Nowhere to Run
#More Bukowski quotes
YOU'RE AFRAID OF HER, YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO, HOW TO ACT, MAN OF THE WORLD, YOU ARE AFRAID, YOU DON'T KNOW THE WORDS…
I hate seconds but when firsts haven't been for a time and you are supposed to be a great Artist and an understander of Life, seconds just HAVE to do.
if you don't have much soul left and you know it, you still got soul.
listen, do you ever walk around not quite knowing what you are doing?
most of the time, baby.
#Today
So maybe the world is ending. The world as we know it, at least.
But I hung out for a little while in Wicker Park today, at a cafe on Milwaukee Avenue, where you can almost smell the upcoming gentrification. Melrose Avenue before it became ultra-trendy. Old Pasadena before they kicked out the bums.
The typical artsy-fartsy crowd was there—on the surface, the scene doesn’t look like it’s changed, even though I’ve been out of the loop for years now. There was something surreal about it though, something not-quite-real, but maybe that’s most of our Orwellian existence these days, and when did I become so cynical, when did I refuse to accept things at the surface, when did I start assuming that the surface was a bald-faced lie? When did I start assuming that the core was the antithesis of the surface, and anything that looked good on the outside just had to be rotten on the inside?
But enough philosophy.
I was I were an artist. The words refuse to come.
What the hell am I doing with my life?