Tales of Ordinary Madness

baby, why do people try to hit us with their cars?”
“well, mama, it’s because they are unhappy and unhappy people like to hurt things.”
“aren’t there any happy people?”
“there are many people who pretend that they are happy.”
“why?”
“because they are ashamed and frightened and don’t have the guts to admit it.”

You know when I’m not jacking-off or stoned I’m reading books, all kinds of books.

they talked about everything and she told him everything she knew and she knew very much, instinctively, and Duke didn’t know very much but he told her what he could, and it worked. they were happy together.

I had this suicide complex and these heavy depressive fits and I couldn’t stand crowds of people and, especially, I couldn’t bear standing in a long line waiting for anything.

I had this suicide complex and these heavy depressive fits and I couldn’t stand crowds of people and, especially, I couldn’t bear standing in a long line waiting for anything.

the poetry is dull, very dull, so dull that the dullness is taken for hidden meaning – the meaning is hidden, all right, so well hidden that there isn’t any meaning. but if YOU can’t find it, you lack soul, sensitivity and so forth, so you BETTER FIND IT OR YOU DON’T BELONG. and if you don’t find it, KEEP QUIET.

Only a fathead has bags full of advice and answers to every question.

Listen, Pulon,” I said, “you never eat. I never see you eat food. How do you stay alive.”

Bukowski cried when Judy Garland sang at the N.Y. Philharmonic, Bukowski cried when Shirley Temple sang “I Got Animal Crackers in my Soup”

Bukowski likes Judy Garland. Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”