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Authors: Charles Bukowski and Sheri Martinelli

Beerspit Night and Cursing (29 page)

BOOK: Beerspit Night and Cursing
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VITAMIN C CAN NOT BE GOT FROM ORANGEJUICE U N L E S S YOU PURCHASE IT FROM ORGANIC VILLE
4207 West 3rd St Los Angeles 5 Calif// where the oranges & so forth are grown without chemical sprays & poisons// I wish you’d drive over or wherever & let me know what kind of joint it is/// if you were
ONLY
a reliable moder-fkr I cd mail you down a list plus some $$$ & have you get us some organically grown foods & just stick it in to the Railway Express—we’d get it inside of 2 days/// OrganicVille wants a $10. order of produce organically grown or a $2. bit for handling small orders & how in hell are Gib & I to eat $10 worth of apples oranges celery & beets & so forth in one sitting with
NO
where to keep ’em?? no ice box down country nor hotel room// ’s a bitch to try to live healthy…as it is we go to a store here but the prices are high—still if you have ever eaten a vegetable grown naturally you’d never go back to the chemicals// you see my dear Buk—if you feed a vegetable chemical fertilizers & spray—the vegetable also is what it eats & when you eat it you might as well eat the chemicals & the poison because that is what you get// When you eat natural unsprayed foods you get full value/ it wd pay you to visit the store & just purchase
ONE
real orange or apple—the difference is mad…! I am having some vitamins sent to you—lemme know when/if they get there//

So far—you are all that
LIVES
in this land// Maj was alive—but the coloured folk want immediate results—they do not know that it even took Ez a whole life time—I cant make anybody rich ’n famous in a year// you have lasted…Wang has sold his arsehole for a position—Ernie goes off the main line & gets into the gotttamtist bypaths—but you Wobbling One have remained Constant/// I guess the Kaiser is fiercer than the Rabbi or the Medicine Man—but here
YOU
…La Druidessa hath kept pace…& there are those days not worth a nickel…

Tell yr “she” that yes the moon has an effect upon the watery parts of our brain but I do not think it controls the
MIND
unless it is chained to earth…Dante teaches “get past the sphere of Fortuna (
MOON
) to be free of Chance” Fate or whatever/// yr “he” is an ice cold turd & I would have shit one quietly & shoved it in his mackeral snapper if he answered my questions like that the narsty bitch

you are a cruel bastard bukowski but you are not a coward/// the rest are cruel
AND
cowardly…all but Ernie// Jory don’t matter—nor Wang—they are merely “contemporaries” & Ez sez: “ya kin forget about yr contemporaries”…but last night I thought that by remaining out in my private cloud world—that I was letting you all alone with the
UN
americans who do not know how to write in english & are not really what they got born because they
WANT
so ambitiously to write in english but
hear now Buk—the
BEST
never pay any attention to them—so actually they aint much threat—damm it all—if only the river wd part & let me see a clear path instead of trying to make each decision on my own—Gib cant help because his values aint mine

Yes—
Agenda
goes off but at least I can work with
Cookson
—do a cover for
Agenda
/// and who gets inside that I dig is Rev. Swabey who is a serious man// don’t know what he’d think of
Satis
…maybe we shd
INFILTRATE
like Der Tong did—now maybe that is the way—but O! Lawd! Shall it be said of the Wilde Goose that she took off the way th’ Old Blawck Vulchurss Ventttddttt???? oye Ma’ Mia…it’s ’nuff to make a Zaint vrummm hebben smoker der veewdttttt

now I go—it is so grey in here being only 10/10 a.m. dot I kin hardtttly zee…& thank you for
Satis
& I will ponder this new problem…

love

Shed//

Sheri

LISTEN AT THAT HEALTH STORE GET A COPY OF
PREVENTION MAGAZINE
FOR
35¢…a dec. copy & turn to p. 35 & you send for the vitamins yrself Buk/ costs 25¢ & then about $5. month for
ALL NATURAL VITAMINS
plus info. on them—so do it…I just thought that they wdn’t let me send them to you & I already got some for my inlaws & my parents & I’ll pay the $5. m.o. for them but wdn’t let me send for [
illegible
]

 

note: it is so fkn coldttt in this unheated hotel in this cold chill rain that I just got up & fished out Gib’s old army underdrawers midtt long laigs & put them on…I got on a sweater// a jumper of wool// my wool socks & my snow boots & now the long army wool drawers…look like a floradora goirl with the skirt up & a bear with the skirt down…

I mean about those vitamins// they send you a full months supply of
NATURAL
…that means no coal tar nor other chemicals…vitamins for 25¢ trial of 100—then they mail you yr supply for 25¢ cheaper until you no longer want them & I got some for my parents who cannot be educated any more than
YOU
—but I little pill at least the dopes
WILL
take so I’ll send them their 100 pills which just got here this a.m. & mail back the card saying yes I’ll send the $2.25 every 2 weeks or so—& I just realised that you’d be getting the card & you’d be salty maybe if I stuck you for $2.25 each 2 wks….but you simple lookin’ s.o.b. & double distilled bastid
THEY WILL BE A FOOD SUPPLIMENT TO
yr green beer—I hardly eat anything now that I use the food suppliments—anyhow got no time for it am that busy—just eat bare minimum// So get a copy of
Prevention
& send 25¢ to these people// don’t be a juice square buk//

now must go—oh mah knees are finally warm—this is the first time I ever wore pants in mah life! It is that cold in this joint…alls I got for heat is my little hot plate for making 2—to heat 2 rooms—oh give me the artist life…the gay romantic artist life…with a heart that’s free as the open sea & an ass that’s coldttt as th’ skies…so long buk—ah is coldttttt as a frozen turd…

Sheri

L.A. cold Dec. [10] 1961

Shed, girl-woman:

D.R. Wang has written one good poem that I know of. (
Quicksilver
, Summer 1960). To wit, and with the usual senseless dedication:

Postscript
(to Max Finstein)

All night long
a mosquito
zanzanzara
zips and unzips
my nerves.
Should I kill
kamikaze
slap dash
ouch goes
my soul.

now this is not a bad poem, really. And so let’s give
DEDICATION DAVID
a bow, and then let him go.

I work better alone, Princess; let’s not join hands.

Rec. your enclosures and have mailed them on to Corrington.

You better keep on my good side, baby, if you want any more drawings for any more future…whatever the long name of your thing is.

Your Ernie will blast me from witchhazel to Sutter’s Creek but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I will run over to 4207 W. 3rd. eventually and see what’s cooking or wats not sprayed. Will give you a fullsome picture of the proprietor and all the helty handsome rats.

Yes, you’re right. Major wants so badly to be famous he won’t take time to wipe his ass. This need prob. springs partly out of the colored thing, and it’s too bad.

There is a person who wants my friendship and he dribbles his soul upon me at every opp. It is a slimey sickening mess, but since we spring from similar environments,

by learning what he wants
I learn what to leave alone

because I know that he is dead

by the pale shell color of his eyes.

Yes, you are right. I am cruel. It cuts away a lot of mess. Cruelty is usually the tool of the masses. I have learned to use this tool to gain time and solitude, 2 important factors for anybody bit with the creator-bug.

This is a bad letter and it is a bad afternoon and I am sitting here drinking beer and smoking Salems and the menthol is too much, and the old woman has phoned and I have said no, no, I can’t see you I will bring your coat and shoes over to you, it is a bad day, I do not feel good.

Ok, she says, I know how you get.

They god damned better know because when I don’t want to be fucked with I don’t want to be fucked with.

I am sorry I could not understand the
Mancho
on your letters; prob. hog-color cuss wurds by the Princess, but looked nize.

All last night I kept hearing this sound, it was like the clicking of steel marbles every 30 seconds or like the axeman swiping off a head and I thought

what the hell

oh what the merry hell now????

because I don’t sleep good anyhow

and so I laid there awake all night. if there hadda been a big woman cow

I coulda put my cold feet on the backs of her calves,

and I got up in the morning looking more Buk than ever (which is bad)

and found the sink was dripping onto a piece of wax paper,

and so today am in no mood for writing letters.

Don’t know if I told you.
Satis
going to run me a free ad on
Longshots
. Also a couple of my poems in the Spring 1962 issue. Editor suggested another outfit for me in England but I don’t have any more poems right now. They operate out of a basement, which I like. Good things can come from a basement that cannot come from any where else. There is something holy in poverty that makes you strong—if you know how to handle it. If you don’t know how to handle it you might as well be rich because whatever god there is is wasting his benefits on you.

And now that I have poisoned your air, I’m leaving.

love, frum

krautpollock

Bukowski

burning earth farmer burning field

air message;

p.79 H.D. “yet the ancient rubrics reveal that
we are back at the beginning:”

“enigmas, rubrics promise as before
protection for the scribe;

he takes precedence of the priest,

stands second only to the Pharaoh.”

thou’rt a scribe

i am one—“second only to the Pharaoh”

and the Pharaoh is coming; I am waiting now for the Pharaoh; read
The Flowering of the Rod
about the wild geese & what

the world is

read
The Helmsman
“we have always known you wanted us” what better prayer?

I never read poetry unless i reach the mind state of intense agony where i have no way to turn & i am helpless…either without money or wheels or friends or even po li…in agony & helpless then i turn to the record & i only can read those words that are like balm on my writhing brains…they cool me & heal me & then i know why the agony came down on me…to force me to
KNOW
& it was no different with H.D. or ezra…

now to yr 2 lets: when say kicked me out of nest am using image—it was a nest in st. liz…warm & cozy & am now on own…poor birdie hardly knew how to fly when scorpion tossed eternal light to her & cut out for italy/ re: theories of painting clip/ there is never more than one or 2 great artists of any period…the rest is theory; the art that remains is the art that dealt with the hidden realities of the age; its eternal beauty/ i am the only painter that will matter because one of my works has the power to change what surrounds it & not to be changed—w[yndham]. lewis is our greatest ‘social’ painter;
gautier
our sculptor; and the Hawk is the painter…not interested in slopin’ up the world with art…but to plant seeds…& harvest in the few churrrrr

observe that
Pascin
cannot draw hands or feet

nor breasts…but only can make a picture of it; that is not eternal art

that is the monkey doing flesh pictures charrrrrrrRRRRRRRRming and dated/ his yiddish girls are without great spirit & depressed & all cunt which is not the real love hole; it goes into the mind which aint the brain but being in the mind it convulses the brain & that in turn twitches the cunt or rooster stick/ but it begins in the mind…even the hollywood jews who letch & lust & got gold to pay…it starts in their mind…a love of beauty that is so tied in with their genius for decaying…that it wd lust the purity out of love…but nevertheless the process is the same as sacred love/ Pascin an interesting Jew with a Yen for Beauty; that is no goddess he gives us but an earth worm’s view of a hunk of beefsteak in good prime & a swell smell when cookin’

doz all/ the zen joke is another yiddish comment to dumb xtian tits in bed; north beach full of xtian tits or painted faces who wd grab
ANY
stage to emote upon…even the snarl; fuck & drop one…yes ernie
CAN
write buk/ he has that good yiddish clarity of mind; he wont give us poetry duckder but he will give us an
INSIGHT
into literature & after all the degree that ernie is going to have to teach has got to have the insight brought before them; they are too buried under age-old hate for poetry…ernie is a Jew who has no hate in him…only grief…

the remainder of this letter seems to be in a forgotten language resembling english but not being it so turning to other let/

h.d. not “proper” or “formal”—she is more economical but still us…magic deciphers key stones information valuables—world of american art not same as w. of europ. art; h.d.’s audience in europe/ ours is here & some times i write for them too when i have impulse/ they know more at a certain degree so i can say less & mean more—way h.d. does; human
pain is so old that it aint news in europe; yes yew iz a german pollack ah lived in them neighborhoods as kid; very familiar face…kind & good people & loving…

go read on tape buk you coward; these kids need some road to follow wild geese leader…that is a way…try to give them some respectability…but insist on yr own terms…make ’em come to you…it is safety from the mob it is ‘respectability’ it is putting the power in yr hands to help another scribe in pain; do not be so selfish—it is not you—it is truth we are keeping alive/ & when one comes burning with truth…is beer
ALL
you’ll be able to give?? com’n you big dumb pollack…go make those bastards with their wires & holes & tapes & horseshit etc…make ’em
W O R K FOR US
who are out of egypt & return to it…or i will kick yr ass when i get you back inside that tomb you dumb dickhead; stop
POSING AS AN AWTIZ & GO TO WORK SHITHEAD
take anything…snatch anything…but make yr own terms…and do not go there or let them come unless you can be yrself…no matter vottddddd kidttt…it is a
POSE
to deny any poet…you or any other…a place in the sun; after my work on earth be done…there will be a wee hope for the female of our kind…black white pink gold grey or yalllerrr…because i will take anything i can to help…i wd shit in public if they’d pay me for it & then give money to little
beverly
to write her purple passions out…i wd crawl on my belly like a cur…if i knew a pair of boots that wd feed crumbs to my little chickens…

BOOK: Beerspit Night and Cursing
4.75Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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