There are no such things as coincidences, but this is pretty close (1 Viewer)

I'm not going to pretend I'm witty or know everything about Charles Bukowski. But I will say that as silly as it may sound, oddest chain of events has led me here. I won't bore you with the details if you don't wish to read them. However, if you wish to know, then let me know.

And above all else, I truly appreciate this man's brutal honesty. I really do.
 
Just please don't fall asleep.

Let's see... It started with a bad day at work three years ago in July. I was still the wide-eyed new kid and had just gotten sent to Supply department to fulfill my obligation. At least they didn't send me to the mess decks. Instead they sent me to the paint locker. We just gotten a new leading petty officer who was still getting used to being a first class, let a lone leading the division. On top of that most of the division comprised of rejects and or short termers from different departments. They couldn't care less.

This particular day, I had to sit out in a paint locker with terrible ventilation in ninety degree plus weather and one hundred percent humidity. I was already starting to get a headache when it was revealed that some one had not taken an inventory like they were supposed to, so the division had to take everything out of the locker and inventory every thing. Down to the lowliest tube of silicone. The next seven hours was endless complaints and bickering among us. Pointing fingers, accusing, etc. I had gotten out five hours late that day and it was already pitch black out.

I then sat on the mess decks with the new laptop and tablet that I bought in April. I was still getting used to drawing without looking at my hands. But it was easier. So I started to draw something out my usual stuff. An ugly, battle scarred captain. Broken teeth, broken nose, bright eyes, a bitter disposition, a terrifying smile, it was the best digital drawing so far. I still keep it to this day.

But I continued to draw him, giving him color, thicker eyebrows so he didn't look like a pedophile. But I kept thinking of a name. I had a first name, 'Roger', but the last name eluded me. I racked my brain for uncommon last names that suited him. I remembered hearing a name years ago that seemed to fit. I don't remember when, where or why. I just thought it sounded neat. It was decided that the character's name was going to be 'Roger Bukowsky.'

I didn't give it a second thought and continued to tinker with the character, giving him flesh one muscle at a time. It soon evolved in to an entire cast of whack jobs, freak shows, and bizarre characters, but Roger was always the lead, evolving in to what could be described as an ornery, way too old version of the 'Ancient Mariner.' Angry at God, drinks in hopes of finally getting drunk again only to fail, womanizer, doesn't care about the world. Cursed. Brutally honest. Storyteller.

It had been relatively recently I started getting questions asking if there was a relation between him and Charles Bukowski. Over and over again, his books were being suggested to me. So I looked up his biography online and thought him to be a more than interesting subject. Uncomfortably familiar. A couple of weeks ago, I went to the bookstore and picked up 'Tales of Ordinary Madness' and started reading. It had to be the best thing I've done for myself in years. Here in this book was my character's thought and psychology laid out in print by a man who died when I was learning how to read. This was the launching pad that I needed. Now I'm hooked. Now I can write my story.

I hope I didn't bore.
 
I'm just speaking from personal experience. The way my line of work has changed over the few short years I've been in, I can understand why people can begin to lose control. But hey, I'm off and I just had a good meal.
 

esart

esart.com
Founding member
That's a great story!

One time I was working on a painting of MLK Jr. I worked on it throughout the night and into the next day. At the time, I did a lot of portraits of people I admired, so it wasn't anything out of the blue, but later that day, I realized it had happened to be his birthday, and I swear that was not planned in any way shape or form.

I know that's nothing like your story, but I have others that are way more boring than yours if you ever want to have a contest.
 
No it's fine, I like getting to know people. Frankly, even the way different people do everyday things can be very fascinating. So if you want to share, don't hesitate.

Also it could be that instinct of that time of year when Black History Month rolls around. You see it everywhere. It doesn't seem too off to me.
 

esart

esart.com
Founding member
This was years before we had a Black History Month or before there was a MLK national holiday. It was many years ago and I wasn't thinking about it.

Okay here's another stupid story. And I can't believe I am going to reveal this.

When I was young. I'm a drummer by the way. I had a dream that John Bonham took off his foot and gave it to me. Now I liked Zep, but I wasn't a die-hard crazy fan or anything. I remember a few years before this dream, it was a trick for me to learn how to play The Ocean and first get that d-duh action down on the bass drum as a beginner, but other than that, I had the first couple records and didn't have to play them much because they got enough play on the radio.

The dream was really intense, and he presented his foot to me like an award. It was stuck to a bass drum pedal and I attached it to my bass drum on my set. Then he drove away, alone, in a limo.

The next morning, I told my good friend about the dream. SHE was a die hard fan and I figured she'd get a kick out of it. That's when she told me that Bonham had died the night before. I had NO idea.

Many years later, 1990-something, I was playing in a bar in Santa Monica. John Bonhams old limo driver was in the audience. After the show, he was in TEARS (albeit drunk) going on and on about how I had John's foot. I am not kidding you. Of course I had to tell him about the dream. He went crazy and believed somehow there was really some kind of intervention.

I still don't know what I believe. I had a heavy, Bonham-like foot. but what does it mean?

I don't play anymore by the way.
 

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