Well, I got introduced to a new poet. Charles Bukowski. From the beat generation, or so said the bio I read on line. And a former postal employee, so we have that in common. You can read more about his life here. A shorter bio and a few of his poems can be found here.

Its funny, because I was advised to spend more time reading Bukowski and less time with my preferred poets who coincidentally or not wound up killing themselves. Now, I must say that Mr. Bukowski’s writing does speak to me, but what I have found so far is not especially uplifting.

Anyway, as an example of his work, here’s one that I like quite a lot:

BEER
from: Love is A Mad Dog From Hell

I don’t know how many bottles of beer
I have consumed while waiting for things
to get better
I dont know how much wine and whisky
and beer
mostly beer
I have consumed after
splits with women-
waiting for the phone to ring
waiting for the sound of footsteps,
and the phone to ring
waiting for the sounds of footsteps,
and the phone never rings
until much later
and the footsteps never arrive
until much later
when my stomach is coming up
out of my mouth
they arrive as fresh as spring flowers:
“what the hell have you done to yourself?
it will be 3 days before you can fuck me!”

Yeah, I have days like that sometimes.

Oh well, time to get ready for my weekly humiliation at pool league. At least there will be plenty of beer…..

UPDATE: Well, I played excellent darts last night. I hit three double bulls in a row. Quite the sight to see three darts in the black at the same time. It will probably never happen again. Of course, I was playing darts between pool games. Both of which I lost. I did play better, at least I avoided embarassing myself. And now the season is over. I don’t know yet if I will be invited back next season, or even if I want to put myself through that torture. I’m gonna keep practicing though.

And the beer was good and plentiful.

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