Tuesday, March 5, 2013

The Destination Of Inspiration

                                                 photo courtesy of www.biography.com

It's not secret to anyone that my love affair with Charles Bukowski is paramount to all other literary figures. It was him that inspired me to begin writing in the first place. It has now been a ten-plus year journey that has had its ups and downs.

I've never really been able to relate to why Hank always struck a chord with me, but ever since an introduction to literature course I took my second semester in college, I was hooked by his words, which at many times could be lovingly described as vulgar.

And maybe that's why I always related to him. Not that I'm a pervert, or degenerate, but boiling things down to their lowest common denominator has always been my calling card. Why waste time and energy being indirect. 

It's best to speak in a no-nonsense manner. And if people don't agree, I think Bukowski would probably call them full of shit and throw a punch. 

Which might not be MY style, but the part about being blunt certainly rings true. It was put to me a couple of weeks ago by a friend that I generally "give zero fucks."

There is a level of honesty in his writings that simply led me to fall in love instantaneously. Vulgarity and subject matter aside, the guy knew how to tell a story. I'd love to say that I could carry that mantle into my generation, but at the end of the day, it might be hard since my parents don't constantly beat each other, my car runs perfectly and I only enjoy the occasional drink. 

Even so, it's something to shoot for.

Taking my cues from a guy that said that one of the keys to life was "to fuck a great many women," and wrote countless stories of brutal violence and blackout drinking might not be something that many people would expect from me. And despite the fact that he seemed to be an abusive alcoholic, and lived a life of pain and suffering, there was a great beauty in his written words. And clearly I'm not the only one that thinks so. To wit, Bukowski is now regarded as an essential figure in the genre of literature.

Which in the end is not too bad for a guy whose tombstone reads "Don't try."
















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