Thursday, 11 October 2012


“The park grass looked greener, the park benches looked better and the flowers were trying harder.”
― Charles BukowskiHam on Rye

Goddaaaammmmm Bukowskiiiiiii........ Ham on Rye is a great book. Honest and dark, it broods and festers its way through Charles Bukowski's early years. I laughed a lot because he writes funny shit like this ......

“The dog approached again, cautiously. I found the bologna sandwich, ripped off a chunk, wiped the cheap watery mustard off, then placed it on the sidewalk.
The dog walked up to the bit of sandwich, put his nose to it, sniffed, then turned and walked off. This time he didn't look back. He accelerated down the street.
No wonder I had been depressed all my life. I wasn't getting proper nourishment. ” 
― Charles BukowskiHam on Rye

...and I cried my eyes out because in parts it was just heart breaking, Charles never got to go to the school dance instead google eyed and alone he is watching the beautiful young couples melting into each other on the dancefloor through the window. Upon which he is found by the campus  janitor and promptly told to fuck off. The reasons why Charles is not at the school dance are as follows....

1. he didnt want to go

2. no one would go with him 

3. he hates everyone 

So for some reason something about this scene connected with me because i started crying for the guy and it wasnt even regular crying it was different it was was actually hard to breathe properly after a minute or two.....and its bizarre because he was such an asshole to everyone but i knew he had the potential to be good.....there were eclipses of kindness....and ....i have a thing about potential in people.

Anyway it was just so unbelievably sad and desperate and unfair but i was still engaged with myself enough to know that the younger, ebullient, popular, athletic me would not have actually wanted to have to go to a dance with him and wear his wilting orchid on my wrist. I am aware that this older version of me would have probably fallen in love with him, believing he would love me back after he had hated me for a bit and i would understand him and he would soften, would become a sunflower...a rose....golden, he would blossom into something beautiful that all living things would adore and be drawn to like moths to a flame.

Pity is different to's not a feeling you want to hold or caress or kiss on the forehead, its more like one you want to put in a drawer you never use, so you never have to think about it again. EVER. Sad things are very hard to natural reaction to pity will probably make you hate yourself.

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