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TitleNotes of a Dirty Old Man
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Title Page
Notes of A Dirty Old Man
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Page 91

been robbed. and giving a little ashamed smile in the mirror, I fell back upon
the x-love bed and … slept.


“the squirs came to my house.”

“they did?”



“were there many of them?”

“many of them.”

“what happened?”

“they talked to me.”

“they did?”

“yes, they talked to me.”

“what did they say?”

“they asked me if I wanted …”

“what did they say?”

“they asked me if I wanted a fix.”

“what? what did you say?”

“I — ‘they asked me if I wanted a fix.’ ”

“and what did say?”

“I said, ‘no.’ ”

“and what did the squirs say?”

“they said, ‘WELL, ALL RIGHT!’ ”

* * *

“mama saw Bill, mama saw Gene, mama saw Danny.”

“she did?”


* * *

“can I touch your thing?”

Page 92


“I got tits. you got tits.”

“that’s right.”

“look! I can make your bellybutton disappear. does it hurt when I make
your bellybutton disappear?”

“no, that’s just fat.”

“what’s fat?”

“too much of me where I shouldn’t be.”


* * *

“what time is it?”

“it’s 5:25.”

“what time is it now?”

“it’s still 5:25.”

“now what time is it?”

“listen, time doesn’t change very fast. it’s still 5:25.”

“what time is it NOW?”

“I told you — ‘it’s 5:25.’ ”

“now what time is it?”

“5:25 and 20 seconds.”

“I’m gonna throw you my ball.”


* * *

“what are you ”

“I’m ”

“don’t fall! if you fall from there you’re finished!”

“ won’t fall!”


“I won’t! I won’t! look at me ”

“o, jesus!”

Page 182


More Notes of a Dirty Old Man
The Uncollected Columns
Edited by David Calonne

Available in paperback or e-edition

“In these pieces, written for the alternative press from 1967 through the
mid-’80s, is a Bukowski you might not know—the father taking his seven-
year-old daughter to the beach in Santa Monica, where he rescues a homeless
man who’s been beaten up by thugs. Here’s the Bukowski lost in the gender
wars, confused and trying to keep his own desire (piggy at times, yes) alive.
He wasn’t looking for beauty, but he found it now and then.” —

“He’s been gone since 1994, but Charles Bukowski continues to fascinate us.
His tales of sex, drugs, and booze, and more sex, drugs, and booze, ad
infinitum, resonate a lurid energy that grabs our attention and keeps it.” —

“To anyone familiar with Bukowski’s work, they’re more of the good stuff —
essays on pure desire that demonstrate his lust for the physical world. And of
course, they’re shot through with Bukowski’s admirable denial of a higher
meaning to his work — to an earnest interviewer, he writes, ‘When I die they
can take my work and wipe a cat’s ass with it. It will be of no earthly use to
me.’” —

“Proving that misanthropic and humanitarian are two sides of the same
tarnished coin and that stagnation and metamorphosis are equally related, this
collection arcs subtly from the banal side of addiction to the most extreme
forms of love and hate. Bukowski’s prose is still relevant, still shocking, still
transcendent.” —

“In another installment of his essays and ramblings, City Lights press have
surely come up with a winner. These are essentially Bukowski’s articles for
John Bryan’s , for , for the

. His early reputation, as a cult writer around Los Angeles, is partially
built upon these iconoclastic columns where they gave him carte blanche to
write whatever came into his head, and he invariably did just that. Even today
some of his articles come across as quite shocking after all these years.” —

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