Charles Bukowski profile picture

Charles Bukowski

The more crap you believe, the better off you are

About Me

I was born in Andernach, Germany in the 1920's to an american soldier and a german mother. Moved to Los Angeles when I was about 3. I published my first short story, "Aftermath of a Lengthy Rejection Slip," when I was 24. From 1945 to 1955, I published only a few short stories then i published my first poetry at 35. I've never been lonely. I've been in a room- I've felt suicidal. I've been depressed. I've felt awful- awful beyond all- but I've never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me... or that any number of people could...

Charles Bukowski is buried at
Green Hills Memorial Park at 27051 South Western Avenue in Rancho Palos Verdes, CA, 90275, Ocean View, Lot I, No. 875.

My Interests

This poetry-thing is the worst sort of crutch. It weakens a man. And if a man is weak before he writes poetry he becomes, finally, through the strumming of shadows and wailing, he becomes finally what he is- just another fine pink juicy boy doing his god damned job in the frailest and most vomiting way. I also enjoy drinking, writing, eating, being a drifter, a grifter, a con artist, a lover, a fighter, a better, a loser. i like women of all sorts and shapes and sizes.

I'd like to meet:

prostitutes, transvestites, fellow poets, ladies, a good bottle of whiskey.

Music:

Classical Music: Sibelius. Because of the long deep tonality. And a passion that knocks your lights out

Movies:

Bar Fly: You've got to instinct what will suck you dry. Barfly is not a great film, but it kicks along. I've seen it 2 or 3 times, and it always makes me thirsty.

Books:

*Flower, Fist and Bestial Wail, 1960*Longshot Poems for Broke Players, 1962*Run with the Hunted, 1962*It Catches My Heart in Its Hands, 1963*Crucifix in a Deathhand, 1965*Cold Dogs in the Courtyard, 1965*Confessions of a Man Insane Enough to Live with Beasts, 1965*All the Assholes in the World and Mine, 1966*At Terror Street and Agony Way, 1968*Poems Written Before Jumping out of an 8 Story Window, 1968*Notes of a Dirty Old Man, 1969*A Bukowski Sampler, 1969*The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses Over the Hills, 1969*Fire Station 1970*Post Office, 1971*Mockingbird Wish Me Luck 1972*Erections, Ejaculations, Exhibitions and General Tales of Ordinary Madness, 1972*South of No North, 1973*Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame: Selected Poems 1955-1973, 1974*Factotum, 1975*Love Is a Dog from Hell: Poems 1974-1977, 1977*Women, 1978*Play the Piano Drunk/Like a Percussion Instrument/Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit, 1979*Shakespeare Never Did This, 1979*Dangling in the Tournefortia, 1981*Ham on Rye, 1982*Bring Me Your Love, 1983 ( Robert Crumb, illustrator.*Most Beautiful Woman in Town & Other Stories, 1983*Hot Water Music, 1983*There's No Business, 1984*War All the Time: Poems 1981-1984, 1984*You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense, 1986*The Movie: "Barfly", 1987*The Roominghouse Madrigals: Early Selected Poems, 1946-1966, 1988*Tales of Ordinary Madness*Hollywood, 1989*Septuagenarian Stew: Stories & Poems, 1990*The Last Night of the Earth Poems, 1992*Run With the Hunted: A Charles Bukowski Reader (edited by John Martin), 1993 (audio edition, read by Bukowski)*Screams from the Balcony: Selected Letters 1960-1970, 1993*Pulp, 1994*Living On Luck: Letters Vol. 2 60's - 70's, 1995*Betting on the Muse: Poems & Stories*Bone Palace Ballet: New Poems*The Captain is Out to Lunch and the Sailors Have Taken Over the Ship, 1998. Robert Crumb, illustrator.*What Matters Most Is How Well You Walk Through the Fire *Open All Night: New Poems, Oct. 2000. *Night Torn Mad With Footsteps, Sep. 2001.

Heroes:

no hereos... i am my own hero.

My Blog

Women #3

We remained apart for a week. Then one afternoon I was over at Lydia's place and we were on her bed, kissing. Lydia pulled away. "You don't know anything about women, do you?" "What do you mean?...
Posted by Charles Bukowski on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST

Women #2

Dear Mr.Chinaski, You don't know me but I'm a cute bitch. I've been going with Sailors and one truck driver but they don't satisfy me. I mean, we fuck and there's nothing more. There's no substance...
Posted by Charles Bukowski on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST

Women #1

Lydia met me at the airport. She was horny as usual. "Jesus Christ!" she said. "I'm hot! I play with myself but it doesn't do any good." We were driving back to my place. "Lydia, my leg is st...
Posted by Charles Bukowski on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST

Factotum

She was the managers secretary. Her name was Carmen- but despite the Spanish name she was a blonde and she wore tight knitted dresses, high spiked heels, nylons, garter belt, her mouth was thick with ...
Posted by Charles Bukowski on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST

Post Office

It began as a mistake. It was Christmas season and I learned from the drunk up the hill, who did the trick every Christmas, that they would hire damned near anybody, and so I went and the next thin...
Posted by Charles Bukowski on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST

Confessions of a man insane enough to live with the beasts #3

It was like a wood drill, it might have been a wood drill, I could smell the oil burning, and they'd stick that thing into my head into my flesh and it would drill and bring up blood and puss, and I'd...
Posted by Charles Bukowski on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST

Confessions of a man insane enough to live with the beasts #2

K. was an ex-showgirl and she used to show me the clippings and photos. She'd almost won a Miss America contest. I met her in an Alvarado St. bar, which is about as close to getting to skid row as you...
Posted by Charles Bukowski on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST

Confessions of a man insane enough to live with the beasts #1

I remember jacking-off in the closet after putting on my mother's high-heels and looking at my legs in the mirror, slowly drawing a cloth up over my legs, higher and higher as if peeking up the legs o...
Posted by Charles Bukowski on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST