Amazing man. No metaphores. No glamour.
Fucked. Tough.
Writing, always writing.
read "average people", or whatever the title is.
Doctor: you take one more drink, you're dead.
Bukowski, years later: Doctors often lie to you.
Points at star in windowshield of his car. Girlfriend's heel did that. She thought we were about to die. We didn't. I like it. I like the design. It starts to look like me.
very intense man, amazingly intense poetry. I can never live the life he had, nor do I think I aspire to do so... but at times... at times...
