People,

So yesterday I attended the films. I got out of work early and went to see the new documentary about Charles Bukowski.

It was kind of surreal, because I have been a Bukowski fan for years but had never heard him speak or seen any video footage of him before yesterday. He was both exactly as I imagined he would be and totally different. He had the profound ugliness that I always knew was there and he drank like a fish, but he also had this unexpectedly beautiful and gentle voice.

He was a complicated man and he made me think a lot about myself. Not that we're the same, but I think we are both sensitive and scared men who try to act tough. So it was strange to see something of a reflection of myself, and in many ways who I think I want to be, on screen and to think "this guy is a nice guy underneath, so why does he get loaded and act like such an asshole?"

Life is difficult and contradictory, summed up by the epitah on Bukowski's grave "Don't try". This is, of course, ridiculous because despite all his posturing he obviously tried very hard in his life but seemed to never think that he had succeeded, so it was easier to pretend he didn't care. I worry sometimes that that's exacly what I do but then I think that "Don't try" is possibly the last thing I want on my gravestone.

Anyway, this is my favorite Bukowski poem.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.


there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?