Goodbye Charles B and the 90's

I gave away the Bukowski collection today. It went to a 22 year old writer and student who likes "Irish Yoga" and Jameson. He was very happy to have them. I privately wished him well in his Bukowskian phase. I was there once, that place where the stupidity of loafing drunk had all the wisdom of my world. It was good to give that crap away. Bukowski had a wryness that coated his cynicism and passive aggressiveness. I could relate, I was consumed by the same point of view and used similar toxic means to get there. But I had to get a life. He had his, and lived longer than what one would expect given his boozing and carrying on. I couldn't take that chance. There is only room for a few Bukowskis on the planet at any given time. The poetic and amusing and tragic but not lethal drunk is a rare role and one can't really prep for it - it just sort of happens by default.

O don't ask why, O don't ask why.