Monday, February 15, 2010


This used to be my favourite poem by Bukowski. I'm pretty sure I dedicated it to Matt when we started dating.

I don't know how I feel about Bukowski now. When I was 22 I bought every one of his books. Black Sparrow went under in 2003 and I snatched them from Pages, they were on sale for $8 each. Now I feel that he is repetitive, violent. There is no humour. No, there is humour but it's not lighthearted. It's dark, sad. I guess that's what I enjoy sometimes and I should just accept it.

I should be finishing my thesis document but instead I started writing my "memoirs". I'm not kidding! I'm a nobody. But I think the tiny stories of my life are worth writing down. Besides, there is senility in my family and I would like to remember some of what transpired.

Today is the most beautiful, sunny! Matt is upstairs watching Reality Bites and I'm down here listening to Al Green and writing with the sun on my face. Totally calm.



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