Friday, 12 March 2010
Bukowski is one of the forerunners of Xul thought. Someone who cared not for the struggle of man, for he himself was a product of struggle. Rising from a home he despised and a family he felt no love for. He sought the streets and found solace in those lonely avenues and cold benches. Finding warmth and companionship amongst the tired and disenfranchised. Staying warm with a stiff drink and a questionable woman. He gambled and played the chances. If his flavor of the week bitch didn't like it he slapped her down like a dog. He forged his own path with his own degradation. Subjecting himself to endless days of meaningless jobs to fuel his own lust for booze, women and something easier. Bukowski lead by example. If you didn't like it? Tough shit. There's no pity squandered on a lost soul.