Bukowski on breakups

Good evening from the land of lost mittens! Some photos on this dark wintery Thursday evening.

Morning read:

Vintage dental ribbon from a fun by-appointment-only antique store up north:

(The best for cleaning between the fangs)

Backpack fulla Sharpies:

And check this site of funny iPhone auto-correct hilarity.

And, finally, for the lovelorn lovers out there — Bukowski on breakups:

“I thought about breakups, how difficult they were, but then usually it was only after you broke up with one woman that you met another. As a writer, I had to taste women in order to really know them, to get inside of them. I could invent men in my mind because I was one, but women, for me, were almost impossible to fictionalize without first knowing them. So I explored them as best I could and I found human beings inside. The writing would be forgotten. The writing would become much less than the episode itself until the episode ended. The writing was only the residue. A man didn’t need to have a woman in order to feel as real as he could feel, but it was good if he knew a few. Then when the affair went wrong, he’d feel what it was like to be truly lonely and crazed, and thus know what he must face, finally, when his own end came.

I was sentimental about many things: a woman’s shoes under the bed; one hairpin left behind on the dresser; the way they said, “I’m going to pee…”; hair ribbons; walking down the boulevard with them at 1:30 in the afternoon, just two people walking together; the long nights of drinking and smoking, talking; the arguments; thinking of suicide; eating together and feeling good; the jokes, the laughter out of nowhere; feeling miracles in the air; being in a parked car together; comparing past loves at 3 AM; being told you snore, hearing her snore; mothers, daughters, sons, cats, dogs; sometimes death and sometimes divorce, but always carrying on, always seeing it through; reading a newspaper alone in a sandwich joint and feeling nausea because she’s now married to a dentist with an I.Q. of 95; racetracks, parks, park picnics; even jails; her dull friends, your dull friends; your drinking, her dancing; your flirting; her pills, your fucking on the side, and her doing the same; sleeping together…

There were no judgments to be made, yet out of necessity one had to select. Beyond good and evil was all right in theory, but to go on living one had to select: some were kinder than others, some were simply more interested in you, and sometimes the outwardly beautiful and inwardly cold were necessary. The kinder ones fucked better, really, and after you were around them a while they seemed beautiful because they were.”

Hope you feel better now. As you were.

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One response to “Bukowski on breakups

  1. As I was? After that? Yeah, right.

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