Of Mad Affairs, Tall Blondes & Drunken Poets
leather jacket
sideburns
pomp and punk
I was having this mad
fatal attraction
body heat type affair at the time
with this tall blue eyed blonde from the Dakotas
that everyone thought was my sister
she hated men but loved me for a time
I loved the energy and the thrill of it
not quite understanding
just what it was I had
let myself get involved in
my dick was in a wringer
and I didn't have a
clue
young
full of myself
confused and pissed off at the world
god awful childhood in tow
I thought I was some kind of a poet
because I could
belch and fart a few words onto a piece of paper
pulled thru my huge black metal
typewriter with a wide legal bail
a monstorous machine that could double as a free-weight for
biceps and pectorals
there was a party down in Long Beach
I was to meet my crazy blonde there
an okay shindig
I had a few quick beers and proceeded to
launch into a conversation with some guy about the bodacious blonde I was
ruining my life with and poetry
my poetry
"Fuck this!"
and "Fuck that!"
I was on a roll
during the course of our exchange
this guy asks me
if I had ever read
Bukowski
"Who?"
"Bukowski. Charles Bukowski, man.
Can't believe you've never heard of him.
He once did a poetry reading with a refrigerator full of beer,
and didn't finish the reading until he'd drank every beer in the cooler.
He's straight ahead. He's your kinda writer man.
A lotta women hate him'cause they think he's a misogynist,
but he just tells it the way he sees it.
A poet's poet."
at the time I was gone on the beats
and had yet to taste
the raw meat
of Bukowski
the party raged on
we talked more
drank more
and I was
hooked
I had to read this guy
find out
get infected
the next week
I began my odyssey
searching out this
beer drinking
mysterious man's man of a poet
at the time
Bukowski wasn't so available in the local
bookstores
I finally came across an old time
bookman on Hollywood Blvd.
Aldine's
he didn't have any Bukowski
but told me where I could
find it
"There's a place on Las Palmas,
Baroque Books. Red Stodolsky. Tell him
I sent ya."
I went
sure as hell
just south of the beaten path of Hollywood Blvd.
where the tourists torture themselves under the
brittle burden of dreams
I found it
this was the place
The University of Red's
where you could get all the Buk you could possibly need or
want
and more
stories about not just Bukowski
but Hollywood
Henry Miller
old New York
Paul Muni and The Yiddish Theatre
Red was the man
and so it began
I bought
and listened
and consumed it all
changing the way I saw and smithed
the word
the girl and I didn't last too much longer
beyond the party
it was what it was
at one point she actually
drew up a contract
wherein I didn't have to do a damned thing
except fuck her all year long
and she would pay the rent
she had included a clause so that once a year I could have a pussy holiday
and fuck whoever I wanted
needless to say
it wasn't my style
the affair did work it's magic on the relationship with my
fiancée tho
as she was swept away in the frenzy
of the madness
that once was my
youth
my dick had done a good job of thinking for me
I lost the women
and then
lost my mind for awhile
many years up the road
Aldine got pistol whipped in a feeble robbery attempt
and soon after sold the bookstore
which is still there
I danced with marriage and fatherhood
Bukowski passed away
Red followed him a few years later and
Baroque Books closed it's doors
forever
Hollywood is now fat with scenesters
hipsters and hype
as most all the humans have been chased away in search of
higher ground
punk has become straight edge fashion
and musical nostalgia
yet Bukowski lives on big time
with the whores
horses
booze and
other assorted ordinary beauty
between the covers of the many volumes I have
on my bookshelves
and around the world in the wake of his
one man revolution of
language and the
word
that was a helluva party
thanks for the tip man
unborn again
• book review with michael baskinski
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 | s.a. griffin
green hills memorial park - march 9. 2000
S.A. Griffin is a crash vampire living in Los Angeles. He is a Cadillac wrangling son of the Lone Star State. His mother was Venus on the halfshell, and his father was a used car salesman. He is rhythm and oxygen.
• Thursday nites / 12:30a.m., Midnite Pacific Slacker Time. The Auto Zone w/S.A. Griffin. Radio free radio on the net
http://www.killradio.org/.
Be late!
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