shipped." Though the term crocus sack virtually disappeared from New England by the end of the 19th century, it survives in the South.

I forget which poem that word comes from. Sorry. The other word was Mugwump. This word is in "think of it" from page 186 of "Betting." I thought that perhaps Buk made this word up.

Mugwumps were Republican political activists who bolted from the United States Republican Party by supporting Democratic candidate Grover Cleveland in the United States presidential election of 1884. They switched parties because they rejected the financial corruption associated with Republican candidate James G. Blaine. In a close election, the Mugwumps supposedly made the difference in New York state and swung the election to Cleveland. The jocular word mugwump, noted as early as 1832, is from Algonquian (Natick) mugquomp, "important person, kingpin" (from mugumquomp, "war leader")[1] implying that they were "sanctimonious" or "holier-than-thou,"[2] in holding themselves aloof from party politics.

The last thing was Chicken Giblets. I guess there is a chance I'm stupid for not knowing what this word meant or it just means my Mom and Dad never ate these and as a result I was unfamiliar with them. This word was in the poem "chicken giblets" from page 188 of "Betting."

Definition: In the culinary arts, the word Giblets refers to the heart, liver and gizzard of a chicken or other poultry.

Sounds pretty gross to me. I guess if you eat them growing up then they are quite delicous.
With "mugwump" I always think of fence sitters: mug on one side of the fence, and wump on the other. I think Mama Cass Elliot was in a band called The Mugwumps.

I remember my mom cooking up the giblets of a chicken. She'd eat that offal. I never could.

And I remember gunny sacks. Potato sack race. Gunny sack race. A feature of the annual school sports day.
A new random thought to add or perhaps its an observation. This goes into the topic of spooky. I was re-reading one of Buk's books. I re-read a lot of his stuff. This is from the Letters Volume 3: 1971-1996. He says in a letter to Willaim Packard on Dec 31, 1978 on page 123...

"I've got to do another 15 years of good, hard writing - let's see: 58 and 15 equals...well, best not to think about that..."

Do you believe this shit? That is seriously spooky. When I first read this I had to double check the math and make sure he died at 73. He did and the math checks out. It is also surprising that usually when he talks about death he is usually telling death to F*** Off. In this instance he shows reluctance to mock death and that is the number he checks out on. Pretty darn scary kids.
When you start feeling old, you often add 15 years to your age, trying to imagine if you'll be alive or if you'll still have teeth. I know I do. :(
I have a new random thought to share. I first have horrible news to share so that you the reader can understand the significance of this post. My oldest brother Pat was nearly killed in a car accident. The date was 10/10/2006. A fucking date that will live in infamy. The guy who hit my brother was dead in his car before he hit my brother. It was known that this guy had a significant heart condition. My brother almost bleed to death. As a result of medical complications I won't go into here he lost his eyesight several days after the accident.

He was rendered permanently BLIND. Isn't that wonderful. His daughter was overjoyed.

Many years later...now Sept 2014....my brother asks me to paint his kitchen. He is going away for a while and he knows that his wallpaper is falling apart and so he asks me to do the job since I can't find a job. I say sure. I ask him, " what color do you want?" Now keep in mind he can't see the color but he says "Yellow."

Now we all know that Buk's favorite color is Yellow and out of all the colors in the world that my brother could have chosen he chooses YELLOW !

That is some pretty spooky shit. I'll be doing to painting in a few days and I think I will be thinking of Buk almost the whole time. BUK works in mysterious ways.
Finally started reading Women.

Wanted to buy a copy of Love is a Dog From Hell but couldn't find it anywhere. Also, I checked both the new and used book stores but couldn't find anything by Celine. Guess I'll have to go back to the library for him.

I can't help but wonder if the library's missing Bukowski titles have been given counterfeit signatures and are now listed on ebay for $400.

Ive bought most of my Buk collection from amazon fairly priced as well as well Journey To The .... and Death On Credit...both fairly priced. I see this post is old but thought id share

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