Fuck Bukowski and Palhunik. how the hell would a story about a guy's ass being ripped out by pool cleaners be considered literature? i seriously couldn't read that much more of "Haunted" because the stories were something i can write with one hand pumping furiously...on a supersoaker, wtf are you people thinking? i dunno, bukowski has some merit in him, but i don't see what the big deal is about a womanizer. it isn't ever going to be literature, it's only pulp fiction.
masses of hipsters and dissenters of hipsters, crawling around their pop culture and their angst towards pop culture, skewering any real thought to the situation around them. ugh, fuckin hell, not a good mornin at ALL.
shove it up your ass. cept some people who are doing things with their life. not because it'll look good on a resume, but because they found a real passion in what they do.
i need to do something that'll be weary and good for my soul. soon.