bukowski

"i'm in a bookshop and i see a book by charles bukowski. it's the 3rd time i've seen his name in as many weeks. i put down the copy of playboy and saunter over to have a look. the most beautiful girl in town. i read the back. who is this bukowski guy? why does he keep turning up in my life?

i flick through the book. his stories are quite short. i look around and i see piles of books i will never read. the bukowski book is in the business section. 10 habits of successful people. how to be happy in 10 moves. your life on a stick as we know it. he eats typewriter ribbon does he? what's his game? why do the norwegian's love him?

i begin to read the most beautiful girl in town. it's short. i reckon i can finish it in a few minutes. i read. it's about someone called cass. she's the most beautiful girl in town. it's about someone who hangs around in bars. he talks to cass. i wonder who the hell buys all these business books. next to the business books are the self help books. i heard they secretly hypnotise you as you read so you really can give up smoking or conquer the world.

bukowski writes a good sentence. i try to memorise it so i can use it later in conversation and claim it as my own again. i repeat it a few times, but it becomes mangled in my brain. it loses the context and dies. something about the stupidity of living and housewives.

i finish the story. i look around and everything seems different. the people are all a bit odd. i feel the urge to take a torch and burn all the books in this goddam awful place. i thank god i don't have a gun. i imagine all the pages bursting into flames and the whole building as a raging inferno.

i walk out of the bookshop without having bought anything. who is this charles bukowski anyway?"