"Чарльз Буковски. Дневник последних лет жизни (engl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

house.
They were in there a very long time. Then out they came. Old Charley
was strapped onto the stretcher. As they got ready to load him into the
amulance we stepped forward. "Hold on, Charley," I said. "We'll be waiting
for you to come back," Linda said.
"Who are you?" Charley asked.
"We're your neighbors," Linda answered.
Then he was loaded in and gone. A red car followed with 2 relatives in
it.
My neighbor walked over from across the street. We shook hands. We'd
been a couple of drunks together. We told him about Charley. And we were all
miffed that the relatives left alone so much. But there wasn't much we could
do.
"You oughta see my waterfall," said my neighbor.
"All right," I said, "let's see it."
We walked over there, through his wife, past his kind and out the back
door and into the backyard past his pool and sure enough there in the back
was a HUGE waterfall. It went all the way up a cliff in the back and some of
the water seemed to be coming out of a tree trunk. It was massive. And built
of huge and beautiful stones of different color. The water roared down
flooded by lights. It was had to believe. There was a worker back there
still working on the waterfall. There was more to be done on it.
I shook hands with the worker.
"He's read all your books," my neighbor said.
"No shit," I said.
The worker smiled at me.
The we walked back into the house. My neighbor asked me, "How about a
glass of wine?"
I told him, "No, thanks." Then explained the sore throat and the pain
at the top of my head.
Linda and I walked back across the street and back to our place.
And, basically, that was about the day and the night.

11/22/91 12:26 AM
Well, my 71st year has been a hell of a productive year. I have
probably written more words this year than in any year of my life. And
though a writer is a poor judge of his own work, I still tend to believe
that the writing is about as good as ever -- I mean, as good as I have done
in my peak times. This computer that I started using on Jan. 18 has had much
to do with it. It's simply easier to get the word down, it transfers more
quickly from the brain (or wherever this comes from) to the fingers and from
the fingers to the screen where it is immediately visible -- crisp and
clear. It's not a matter of speed per se, it's a matter of flow, a river of
words and if the words are good then let them run with ease. No more
carbons, no more retyping. I used to neeed one night to do the work and then
the next night to correct the errors and sloppines of the night before.
Misspellings, screw-ups in tenses, etc. can now all be corrected on the
orginal copy without a complete retype or write-ins or cross-outs. Nobody
likes to read haphazard copy, not even the writer. I know all this must
sound prissy and over-careful but it isn't, all it does is allow whatever