the story of Bukowski doing a reading in my friend's living room and drinking way too much beer. (1 Viewer)

Seems to be genuine:
“Ooooo,” Linda said, “I bet I could dance to some of those records.”

“Baby,” said Bukowski, opening a second beer, “You could dance to all those records.”
So now I've learned (1) that you once could fly for ten bucks from SFO to LAX without reservation and (2) that Bukowski once pissed for four minutes straight, during

"the days when artists, writers, musicians, and unemployed visionaries were playing hard in the city’s streets and paying the rent working part time."

Now who doesn't remember those glory wild-west-like times?

Still, thanks for posting!

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