There is no doubt one will get super mind fucked if he/she reads his books. And leave alone imagining how super duper mind fucked he himself would have been. Charles Bukowski. I have been on a kind of marathon of his books- Factotum, Love is a dog from hell, south of no north and now Ham on Rye. He usually narrates as the story of Henry Chinaski, which is apparently a very close representation of himself. Most of his books talk about contempt to world, indifference to jobs, dispathy to ever changing love and women in his life and a general loathing towards people and society...
It is one thing to behave aloof. I feel it is in fact a sub conscious way of life for several people in our generation.It's one thing to think of oneself as someone who is emotionless, cold and unmoved by clichéd emotions of the world and another thing to be really so. The bliss of oblivion is not destined for all. Ignorance is a bliss but its hard to be able to even hope for it. Bukowski in this regard was leaps ahead of his generation. He clearly tops the list of people I would love to have a conversation with and figure out whats going in their minds. Alas, he is dead..not that I would have travelled all the way to meet him if he were alive.
Bukowski writes about lives of a routine Americans. He just doesn't shun from stating the crude obvious. He writes as if he was so disgusted with everything that it did not disgust him anymore. You read his books more and more and you realize how complex humans can be- while they are chasing the very basics- food, addictions, sex and survival. I think that will be the greatest mystery- not what's love or not what's the purpose of life. Big mystery is if someone feels the way they feel and are they going to hang on to it in eventualities. The biggest mystery would be if we feel the way we feel and are we going to feel that way. This is also the most flawed fundamental of society. We are expected to make decisions and commitments that run for long term, which we make based on present circumstances...now if only present remains the same in future. Forever...
Bukowski doesn't behave differently because his acts feel as if they are out of despair and loneliness but he maintains that he's never been lonely. In his own words-
“I've never been lonely. I've been in a room -- I've felt suicidal. I've been depressed. I've felt awful -- awful beyond all -- but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me...or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I've never been bothered with because I've always had this terrible itch for solitude. It's being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I'll quote Ibsen, "The strongest men are the most alone." I've never thought, "Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and I'll feel good." No, that won't help. You know the typical crowd, "Wow, it's Fridaynight, what are you going to do? Just sit there?" Well, yeah. Because there's nothing out there. It's stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I've never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn't want to hide in factories. That's all. Sorry for all the millions, but I've never been lonely. I like myself. I'm the best form of entertainment I have. Let's drink more wine!”
Only thing different is that people usually go through these emotions- temporarily and permanently after what happens in their lives- lost love, lack of money, failed aspirations etc. He talks as if he knew it since the beginning. He didn't topple to get hurt and tredged carefully, he knew it all the way- so it didn't matter to him if he topples, while he tredged with handicapped ambition..
“there are worse things
than being alone
but it often takes
decades to realize this
and most often when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
than too late”
Bukowski was of German descent and raised in the US. He was never married, lost his serious romantic partner to death and presumable all the books and poems came from this loss that devastated him. Bukowski is best depicted as Hank Moody in Californication- mainly because of the parallels of being a writer, alcoholic, and a womanizer. Hank Moody is charming to most women who watch Californication and a dude/ inspiration for most men. But to be really him takes massive amount of guts. Or I'd say you can't become him. One can't decide and wake up one day thinking that he is going to go so deep in callousness that everything ceases to matter. That's something few are blessed with- or probably its adventitious. It can't be a choice, but he differs when he says “Find what you love and let it kill you.”
Below sums up his core philosophy:
“If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery--isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you'll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is.”
He says “those who escape hell however never talk about it and nothing much bothers them after that.” Seems he went to the hell, at least thought so. I am not sure if he escaped or thought that he did, or wished to... Whichever way- Bukowski, Chnaski, Moody-wish you could tell me the story behind your stories!!
It is one thing to behave aloof. I feel it is in fact a sub conscious way of life for several people in our generation.It's one thing to think of oneself as someone who is emotionless, cold and unmoved by clichéd emotions of the world and another thing to be really so. The bliss of oblivion is not destined for all. Ignorance is a bliss but its hard to be able to even hope for it. Bukowski in this regard was leaps ahead of his generation. He clearly tops the list of people I would love to have a conversation with and figure out whats going in their minds. Alas, he is dead..not that I would have travelled all the way to meet him if he were alive.
Bukowski writes about lives of a routine Americans. He just doesn't shun from stating the crude obvious. He writes as if he was so disgusted with everything that it did not disgust him anymore. You read his books more and more and you realize how complex humans can be- while they are chasing the very basics- food, addictions, sex and survival. I think that will be the greatest mystery- not what's love or not what's the purpose of life. Big mystery is if someone feels the way they feel and are they going to hang on to it in eventualities. The biggest mystery would be if we feel the way we feel and are we going to feel that way. This is also the most flawed fundamental of society. We are expected to make decisions and commitments that run for long term, which we make based on present circumstances...now if only present remains the same in future. Forever...
Bukowski doesn't behave differently because his acts feel as if they are out of despair and loneliness but he maintains that he's never been lonely. In his own words-
“I've never been lonely. I've been in a room -- I've felt suicidal. I've been depressed. I've felt awful -- awful beyond all -- but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me...or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I've never been bothered with because I've always had this terrible itch for solitude. It's being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I'll quote Ibsen, "The strongest men are the most alone." I've never thought, "Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and I'll feel good." No, that won't help. You know the typical crowd, "Wow, it's Fridaynight, what are you going to do? Just sit there?" Well, yeah. Because there's nothing out there. It's stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I've never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn't want to hide in factories. That's all. Sorry for all the millions, but I've never been lonely. I like myself. I'm the best form of entertainment I have. Let's drink more wine!”
Only thing different is that people usually go through these emotions- temporarily and permanently after what happens in their lives- lost love, lack of money, failed aspirations etc. He talks as if he knew it since the beginning. He didn't topple to get hurt and tredged carefully, he knew it all the way- so it didn't matter to him if he topples, while he tredged with handicapped ambition..
“there are worse things
than being alone
but it often takes
decades to realize this
and most often when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
than too late”
Bukowski was of German descent and raised in the US. He was never married, lost his serious romantic partner to death and presumable all the books and poems came from this loss that devastated him. Bukowski is best depicted as Hank Moody in Californication- mainly because of the parallels of being a writer, alcoholic, and a womanizer. Hank Moody is charming to most women who watch Californication and a dude/ inspiration for most men. But to be really him takes massive amount of guts. Or I'd say you can't become him. One can't decide and wake up one day thinking that he is going to go so deep in callousness that everything ceases to matter. That's something few are blessed with- or probably its adventitious. It can't be a choice, but he differs when he says “Find what you love and let it kill you.”
Below sums up his core philosophy:
“If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives and maybe even your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery--isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. And, you'll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds. And it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is.”
He says “those who escape hell however never talk about it and nothing much bothers them after that.” Seems he went to the hell, at least thought so. I am not sure if he escaped or thought that he did, or wished to... Whichever way- Bukowski, Chnaski, Moody-wish you could tell me the story behind your stories!!
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