Из Чарльза Буковски - Американская литература - 2
Американская литература - 2
субъективное лучше. я знаю одного профессора,
мы пили пиво вместе и он
сказал: "я не понимаю как ты можешь так делать."
он ошибается. всё субъективно.
история субъективна. поднятие утром
штор. распитие пива.
абстрактное субъективно. объективное субъективно. жук-
водомер, и горчичник.
нет ничего субъективней чем спускаться по лестнице
в одиночку
ни о чём не думая. мне часто нравится
ни о чём не думать часами.
этот профессор, он учил слишком долго
пока я был ночным сторожем и
униформистом в цирке. мне нечего было ему
сказать но я сказал: "пейте пиво" -
сказал я ему - " и расскажите мне о вашей
жене."
он мог только пить своё пиво поэтому
я рассказал ему о своей жене.
7-28-80
From "Sifting Through the Madness for the Word, the Line, the Way"
04.04.19
American Literature - 2
personal is best. I know this professor,
we were drinking beer together and he
said:"I don't see how you can do it."
he's wrong, it's all personal.
history is personal. pulling a shade up
in the morning is. drinking beer is. the waterbug
is, and the sinapism.
nothing is more personal than walking down
a stairway alone
thinking about nothing. I often like to
think about nothing for hours.
this professor, he'd taught too long
while I'd been a night watchman and a
circus hand. there was nothing I could
tell him but I did: "drink your beer" -
I told him - "and tell me about your
wife."
he could only drink his beer so
I tell him about my wife.
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GENIUS
he
usually wore a vest and
a coat no matter
how hot it was
and his clothes were
always dirty
except for a colorful
clean scarf
no matter
how many times
I moved
he always managed
to find me
for the couch
and the booze
and he’d drink
and he’d tell me
of his genius
speak out
a few new poems
from memory
pass out
and sometimes
during the night
puke on the rug
afterwards snoring
keeping me awake
most of the
night
he’d jump up
at 6 a.m.
and take walks
around the
block
always coming back
with wild stories
about hookers
or
dead bodies in
the gutter
in a large voice
while smoking cigarettes
that dangled
he’d begin again
about his
genius
“if I were a
black fag Jew
I’d make it!”
well
he was Jewish
so he could
only make it
one-third of
the way
at other poet’s
poetry readings
he’d leap up on
stage
and read his
own things
he hustled so
hard
that people
hid
from him
“this pan-handling
has got to be
wearing,” I told
him, “why don’t you
get a job and
write
on the side?”
“NO!” he screamed,
“I GOTTA BE RECOGNIZED!”
he was good
he was a very good
writer
but
like the rest of
us
he wasn’t as good
as he thought
he was
I’m sorry
but I was always
glad
when he left.
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Денис Созинов 04.04.2019 22:42 Заявить о нарушении
Юрий Иванов 11 05.04.2019 09:13 Заявить о нарушении