"Чарльз Буковски. Дневник последних лет жизни (engl)" - читать интересную книгу автораsurprised, 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 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 |
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