Post Office
Tales of Ordinary Madness
Notes of a Dirty Old Man
Love is a Dog from Hell
You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense
Hot Water Music
What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire
The Most Beautiful Woman in Town & Other Stories
Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame
South of No North
The Last Night of the Earth Poems

Charles Bukowski
when we were kids laying around the lawn on our bellies we often talked about how we'd like to die and we all agreed on the same thing; we'd all like to die fucking (although none of us had done any fucking) and now that we are hardly kids any longer we think more about how not to die and although we're ready most of us would prefer to do it alone under the sheets now that most of us have fucked our lives away.
Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense

Charles Bukowski
There is only one place to write and that is alone at a typewriter. The writer who has to go into the streets is a writer who does not know the streets. . . when you leave your typewriter you leave your machine gun and the rats come pouring through.
Charles Bukowski, Notes of a Dirty Old Man

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oder nicht? oder wie? ach, was solls, bringt doch sowieso alles nix

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45 Minutes Left
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Ban My Book....PLEASE!
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