Ham on Rye

by Charles Bukowski

And then along came Hemingway. What a thrill! He knew how to lay down a line. It was a joy. Words weren’t dull, words were things that could make your mind hum. If you read them and let yourself feel the magic, you could live without pain, with hope, no matter what happened to you. But back at home … ‘LIGHTS OUT!’

Turgenev was a very serious fellow but he could make me laugh because a truth first encountered can be very funny. When someone else’s truth is the same as your truth, and he seems to be saying it just for you, that’s great.

The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little bit more off you, until there was nothing left. At the age of 25 most people were finished. A whole god-damned nation of assholes driving automobiles, eating, having babies, doing everything in the worst way possible, like voting for the presidential candidate who reminded them most of themselves.

News travels fast in places where nothing much ever happens.

‘Are you a cynic?’ ‘I’m unhappy. If I was a cynic it would probably make me feel better.’

‘One of the failures of Democracy is that the common vote guarantees a common leader who then leads us to a common apathetic predictability!’