I designed the image above using one of my favorite images of the late and great poet deadbeat laureate master, Henry Charles Bukowski. Being that Bukowski is one of my top three favorite authors of all time, I think of August 16th as something of a holiday.
And so: I took the day off work, didn’t get out of bed until noon, found a copy of his book Women at Half Price Books to add to my ever-growing Bukowski collection, and am finishing my day with a few brews.
So at the risk of sounding dramatic, here’s a drink to your old bones that I still dream of, Chinaski.Jessica J. Johnston
Judith looked all wrong. Her hair was pulled back tightly; she was wearing some cheap polka-dotted dress she’d bought at a thrift shop. Our meeting was all full of false starts. What’s going on at school? How is your painting? What did you do over spring break? What music are you listening to? Then it got into harder stuff. I took her hands. I grabbed at them greedily and held them in my lap. Why wasn’t I good enough? I asked. Why couldn’t I be closer to her than I was? What was I doing wrong? Why was I so bad at human commerce when it was the thing I wanted more than anything? — Rick Moody, The Brightest Ring of Angels Around Heaven