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

surprised, even now, when I hear something strong and new and unheard before
and it happens quite often. As I write this I am listening to something on
the radio that I have never heard before. I feast on each note like a man
starving for a new rush of blood and meaning and it's there. I am totally
astonished by the mass of great music, centuries and centuries of it. It
must be that many great souls once lived. I can't explain it but it is my
great luck in life to have this, to sense this, to feed upon and celebrate
it. I never write anything without the radio on to classical music, it has
always been a part of my work, to hear this music as I write. Perhaps, some
day, somebody will explain to me why so much of the energy of the Miracle is
contained in classical music? I doubt that this will ever be told to me. I
will only be left to wonder. Why, why, why aren't there more books with this
power? What's wrong with the writers? Why are there so few good one?
Rock music does not do it for me. I went to rock concert, mainly for
the sake of my wife, Linda. Sure, I'm a good guy, huh? Huh? Anyhow, the
tickets were free, courtesy of the rock musician who reads my books. We were
to be in a special section with the big shots. A director, former actor,
made a trip to pick us up in his sport wagon. Another actor was with him.
These are talented people, in their way, and not bad human beings. We drove
to the director's place, there was his lady friend, we saw their baby and
then off we all went in a limo. Drinks, talk. The concert was to be at
Dodger Stadium. We arrived late. The rock group was on, blasting, enormous
sound. 25,000 people. There was a vibrancy there but it was short-lived. It
was fairly simplistic. I suppose the lyrics were all right if you could
understand them. They were probably speaking of Causes, Decencies, Love
found and lost, etc. People need that -- anti-establisment, anti-parent,
anti- something. But a successful millionaire groupe like that, no matter
what they said, THEY WERE NOW ESTABLISHMENT.
Then, after a while, the leader said, "This concert is dedicated to
Linda and Charles Bukuwski!" 25,000 people cheered as if they knew who we
were. It is to laugh.
The big shot movie starts milled about. I had met them before. I
worriend about that. I worried about directors and actors coming to our
place. I disliked Hollywood, the movies seldom ever worked for me. What was
I doing with these people? Was I being sucked in? 72 years of fighting the
good fight, then to be sucked away?
The concert was almost over and we followed the director to the VIP
bar. We were among the select. Wow!
There were tables tables in there, a bar. And the famous. I made for
the bark. Drinks were free. There was a huge black bartender. I ordered my
drink and told him, "After I drink this one, we'll go out back and duke it
out."
The bartender smiled.
"Bukowski!"
"You know me?"
"I used to read your "Notes of a Dirty Old Man" in the L.A. Free Press
and Open City."
"Well, I'll be god-damned..."
We shook hands. The fight was off.
Linda and I talked to various people, about what I don't know. I kept