tip-toeing into this new place

#1
I don't exactly know where to begin. I am tip-toeing into this new place after hiding for about 30 years from a strange entanglement? (can't bring myself to call it an affair or God forbid, relationship, with this man Hank. We had a long distance you-know-what and then finally met in Ca. in 1975 for a brief time. I kept everything in a box until a few months ago. At first it was just going to be to sell some letters (I thought), but after spending some time back there in my head, I realize to have these things and these memories is a very good thing in itself. I don't really care if I sell anything or not. I have a need to sort of set the record straight. I don't know how interested anybody is in this.
 

mjp

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#2
mystery girl said:
I don't know how interested anybody is in this.
I think I can speak for most anyone who would hang around here and say we would be very interested in hearing your stories. Feel free to start new threads and talk about whatever you want to talk about.
 
#5
A thousand things

Okay, thank you guys for the kind words. I started reading Buk's books about 1974 in NYC. (l live in Ky. now) I decided just for a laugh I'd see if I could find him in L.A., maybe write him a letter. Of course he was listed in the phone book which really surprised me; but we know why, now, don't we all? He answered the phone and that started a long conversation and many long letters between us. He called often. Mostly in the middle of the night, slightly tipsy, not drunk, unconcerned about the time zone difference. I was only 24 years old and hugely flattered. My letters to him would probably make me cringe if I read them now. They are now located at the University of Arizona, which I don't mind but can't figure out how they got there. We made plans via our letters for a meeting. I had inherited a little bit of money from my grandfather, so I bought a ticket to visit him that summer. I went and he met me at the airport in L.A. We talked a bit and he was VERY nervous. He was old enough to be my father, and dressed in his clothes. Not just about meeting me but about negociating the traffic back to Carlton Way. Let me stop here for a minute. I don't want to rush this and I don't want to tell all in 15 minutes. It's too hard. I want to be as truthful as I can without any of my own feelings tainting it, though they probably will. I knew then I was taking a stupid risk - but the adventure was too tempting. That's enough for today.
 

cirerita

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#6
thanks for sharing this.

I was at the Univerisity of Arizona and I read all the letters held there, so I probably read yours as well. I don't remember any cringing feeling, though :)

I made lots of copies, especially poems, but I also copied a few letters, maybe even yours, I don't know. If you want, I could check my files and let you know about that.
send me a pm if you want to keep your name secret.
 
#8
Thank you, mjp, for your help after I screwed up my entry. I guess I mean your patience with me too. Obviously I'm not really a computer person. Anyway, I think I was somewhere in the story telling you about arriving at Carlton. Hank relaxed a lot more there of course, and was drinking a beer out of a gigantic bottle, I believe. His bungalo was kind of in the back and there was another one in the front. There was a sort of nice walkway between them. I remember some plants. His front room was small, with a picture window, a small couch, etc., not really too bad. It got the afternoon sun, I think. The kitchen was right off of it, with an old stove and a reallly old refrigerator. Nothing was in it but some beer, maybe some wine? and a steak or two. The typewriter was in the kitchen. Guys, this was so long ago that I remember thinking how much newer mine was at work in NYC (I had a Selectric). Some people came over right away. Hank's mood became very happy and sarcastic. Some guy Hank called an ac-TOR was there. We kept looking each other over every few minutes, sideways looks, like we did in the car ride home. It was totally thrilling for me, a 24-year-old girl, from Kentucky and New York. Later...
 

HenryChinaski

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#9
whoa that's really crazy. I'd love to hear more and I'm sure everybody else would too. If I were you, I'd never sell any of the letters or anything of Buks that you have. But if you ever did decide to sell a few things, I'm sure you'd be surprised at how much $ you got for them. I'd pay an arm and a leg for something like that. TELL US MORE TELL US MORE. this is like a long lost chapter from women or something. But it's even better because we're getting the woman's point of view.
 

jenny

Founding member
#10
Yes, More please!
HenryChinaski said:
TELL US MORE TELL US MORE. this is like a long lost chapter from women or something. But it's even better because we're getting the woman's point of view.
Very intriguing! I could neglect my children all day to read this stuff!! (J/K I'll go feed them lunch!:p )
 
#12
First off, thank you, Cirerita, for looking for my letters in your copies. It would've been fun to look back, but oh well. I was shocked they were still around...I figured Linda King had rolled them in dog poop and set them on fire in front of Hank's door or something. Thank you nice folks for your supportive and patient remarks. I get tired from my job and I am really addicted to exercise....(in your FACE, Hank, I'm still OK at 55, HA!), anyway. I'm going to write a lot this weekend; at least try to write SOMETHING. I remember one thing...this guy came over to Hank's place shortly after I arrived. There were several people there, including the ac-TOR, as Hank called him. This other guy, Hank told me was the guy who wrote that kind of corny but very popular tune - it went - "Blah blah blah, I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love" - any of you 60's guys remember that one? Well, that was ALL he ever wrote, or so Hank told me. He absolutely couldn't stand this guy. Made horrible fun of him. I think he hated the song, too. Don't you?
 

mjp

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#13
Bob Lind.

Bukowski wrote a few poems about him and ridiculed him in Hollywood, I believe (don't quote me on that).
 
#14
Oh yeah? That's interesting. Thinking about it, I think Hank was a teeny bit jeolous of him. A lot of stuff he said back then I took it for the gospel truth, and then, of course, came to see that he was just like everybody else - sad, longing, insecure, telling lies. The difference was, he FOUND the thing to draw us all in - the presentation of the wild, forlorn over-the-top boozer, the lover with all the women, and his physical talent (?!) making love. That is of course, unless he passed out somewhere unimaginable. The stories!! He was brilliant. His tales shone a light on the average folk and made them look stupider than stupid. With all his REAL talent, which was in his words in his head on his crappy old typewriter, he told me many times how he had not been given the credit or the audience that William Burroughs had; or Ferlinghetti (sp?), and the latter was kind of a phony anyway. And here am I, trying to tell you what he told me, and it's tough. He could actually get away with saying the most selfish things and get away with it. His voice!! was so....fine, like the way people (I imagined) spoke to one another in L.A. in the first part of the 20th century; or like in the movies from the 30's and 40's, only his was better because he didn't have to fake that. One day he took me to Venice beach. He was having an awful time. I wore my teeny weeny bikini. I walked around the beach in that...he sat on the sand fully clothed. He worried about the traffic, about driving back. He took me to visit Steve Richmond that day. As soon as we arrived Hank instantly got in a better mood. OK, I don't want to get timed out. Have no idea what I'm saying to you guys, no time to proofread. Thanks for reading.

---

Alright, back to the few days on Carlton. We talked a lot, or I listened quite a bit. We ate steak, smoked, drank; I don't have a lot of memories of those days before the Big Thing happened. It's been too many years, and I can't make it up. I mean make up dialogue or anything else. I remember him as looking exactly like his pictures. Not more ugly than he was pictured or better looking, but his face had that softness of intelligence and having lived, and his eyes twinkled, really; so much that his face was great to look at, in all its ugliness. He always seemed like he was holding back a laugh. And his face was self-aware, and other layers, that I don't have words for. But exactly the same as the photos. But we did fall into a sort of Hank-ish routine. Drinking, talking. But...the sex, well, he tried, but IT didn't really work anymore. He was always soft.The booze, I guess, and maybe his age, his weight, his blood pressure, who knows? At first I was a little bummed out. I thought maybe I should be enough to make him go. But of course that was dumb young girl thinking; thinking I was not good enough. I remember him lying on his side looking at me with tired eyes. He wanted to sleep I guess. Later, I hope this weekend.
 

mjp

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#15
mystery girl said:
But...the sex, well, he tried, but IT didn't really work anymore. He was always soft.
Oh oh...we might have to move this into the Dispelling Bukowski's myths thread now. Heh.
 
#16
I'm new here so maybe I'm making some major faux pas but what happened to the Mystery Girl's entries after 2/24/06? It was really fascinating! I hope there's more.... Thanks.
 

mjp

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#17
She pops in every now and then to add more. Hang in there, you'll see her again.
 
#19
mystery girl, hopefully, will grace us with her presence, yes, yes, pls.

btw id like to say hi to all b. fans. i was hiding for a while (getting obsessed with these delicious forums), thinking all the time to say hi and let you know tht there are some other women around who loves this dirty old man...now the time has come...thou i suspect i will make an inspiring noise...

here a woman at the age of 33, turkish, but living in the city of bleak aliens- aka london- for a while now, dealing with her bloody phd...who remembers reading b. ...oh damn so long ago now....need to get back to him for sure...soon...im even emberrassed to confess tht i havent read all of his stuff...first it was in turkish (btw i saw in miscellany tht u already have one turkish cover of one of b.'s books-which made me happy)...then in english ive started....but it's been so long....damn....the last one was PO.....but i promise ill catch up and continue reading these forums.......i love these forums....so much to learn, and to read...really inspiring.


anyways...before the alcohol starts creeping along the veins of this woman...she'll leave an invisible trace and thank you for not only the opportunity but also for the great stuff u have here.

hail hail
 

mjp

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#20
Well good to see you!

And don't feel bad. I don't think there are many people who have read everything.

Except cirerita. ;)
 

cirerita

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#21
I haven't read everything, believe me, I think Martin is sitting on a big backlog which is unavailable anywhere else.

as to the pub. stuff, I think I've read 98% of it, but there are a few things which I skipped on purpose.
 

cirerita

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#23
I obviously meant I skipped stuff about B, not by B. You know, there are quite a few chapbooks out there which don't call my attention at all. Very minor things, though.
 
#25
Hi guys. I'm back and thinking how I haven't read a thing by him (except the stuff he gave me that my husband had framed) and some of the old letters. I have 22 of them, and they are some beautiful words - all lies, ha, mostly. But quite interesting and even, well, sweet. Can I say that? It's so hard for me to write about this....when my kids were little I almost burned all his letters because I was afraid they would find them. I was worried about the language. Post partum does strange things to your head. My kids are grown now and I found out my son, an intelligent person, already had read him. I was blown! Now I'm so so glad I saved them. l don't want even to share them much. The dealers who have seen them said wow. I read stuff you guys say and think, yeah! I used to be there! And it was OK. I'll get back to my story later. If I haven't already lost this.
 
#27
OK, I'm back again. This is silly. I feel like major old trying to work a TV in 1952. That's this thing. My husband gets on and tries to show me stuff and I'm yelling "Keep it simple! I can't do all that complicated crap! Just, just..go away...thank you. Love you." Anyway, my story...I've been trying to tell for uh, weeks now. I was at the place on Carlton with Hank. We were settling in, actually. I think it was late in the afternoon. Someone was knocking at the screen door. I went to answer it. Have I told this part already? I openned it. She looked...expressionless. Then she said, something like, "Oh, yeah. She's here. And she's pretty too!!" Next thing, I am being flung, or pushed across the room. I'm shaking, about to get up. I'm thinking, this must be some mistake. I start to raise up, but I can't because, she's on top of me! Flailing around and trying to slap me! It's...my God. Linda King.
 

SamDusky

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#29
mystery girl said:
Hi guys. I'm back and thinking how I haven't read a thing by him (except the stuff he gave me that my husband had framed) and some of the old letters. I have 22 of them, and they are some beautiful words - all lies, ha, mostly. But quite interesting and even, well, sweet..
Would you ever consider scanning & uploading the letters? If you found you needed tech assistance, I'm sure many here, including myself, would help walk you thru it. Waiting patiently for your next instalment.
 
#30
Hello to all 2 of you who are reading this. Ha ha. Yeah, I'll get my husband to stick one of the letters in. I have some other interesting souvenirs (sp?) - I have a phone bill belonging to Hank that he sent me (to show me his idea of caring for me), it lists all his calls to me when I was in NYC. I have a small painting that arrived in a gooey mess. He sent it still wet. It is still folded and won't open all the way. Then some photos (just of him), a broadside, and a few signed books and poems. I unfortunately never got a picture of us together. But that's OK, since we were never really an "us" except in the letters and the week I was there. OK, so at the end of this week, here I am underneath Linda King. A very, very angry Linda King, and she had been drinking beer because I'm smelled her breath which was coming through her gritting teeth. I don't know why she was after me, in retrospect. It was HE who told me that theyhad definitely split up. Why else would I have gone there, having read his stories and knowing what a shrew she could be. So I realized I better do something quick before she pulled all of my hair out. I got my knees, and then my feet, somehow up underneath her, between us, and kicked out wildly with all the force I could muster up. Amazingly, she went flying backwards, and down on her generous rump, I guess. I wasn't really looking. I was hot footin' it out of there like an Olympic runner. She had lost her balance and gone down, after the kick, and it gave me my one chance to escape. I went flying down the concrete walkway. I could hear only my sandals flapping hard on the ground and my feet were actually close to touching my backside when they went behind me. I ran into the neighbors' place, Brad and Tina Darby's. She was behind me, I knew, in her white and pointy brassiere. I only saw Hank, out of the corner of my eye, as I was leaving - he was pretending to rise from his seat, pretended to hurt his ankle, pretending that he was not enjoying every minute, every second, of the whole stupid thing. More later.
 
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