Day 12045 ht 10 hands 180 lbs No Name No lumps No Bumps Full life Clear Two good eyes No Busted limbs Piss OK Genitals intact Multiple scars Heals Fast O-NEGATIVE HIGH OCTANE UNIVERSAL DONOR Lone Road Warrior Rundown on the Powder Lakes V8 No guzzoline No supplies ISOLATE PSYCHOTIC Keep Muzzled …
hello I am in an argument with my mum and I really want to prove something to her -
please reblog this if you believe that pansexual, bisexual, polysexual, transgender, non binary, agender, asexual, aromanitc and anyone who identifies as anything on the lgbtq+ spectrum are valid
“People come to my door—too many of them really—and knock to tell me Notes of a Dirty Old Man turns them on. A bum off the road brings in a gypsy and his wife and we talk… drink half the night. A long distance operator from Newburgh, N.Y. sends me money. She wants me to give up drinking beer and to eat well. I hear from a madman who calls himself ‘King Arthur’ and lives on Vine Street in Hollywood and wants to help me write my column. A doctor comes to my door: 'I read your column and think I can help you. I used to be a psychiatrist.’ I send him away…”
With Bukowski, the votes are still coming in. There seems to be no middle ground—people seem either to love him or hate him. Tales of his own life and doings are as wild and weird as the very stories he writes. In a sense, Bukowski was a legend in his time … a madman, a recluse, a lover … tender, vicious … never the same … these are exceptional stories that come pounding out of his violent and depraved life … horrible and holy, you cannot read them and ever come away the same again.
These dirty and immortal stories appeared mainly in Underground newspapers, with Open City and Nola Express leading in the publication of them. Others have appeared in Evergreen Review, Knight, Pix, Berkeley Barb, Adam, and Adam Reader.