Monday, August 11, 2014

Charles Bukowski Week Begins Today

I would have started it yesterday, so it would be a full seven days, with the week ending on the great man’s 94th birthday this Saturday. This seems more fitting. Buk himself probably would have passed on celebrating for an entire whole week. Also, it makes sense to start it on Monday. 

Something that escapes most bourgeois fans of the Last Poet Who Mattered is that Bukowski worked for a living. Not because he wanted to, not for “material” for his writing, but because that’s the way the plantation is set up for most people who are not to the McMansion born. Slave or starve. Endure the abuse of the boss and the customers and all the other poor, troubled people you work with, or enjoy trying to get a nap on the dirty concrete outdoors before the Protect and Serve crew move you along with their sticks and shoe tips.

I could have set these memes to go earlier—I should have set these memes up to be automatically published as the week goes on, as I’ll be working ten-and-a-half hour days from now until Friday at the campus bookstore. I’m in for a long, miserable week. It’s kicking off early, as the smoke detector decided to let me know the battery was dying at 3 a.m., and my wife thrashed around in her sleep after I went and took the smoke detector off the ceiling and put it in the garage. Oh, yeah, a real sweet start. 

Maybe I’ll get some ideas while at work this week. They’re not happening here at home, not even in my basement sanctuary, and the bills aren’t paying themselves, besides.

I'll make a deal with myself. Let’s get this week started, get it over with, and on Friday and Saturday nights, I’ll get roaring drunk. We’ll work it out as we go. 

Charles “Hank” Bukowski would understand, and, for that, among many reasons, is why I honor him this week.