"...Made crazy and sick by this,
Made violent,
Made inhuman,
By this.
The heart is blackened..."
"Dinosauria, We" Charles Bukowski
Where have I been?
I've been unplugged from the relentless 'Fuck Yeah-America' and 'Obama still blows' since the news about Bin Laden broke on Sunday night.
As homesick as I'm feeling, it's no bad thing.
I wonder what old Hank Bukowski would have made of all the hoo haw.
Possibly he'd have procured some acerbic sleight or laconic bon mot about cowboy ideology, or perhaps he'd have just sacked off the whole sorry shit and gotten wasted at some seedy dive bar.
He'd have not taken to Twitter or Facebook however-most certainly not.
Anyway, I resurrected his incredible visage, that face that looks ravaged by shrapnel, that jawline that could blot out the sun, those eyes that narrow like razor slashes, and painted it in a few spare hours yesterday.
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