This is a reply to Brother Shawn’s comment…
I don’t know a whole lot about Charles Bukowski, hardcore alcoholic writer, that’s about it, and I’ve only read one book, Ham On Rye, which I thoroughly enjoyed…devoured really. In the last post, mentioned him in reference to myself, of course my writing is just a candle to his blowtorch, but we did share a love of liquor and put words to paper. From what I gather, he’s a cult type of guy, love him or hate him ya know, but like anything with an edge to it, it gets dull as it becomes a trend…do you drink your tequila outta a shot glass or in a margarita? Sorta what they did to John Waters. This clip of an interview was what I was referencing…fucking classic…a guy who in my heavy drinking days who I wouldn’t have minded sharing a bottle with…
You know, I try to give people the benefit of the doubt, but for most people I encounter there is no doubt. I have a feeling that if I could possibly have a chance to become acquainted with everyone on this overpopulated dying planet, there would be very few that I would want to encounter more than once. I’m like this sober Bukowski who can’t stand humanity, but relies upon it for so much. As of the moment, this is what comes to mind at 3:37 AM, the morning after Christmas…damn 2016 was quite a year and ended with a bang.
Life has been a blur for a little while now, but outside my speck on this planet, much less in the cosmos, the gears are still grinding on around me. The above picture, is so meaningful, but has an unintended meaning, in that it is a solitary figure with a purpose up against so much antagonism. For some reason, unknown to me, Motörhead just seems to be the perfect, beginning to the soundtrack that will be my life here on out…