I get many letters in the mail about my writing, and they say: ‘Bukowski, you are so fucked up and you still survive. I decided not to kill myself.’ . . . So in a way I save people. . . . Not that I want to save them: I have no desire to save anybody. . . . So these are my readers, you see? They buy my books—the defeated, the demented and the damned—and I am proud of it.
ive worn heart shaped glasses for almost 4 years and they are just like my Thing and i love them so much and so often people will say shit like Oh Id Love To Wear Something Like That But I Could Never Pull It Off and like… babe no one can theyre heart shaped glasses u dont wear them to look flattering or stylish or whatever u wear them to make ur soul happy
stop worrying about whether u look Nice and start worrying about whether u look like You
i didnt articulate it well so i just wanna clarify. the point of this post was not “fuck the haters wear what you want” it was “fuck the idea that clothes and accessories exist to make you look good they should exist to make you happy”
you want to watch a movie. you put it on. two hours have passed. you haven’t watched the movie. there are five new tasks in front of you. you want to watch a different movie.
there is an object in your hand. it is extremely important you don’t lose it. you look down. there is nothing in your hand.
you don’t know your friend’s name. you’ve been friends for months. they just told you their name. you do not know their name.
your friend doesn’t laugh at your joke. why didn’t they laugh? do they hate you? they assure you otherwise. you know they are lying. did they ever like you?
someone asks you what you just said. did you say something? you said so many things. you said nothing. you said everything.
there is something you’re forgetting. you check. you check again. there is nothing you’re forgetting. there is something you’re forgetting.
you had something to say. you can’t remember. it was important. wasn’t it? you can’t remember.
there is a task that needs to be done. it should take ten minutes. you check the clock. it’s been five minutes. you check the clock. it’s been two days.
Who gave you this summary of my week
you are excited to do the thing. you are eager to do the thing. you do not do the thing and you cannot say why. your body is operated by a force beyond yourself.
you awake and lie in bed. you plan a detail to-do list in your head. excited, you step out of bed only to feel the motivation drain off of you like oil from a duck’s back. the bed calls to you like a siren to a sailor
did you lock the door? if you check, you will have locked the door. if you do not check, you will not have locked the door. if you check and have locked the door there is a reasonable chance you will accidentally unlock the door. there is no way to win this game.
you are hungry. you eat nothing. you are not hungry. you eat everything. the moon laughs at you.
you have had a tune stuck in your head for three days now. it is not a tune that exists on earth. it will not leave.
