I’m
almost through on my third reading of Charles Bukowski’s
book
of selected poems, The Pleasures of the Damned.
I
can certainly relate to some of his emotions—loneliness, anger,
mistrust,
love and hate. My experience with drunks including
myself
rings true with alcoholics of every age around the world.
Bukowski
hung around with drunks, bums, thieves and prostitutes.
I
have known a prostitute or two in my time, but never professionally
or
in any sort of long term or meaningful relations.
Hank,
as close friends and he occasionally refered to himself, was a
tortured
person which was seeded in him from childhood by abject
poverty,
an extremely abusive father and a submissive, codependent
mother.
Hank
became an angry, abusive, mistrusting and bitter person himself
who
revered the downtrodden in life. And he pretty much detested the
rest
of society on the whole.
He
smoke and drank to excess, he gambled compulsively and had sex
with
anyone who was willingly to go along.
Needless
to say, he was an accomplished writer who pulled no punches
with
his poetry, in his short stories and interviews. I suppose you could
say,
I learned from Hank to be more honest and down to earth with my
writing
even though in so many ways, we are different as night from day.
Bukoski
loved his cats, loved their independence and tenacity; he admired
their
fearless, territorial and killer instincts. He ended one of his poems
saying,“I
study these creatures. They are my teachers.”
Charles
Bukowski, 1920-1994. R.I.P., Hank. Until we meet again, which
would
be more than likely in my fourth reading of your poignant and
gut-wrenching
work.
-30-
Chris
Hanch 3-17-2020
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