I am definitely NOT a fan of Bukowski (in fact considering him one of the most overhyped authors ever, second only to Raymond Carver).Besides, an ex short-time girlfriend of mine adored him. So when she decided we couldn't work together I removed three things from my life:
Hand-rolled cigarettes, Violent Femmes and Charles Bukowski.
Still, I have to confess how these short stories are a good and naughty fun. (The one with the man becoming a dildo is so damn nasty!).
The book itself popped up pretty suddenly during a rambling nightwalk in Oxford. It was left in a plastic bag in the gloomy St Ebbes Road next to a van selling smelly junk food.
I picked it up. Neonlit by the winkling van, an Italian edition of this book was standing in my right hand.
Then I basically brought the unexpected walk war chest at home, a few footsteps further, downhill.
I thought it may have been a sign. This book was waiting for me. Somehow.
Bukowski's Curse?
Does anybody want to share it?
For those who are interested, let's meet at the smelly van, 1 am.
