Un piccolo omaggio a quel "vecchio sporcaccione" di Charles Bukowski, pur consapevole della difficoltà di apprezzarlo appieno in tale sede, ovvero non con la classica lettura instancabile, lunga e appassionante, qual'è quella richiesta dai suoi "raccontacci" e dalle sue poesie (fortunatamente recitate da lui stesso).
[...] Andò a versarsi uno scotch con acqua, lo portò in camera da letto, si tolse la camicia, i calzoni, le scarpe e le calze. Rimase in mutande e andò a letto con il drink. Era mezzogiorno meno un quarto. Niente ambizione, niente talento, niente opportunità. Only luck prevented him from ending up in the street, but luck did not last forever. He emptied his glass and stretched. The man in revolt taken
of Camus and read a few pages. Camus spoke of anxiety, terror and unhappiness of the human condition, but he spoke so peaceful and flowery ... his language was such that it gives the impression that nothing would ever be able to scratch him or his style . In other words, it was the same as if everything had gone in the best way. His way of writing was that of a man who had just finished eating a big steak, with salad and fries, accompanied with a bottle of French wine. Perhaps the suffering humanity, but he was not sure. Very wise on his part, but Henry preferred someone who scream when the world was on fire. (From
cries when you're burning in
organ music hot )
[...] "What's wrong with love, Tony?"
"Love is a form of prejudice. He loves what he needs, what makes us feel good, what makes us comfortable. How do you say that you love someone, when the world there are thousands of people who you love more, if only I meet? The fact is that you meet. "
"All right, however they tend to better."
"Granted. But we must realize that love does not is the result of a chance encounter. People give him too much. For this reason a good fuck is far from despising. "
" But that is the result of a chance encounter. "
" Here you're right. Drink, ordered another. "(From the misfires
, in op.cit.)
[...] I continued to walk, turn right, then left, then forward again. Not I knew where I was going. I passed a room and there was a doorway that says:
"Hey, you want a job?"
peeked in and saw several rows of men standing in front of wooden benches, with a hammer in hand, Davan hammered the robe, as shells or mussels, and cracked the shell and pulled out the good, and I do not know that we did, it was dark in there. It was as if the men hitting yourself with a hammer and throw away what was advancing them. I said to the man
"No, I do not need a job." I spent over
. I had the sun in his face.
was 74 cents. The sun
So went well. (From
a lovely love story in Tales of Ordinary Madness
)
