Status Updates From Kadınlar

"I'm 32," said Arlene.
"I'm 23," said Tammie.
"Add your ages together," I said, "and you've got me."

I've got to get back to the typewriter, I thought. Art takes discipline. Any asshole can chase a skirt. I drank, thinking about it.

KATHERINE STAYED 4 or 5 more days. We had reached the time the of the month when it was risky for Katherine to fuck. I couldn't stand rubbers. Katherine got some contraceptive foam.

Section 39...

The fucking was very good that night, but it was the night I lost her. There was nothing I could do about it. I rolled off and wiped myself on the sheet as she went into the bathroom. Overhead a police helicopter circled over Hollywood.

...had that one, ten across."
She turned away. "His face is yellow, Hank. Did you see his eyes? He's sick."
"He's sick on the dream. We're all sick on the dream, that's why we're out here."
"Hank, let's go."
"All right."

I took the even money shot and he won by 6 and paid THE $4.00. Not much, but I had him ten win. The man turned around and looked at Katherine. "I had it," he told her. "$100 to win."
Katherine didn't answer. She was beginning to understand. Winners didn't shoot off their mouths. They were afraid of getting murdered in the parking lot.
After the fourth race, a $22.80 winner, he turned again and told Katherine, "I...

Section 37...

Section 36...

I sat and waited. Then she came out and I was sitting in a chair, waiting. She bent over and kissed me, laughing, "You are a dirty old man!" Then she walked into the bedroom. I was in love again, I was in trouble....

I watched the slow movement of her head and body in the moonlight. She wasn't as good at it as some, but it was the very fact of her doing it that was amazing. Just as I was about to come I reached down and buried my hand in that mass of beautiful hair, pulling at it in the moonlight as I came in Katherine's mouth.

I figured that anybody who would read their novel aloud to others had to be suspect. If that wasn't the old kiss of death, nothing was.

Women is episodic and so he structured it like The Decameron. Both books are divided into short, independent sections. Boccaccio had 103 sections, Bukowski naturally had one more.

Section 26 is just incredible.

When I came I felt it was in the face of everything decent, white sperm dripping down over the heads and souls of my dead parents.

I was old and I was ugly. Maybe that's why it felt so good to stick it into young girls. I was King Kong and they were lithe and tender. Was I trying to screw my way past death? By being with young girls did I hope I wouldn't grow old, feel old? I just didn't want to age badly, simply quit, be dead before death itself arrived.