Shakespeare Never Did This

Shakespeare Never Did This

Charles Bukowski, Michael Montfort

Language: English

Pages: 150

ISBN: 0876859694

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

An account of Charles Bukowski's 1978 European trip. In 1978 Europe was new territory for Bukowski holding the secrets of his own personal ancestry and origins. En route to his birthplace in Andernach, Germany, he is trailed by celebrity-hunters and paparazzi, appears drunk on French television, blows a small fortune at a Dusseldorf racetrack and stands in a Cologne Cathedral musing about life and death.

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began drinking beer. The other nice fellow came back. “There’s no toteboard,” he said. “How do you know the odds of your horse?” “I don’t know,” he said. Linda Lee found a newspaper. “Look,” she said, “here’s something on the horses. I think it tells you where a horse has finished in its races. Look here …” She handed me the paper. Sure enough, there were the horses’ names and after each horse something like this: 9/8/2/6/7/5/9/1/2/5/3 or 6/4/7/2/1/9/2/8/3. There was no indication of class

and that wouldn’t be nice of me because in sporting events I almost always tended to root for the underdog and in spiritual events I was stricken with the same malady because I was not a thinking man, I went by what I felt and my feelings went to the crippled, the tortured, the damned and the lost, not out of sympathy but out of brotherhood because I was one of them, lost, confused, indecent, petty, fearful and cowardly; unjust, and kind only in small flashes and even though I was fucked-over,

have all hell trying to figure out how to get on the plane to L.A. Christ, I’ll be glad to get back. This has been a motherfucking nightmare.” “Oh, I’ve loved it! Can’t we stay longer? Let’s stay two weeks in Paris. I’ll even let you have one of those whores.” “No, I want to get back to Hollywood, I want to get to a race track with a tote board, I want to hear my typewriter shaking the walls. I want to go into a place and order a meal without my little tourist’s language guide book. I want to

target … Barbet had advised us not to drink too much, that American customs was the worst; it was bad enough and we were hardly sober, and I stood crushed with the mob waiting to see the right suitcase slide by. They grunted and pushed like pigs, imbeciles. A fat man with long sections of skin hanging from his jowls leaned his body against mine, resting himself in the crush. I took my right fist within my left, then jettisoned my right elbow into his guts. He gasped, turned grey, farted and

professor’s place in the mountains, drinking scotch and looking at his wife’s legs, vultures circled over the roof and one of them landed in the yard. That’s why I always charge high fees for my readings: I never know if I’m going to get out alive. We met Waltraut, Carl’s wife and Mikey, his son. And also their cat. Mikey was on the fire trip. He lit all our cigarettes. He wanted to light everything. He was engrossed with fire, fire was the way, fire was the god. We drank and talked. I told him

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