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3.51 AVERAGE
3.51 AVERAGE
I tried really hard to finish this book. Once I got about halfway through and it said “I stretched out and whacked-off thinking about a little girl I had seen on a red bicycle about a week ago.” it was over for me.
Bukowski is an egotistical asshole with no respect for women. I wanted to enjoy this book and it kept getting worse as I went along. Would not recommend.
Bukowski is an egotistical asshole with no respect for women. I wanted to enjoy this book and it kept getting worse as I went along. Would not recommend.
Stunning poetry. Grossly inappropriate content. Not for children, virgins, or optimists.
I think I like Bukowski's poems even more than his stories. The way he writes is simple but what he says rings so true. I particularly loved "the crunch" and "462-0614".
funny
sad
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
N/A
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Despite some of his beautiful turns of phrase, I can't fully endorse this weird, drunk, pedo.
You boys can keep your virgins give me hot old women in high heels with asses that forgot to get old.
Don’t undress my love you might find a mannequin; don’t undress the mannequin you might find my love.
Human relationships simply aren’t durable.
I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.
she has hurt fewer people than anybody I know, and if you look at it like that, well, she has created a better world. She has won.
Sometimes I get out of practice out of tune. That’s all right.
I’ve known too many women and instead of thinking, I wonder who’s fucking her now? I think she’s giving some other poor son of a bitch much trouble right now.
I wish I were driving a blue 1952 Buick or a dark blue 1942 Buick or a blue 1932 Buick over a cliff of hell and into the sea.
The human sewage system is the world’s greatest invention. And you invented me and I invented you and that’s why we don’t get along on this bed any longer. You were the world’s greatest invention until you flushed me away.
I don’t know why people fuck with the stuff, there’s not that much to it. I think they’re all losers and they want to lose real bad. There’s no other way, it’s like they can’t get where they’re going or want to go and there’s no other way. This has got to be it.
I am going to start selling air in dark orange bags marked: moon-blooms
There is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock.
you realize that if I were an adding machine I might break down tabulating how many times you’ve used that light brown stare? Not that you’re not the best with your light brown stare.
Someday some crazy son of a bitch is going to murder you
Her kisses tasted like shitsoup.
read Hemingway only once, skip Faulkner ignore Gogol stare at photos of Gertrude Stein and read Sherwood Anderson in bed while eating Ritz crackers,
The bedpan is a merciless rock a horrible mockery because nobody wants to drag your failing body to the crapper and back.
So there we are: back to the barter system, the only way to beat inflation.
There is that which helps you believe in something else besides death:
You boys can keep your virgins give me hot old women in high heels with asses that forgot to get old.
Don’t undress my love you might find a mannequin; don’t undress the mannequin you might find my love.
Human relationships simply aren’t durable.
I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.
she has hurt fewer people than anybody I know, and if you look at it like that, well, she has created a better world. She has won.
Sometimes I get out of practice out of tune. That’s all right.
I’ve known too many women and instead of thinking, I wonder who’s fucking her now? I think she’s giving some other poor son of a bitch much trouble right now.
I wish I were driving a blue 1952 Buick or a dark blue 1942 Buick or a blue 1932 Buick over a cliff of hell and into the sea.
The human sewage system is the world’s greatest invention. And you invented me and I invented you and that’s why we don’t get along on this bed any longer. You were the world’s greatest invention until you flushed me away.
I don’t know why people fuck with the stuff, there’s not that much to it. I think they’re all losers and they want to lose real bad. There’s no other way, it’s like they can’t get where they’re going or want to go and there’s no other way. This has got to be it.
I am going to start selling air in dark orange bags marked: moon-blooms
There is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock.
you realize that if I were an adding machine I might break down tabulating how many times you’ve used that light brown stare? Not that you’re not the best with your light brown stare.
Someday some crazy son of a bitch is going to murder you
Her kisses tasted like shitsoup.
read Hemingway only once, skip Faulkner ignore Gogol stare at photos of Gertrude Stein and read Sherwood Anderson in bed while eating Ritz crackers,
The bedpan is a merciless rock a horrible mockery because nobody wants to drag your failing body to the crapper and back.
So there we are: back to the barter system, the only way to beat inflation.
There is that which helps you believe in something else besides death:
Well, let's be honest. He's such an asshole! Most part of these poems are about sex, alcohol, more sex, people he wanted to have sex with, very sad and confusing moments. Some of the poems are beautiful and others are kind of offensive, but that's Charles Bukowski. I don't like the way the treats women, but at least he's very honest about it and somehow he makes me laugh.
It was fun. I like how you really get a sense of his personality through his poetry.