Modern Love?

"Be modern. Its the modern age. People swing. Theyre uninhibited. They fuck from the ceiling. They screw dogs, babies, chickens, fish..."
"I like to choose,i have to care"
"Thats so damn corny. The caring is already built-in. Then if you cultivate that caring long enough the next thing you know you think its love."
"OK,whats wrong with love,tony?"
"Love is a form of prejudice. You love what you need, you love what makes you feel good, you love what is convenient. How can you say you love one person when there are ten thousand people in the world that you would love more if you ever met them? But youll never meet them"
"alright,so we do the best we can"
"Granted. But we must still realize that love is just the result of a chance encounter. Most people make too much of it. On these grounds a good fuck is not to be entirely scorned"
"but thats the result of a chance meeting too"
"Youre god damned right. drink up. we'll have another"
"youve got a good line tony,but its not going to work"
Well,said tony,nodding the bartender over,"im not going to grieve about that either"

Women.

"A man didnt have to have a women in order to feel as real as he could feel, but it was good if he knew a few. Then when the affair went wrong he'd feel what it was like to be truely lonely and crazed, and thus know what he must face, finally, when his own end came.

I was sentimental about many things: a womens shoes under the bed; one hairpin left behind on the dresser; the way they said, "im going to pee..."; hair ribbons; walking down the boulevard with them at 1:30 in the afternoon, just two people walking together; the long nights of drinking and smoking, talking; the arguements; thinking of suicide; eating together and feeling good; the jokes; the laughter out of nowhere; feeling miracles in the air; being in a parked car together; comparing past loves at 3am; being told you snore; hearing her snore; mothers, daughters, sons, cats, dogs; sometimes death and sometimes divorce, but always carrying on, always seeing it through; reading a newspaper alone in a sandwich joint and feeling nausea because shes now married to a dentist with an I.Q. of 95; racetracks, parks, park picinics; even jails; her dull friends, your dull friends; your drinking, her dancing; your flirting, her flirting; her pills, your fucking on the side, and her doing the same; sleeping together....

there were no judgements to be made, yet out of necessity one had to select. Beyond good and evil was all right in theory, but to go on living one had to select: some were kinder than others, some were simply more interested in you, and sometimes the outwardly beautiful and inwardly cold were necessary, just for bloody shitty kicks, like a bloody, shitty movie. The kinder ones fucked better, really, and after you were around them a while they seemed beautiful because they were. I thought of Sara, she had that something extra. if only there was no Drayer Baba holding up that damned STOP sign."

Book Snare.

I wish that I thought of it! I suppose that I could always still do it, but with Bukowski books. Still wouldn't be all THAT original, so I will most likely refrain. I just thought it was really cool.

Solitude.

"I was a man who thrived on solitude; without it
I was like another man without food or water.
Each day without solitude weakened me.
I took not pride in my solitude; but I was dependent on it.
The darkness of the room was like sunlight to me."

The Blackbirds Are Rough Today

"Lonely as a dry and used orchard spread over the earth for use and surrender.

Shot down like an ex-pug selling dailies on the corner.

Taken by tears like an aging chorus girl whos gotten her last check.

A hanky is in order your lord, your worship.

The blackbirds are rough today like ingrown toenails in an overnight jail--wine wine whine, the blackbirds run around and fly around harping about Spainish melodies and bones.

And everywhere is nowhere--the dream is as bad as flapjacks and flat tires:

why do we go on with our minds and pockets full of dust like a bad boy just out of school, you tell me, you who were a hero in some revolution. You who teach children. You who drink with calmness. You who own large homes and walk in gardens. You who have killed a man and own a beautiful wife. You tell me.

Why am I on fire like old dry garbage.

We might surely have some interesting correspondence. It will keep the mailman busy.

And the butterflies and ants and bridges and cemeteries, the rocket-makers and dogs and garage mechanics will still go on a while until we run out of stamps and/0r ideas.

Dont be ashamed of anything; I guess God meant it all like locks on doors."

Someday My Dance Will Begin...

Ive been neglecting my books. I havent read anything in a really long time. Ive had some things on the mind lately. To no surprise, these things are not good. So I opened something up and read a few pages. Ive been on "Run With The Hunted" for a while now. Poems, short stories, from Charles Bukowskis' other novels. This caught my eye really hard. So im posting it.

"I would never forgive the girls for getting into those cream-colored coupes with the laughing boys. They couldnt help it, of course, yet you always think, maybe...but no, there werent any maybes. Wealth meant victory and victory was the only reality. What woman chooses to live with a dishwasher?

Throughout high school I tried not to think too much about how things might eventually turn out for me. It seemed better to delay thinking...

Finally  it was the day of the Senior Prom. It was held in the girls' gym with live music, a real band. I dont know why but I walked over that night, the two-and-one-half miles from my parents' place. I stood outside in the dark and I looked in there, through the wired-covered window, and I was astonished. All the girls looked very grown-up, stately, lovely, they were in long dresses, and they all looked beautiful. I almost didnt recognize them. And the boys in their tuxes, they looked great, they danced so straight, each of them holding a girl in his arms, their faces pressed against the girls' hair. They all danced beautifully and the music was loud and clear and good, powerful. 

Then I caught a glimpse of my reflection staring in at them--boils and scars on my face, my ragged shirt. I was like some jungle animal drawn to the light looking in. Why had I come? I felt sick. But I kept watching. The dance ended. There was a pause. Couples spoke easily to each other. It was natural and civilized. Where had they learned to converse and dance? I couldnt converse or dance. Everybody knew something I didnt know. The girls looked so good, the boys so handsome. I would be too terrified to even look at one of those girls, let alone be close to one. To look into her eyes or dance with her would be beyond me. 

And yet I knew that what I saw wasnt as simple and good as it appeared. There was a price to be paid for all of it, a general falsity, that could be easily believed, and could be the first step down a dead-end street. The band began to play agian and the boys and the girls began to dance again and the lights revolved overhead throwing shades of gold, then red, then blue, then green, then gold again on the couples. As I watched them I said to myself, someday my dance will begin. When that day comes I will have something that they dont have. 

But then it got to be too much for me. I hated them. I hated their beauty, their untroubled youth, and as I watched them dance through the magic colored pools of light, holding each other, feeling so good, little unscathed children, temporarily in luck, I hated them because they had something I had not yet had, and I said to myself, I said to myself again, someday I will be as happy as any of you, you will see."

Christmas!

Like every christmas, I dont get much. Mainly because I always get money. Which is more than fine since I can then go out and get whatever it is that I want whenever I find it.

This year my sister got me a theme present, consisting of three parts. Of all Bukowski stuff.



FINALLY GOT A FRAME FOR MY PRINT!

AND I GOT THESE!



AND I bought these for myself earlyer this afternoon!


Now all I gotta do is find more things to buy with the other crap load of Dolla$ I have. Which shouldnt be too hard! Even though it usually takes me a year to spend holiday cash. I just got rid of my birthday money like...2 months ago, haha.

So yeah, thats Christmas! I hope yours went well and you got things that you wanted!

2008 Book Recap

2008 was a very crazy year for me. Which is something I will surely touch on again soon as the year turns over and I do a long winded emotion filled blog about the events that have taken place for me personally this year.

Though, its not time for that yet! Its time to recap the books that I have read this year. Now, I was never much of a reader, ever. Even as a child, my grandmother would always make me read 3 to 5 pages a day of what was usually an RL Stine book, before I got to go outside and play with my friends and I always hated it. Even when I was in school, I hated it. I never did the summer reading, nothing. Everytime I had to read, I found a moderatly interesting LOOKING book and just stared at it. Whenever I had to do a report, I glanced around and skipped to the end. I was a shit head. The only book I ever found interesting was 1984 by George Orwell. Which, I dont even think I finished, which is why Ive been thinking about reading it again and Anne Frank when we read it as a class in 8th grade(where my WWII interest began).

Ive always been a large advocate of education because I feel people should be intelligent. Existing in daily life just goes to show how much people really, arent. We have been gifted with brains. Which are able to obtain massive amounts of information. Brains that can output massive amounts of ideas and creativity. Which also could influence someone else to better themselves or something else, keeping the train rolling. Here I am, not doing shit simply because im LAZY. So I ALWAYS felt a bit hypocritical on the subject. Though Ive always been a very creative, imaginative person. More so as a child than as I grew older but for pretty much all of my life Ive wasted away my mind on who knows what, guiltily leaning towards video games(though no so much the past 5 yrs), television and the INTERNET.

I guess in some ways its all how you get introduced to things. I was in some sort of rut maybe, comfortable in my lazyness. Maybe just nothing fascinated me enough to go out and wanna gain knowledge of it. Maybe stories just didnt get me going?

Which brings me to WHY I started reading last year. Something happened in my life. What, is neither here nor there right now but what I needed to do was keep my mind busy. ANYTHING to take my mind off the situation that was at hand. I needed to block out thinking completely and distract myself from focusing on...myself. Much like when you are going through something and you confide in songs from artists or even write songs so that you may transcend. I was looking for something to relate to. I was looking for answers. I wanted something to tell me what went wrong, what I did wrong and jesus christ, how to fix it! THATS what reading was for me.

I dont know how it happned. I think one day I just looked at my "bookshelf"(full of CDs and movies) and saw this one book I had purchased in November 2007 at the Snapcase reunion show I had went to because Soul Control scored and got to open the 2 shows. It was a book written by Norman Brannon called "the Anti-matter Anthology". Its a book compiled of a bunch of interviews with bands that Norman had done in the past when his Zine called "anti-matter" was circulating around the New York Hardcore Scene in the early to late 90's. I think it was an alright start. Something light and easy, nothing to extensive, no huge words and something I was involved in and knew a lot about. Its also filled with probably the best interviews ive ever read. Im guessing my sister had saw that I was reading a book, maybe I had made a bulliten asking for suggestions, im not sure but she suggested I read a book entitled "Women" from a Charles Bukowski(how disgustingly appropriate at the time). She let me borrow her copy, which I soon bought for myself later. After I finished Anti-matter, I started on Women...and just kept going.

books of 2008:
The Anti-Matter Anthology- Norman Brannon
Women- Charles Bukowski
Hot Water Music- Charles Bukowski
Post Office- Charles Bukowski
Factotum- Charles Bukowski
The Stranger- Albert Camus
The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter- Carson McCullers
The Denial Of Death- Ernest Becker
Nausea- Jean Paul Sartre

I have a whole list of things I still havent gotten to yet. Most of which are all depressing,dark, sappy crap,cause thats when the list was made but I enjoy that shit anyway. Though once those are done, I dont think that Ill stop. So im sure fine stories about other things, more vibrant and "happy" will work their way into the list as I check out and discover new things. Until then its stories about drunken sexual deviants, loss, depression, death, confusion, loss, heartache, uncertainty, shelfishness, burdens, etc. 

Cranial health in 2009!

ART!

This came in the mail the other day. Its a Charles Bukowski print that Matt Brotka made. I'm totally in love with it! Bukowski is a dude ive been WAY into since being introduced to him about 8 months ago from my sister. So when I saw that Matt had made up some prints, I obviously picked one up! The only problem I have now is finding a place to put it! I dont know of any place right now, Bummed!

If youd like one for yourself,go to Matts page and grab one! They are limited!

www.timewillheal.com