Friday, August 15, 2014

Thanks a bunch, Charles Bukowski

In which Charles talks us into it, then we own up

It's not like we planned on coming here today. Seems like Friday's a good day to give it a rest. Sure. Then, two things. Tomorrow seems to be Charles Bukowski's birthday. Kind of a friend of our main guy Ray. So there's that. But damn the RSS feeds, it made us read this for the first time

so you want to be a writer

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
searching for words,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it for money or
don’t do it....
read the rest

Well, not like we're Bukowski devotees or whatever, but this got us pondering, what makes a person write a bad blog for 12 years? Not because we're staring blankly at our computer screen, or making money or basking in fame. Maybe a little more of that bursting business. Not bursting like a supernova but more like kids bursting out of doors after school.

And then. Someone questioned us today on the origins of our frig poems. We had to assure that person these poems come bursting (a-hem) from 1) our frig, the blank slate (see above) 2) the frig magnet kit (poetry edition) and 3) our own brain. So it was mildly hilarious to us that any person would think these weak things could come from any other source.

When one writes, on the frig or otherwise, this

You can feel the light start to tremble, / Washing what you know out to sea. / You can see your life out of the window tonight.

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