Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Truth is Stranger and all that . . . .

From WIkipedia's entry on Charles Bukowski:


One critic has described Bukowski's fiction as a "detailed depiction of a certain taboo male fantasy: the uninhibited bachelor, slobby, anti-social, and utterly free", an image he tried to live up to with sometimes riotous public poetry readings and boorish party behaviour.



It may be fantasy, but it's not fiction.

I live the "fantasy."

Of course "utterly free" doesn't translate to action -- we're never free of our fears.

******************** UPDATE ***********************************

(1) if the faux Hatfield posts are not auto-generated, but come from a real person, pretty please cut it out? The blog could go to moderated comments, but that would just be a huge, huge drag [yeah; like there's a lot of comment traffic here anyway . . . . HA!]

(2) this post is intended, btw, to convey my self-loathing. Anyone foolishly thinking I was extolling virtue or value in this crappy life I lead missed my intent.

13 comments:

Anonymous said...

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Little Johnny Jewel said...

Someone purporting to be "Juliana Hatfield" is disseminating disturbing email messages, postings, and e-cards throughout the internet. Please ignore any and all unsolicited anti-Semitic, racist/fascist, or sexually perverted email or e-cards sent by "Juliana Hatfield." It's not coming from me.
If you are a victim of these messages, please copy, paste, and mail to admin@julianahatfield.com and we will forward it to the authorities working on this case.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
Juliana Hatfield

Sir George Martin said...

Every time it's happened so far, an editor of this blog has just copied the text of the original Blog Entry, deleted the whole mess, and reposted the whole Blog Entry. No recurrences. But I have had it happen four times.

A bummer, but less of a bummer than finding out someone is posting as you, or is trolling your fave sites. . . .

Mister Parker said...

Yeah, I saw one of these bizarre postings the other day and then was happy to see it had disappeared. It's days like this that make me hanker for a pre-Internet age.

Okay, I'm off to surf imdb.com ...

mister muleboy said...

At first I thought I was being kidded [a misguided, vulgar, hateful kidding] by someone on the list with odd proclivities. You know who you are . . . .

But then I realized that I (a) had posted a photo of Juliana H.;
(b) write of her occasionally; and
(c) visit her site and go to other places that cite her.

So I now think it's a broader Spam/hateful thing.

I could never, btw, patronize any sex worker who didn't realize that vermin is the plural and doesn't need an "s"

Puhleeze

mister muleboy said...

I should add, about my original post, that it was intended to be self-loat . . . .

Mister Parker said...

By the way, speaking of Bukowski, rather than the beloved Juliana Hatfield, who I am quite certain would never send racist e-mails, here is a Bukowski poem entitled "some picnic" from his collection Play The Piano Drunk Like A Percussion Instrument Until The Fingers Begin To Bleed A Bit:

"some picnic"
By Charles Bukowski

which reminds me
I shacked with Jane for 7 years
she was a drunk
I loved her

my parents hated her
I hated my parents
it made a nice
foursome

one day we went on a picnic
together
up in the hills
and we played cards and drank beer and
ate potato salad and weenies

they talked to her as if she were a living person
at last

everybody laughed
I didn't laugh.

later at my place
over the whiskey
I said to her,
I don't like them
but it's good they treated you
nice

you damn fool, she said,
don't you see?

see what?

they keep looking at my beer-belly,
they think I'm
pregnant.

oh, I said, well here's to our beautiful
child.

here's to our beautiful child,
she said.

we drank them down.

mister muleboy said...

Hmmmmm.

Play The Piano Drunk Like A Percussion Instrument Until The Fingers Begin To Bleed A Bit

What a stupid title for a collection of poems.

NO ONE would ever read those.

No ONE would ever give a copy to his pal, turning him on to a lifetime's pleasure with Hank.

btw, I wish I had my copy here; I would insert my favourite poem of all time [which has all of three, or maybe four, lines].

Alas, I do not. Although I have cited it, at least to you misterparker, often.

Mister Parker said...

Before I go in search of that one, here's another one I like:

"the killer smiles"

the old girl friends still phone
some from last year
some from the year before
some from the years before that.
it's good to have things done with
when they don't work
it's also good not to hate
or even forget
the person you've failed
with.

and I like it when they tell me
they are having luck with a man
luck with their life.

after surviving me
they have many joys due them,
I make their lives seem better
after me.

now I have given them
comparisons
new horizons
new cocks
more peace
a good future
without me.

I always hang up,
justified.

Mister Parker said...

"art"
By Charles Bukowski

as the
spirit
wanes
the
form
appears.

Mister Parker said...

And here's a reminder to vote on Tuesday:

"face of a political candidate on a street billboard"
By Charles Bukowski

there he is:
not too many hangovers
not too many fights with women
not too many flat tires
never a thought of suicide

not more than three toothaches
never missed a meal
never in jail
never in love

7 pairs of shoes

a son in college

a car one year old

insurance policies

a very green lawn

garbage cans with tight lids

he'll be elected.

mister muleboy said...

Your remebered.

I'm touched.

And pleased.






This was the work that made me a Bukowski fan for life.

Notwithstanding my displeasure watching a documentary of his life. . . .

mister muleboy said...

I should'a said remembered.