poeticoutlaws poetry poetrycommunity philosophy bukowski charlesbukowski existentialism jimmorrison pabloneruda poems writer nietzsche oscarwilde regrann waltwhitman albertcamus atilailhan biggiesmalls bobmarley carljung catcherintherye dhlawrence ernesthemingway godfather jamesdean jdsalinger literature lovequotes marktwain plato batikanakmuda
but I remembered the 7 years in the bar, I hardly ever bedded
down with anybody
the gods just won't let a man drink alone, they are jealous of
his simple strength and salvation, they will send the lady
knocking upon that door
I remember all those cheap hotels, it were as if the women
were one: the delicate little rap on the wood and then:
"oh, I heard you playing that music on your radio...we're
neighbors, I'm down at 603 but I've never even seen you in
the hall..." "come on in..." - Bukowski
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There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.
- Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
Human relationships didn't work anyhow. Only the first two weeks had any zing, then the participants lost their interest. Masks dropped away and real people began to appear: cranks, imbeciles, the demented, the vengeful, sadists, killers. Modern society had created its own kind and they feasted on each other. It was a duel to the death--in a cesspool.
- Charles Bukowski
What happened to all the fucking passion? What ever happened to soul, class, that spark that could light up the whole world? There’s no such thing as class anymore baby, we don’t do things because we want to, we do it all for money, for fame, for some fucking internet points. What ever happened to passion? #rant
Good morning, Hell-A. In the land of the lotus-eaters, time plays tricks on you. One day you’re dreaming, the next, your dream has become your reality. It was the best of times. If only someone had told me. Mistakes were made, hearts were broken, harsh lessons learned. My family goes on without me, while I drown in a sea of pointless pussy. I don’t know how I got here. But here I am, rotting away in the warm California sun. There are things I need to figure out, for her sake, at least. The clock is ticking. The gap is widening. She won’t always love me “no matter what
- Hank Moody