| recent comments mjp said: I'm, uh, working on it. Right now. ~ Fly me to the moon, then blow that shit up! shane said: michael phillips,you are a fuckin madman,post yer next story... ~ Fly me to the moon, then blow that shit up! mjp said: Yes, that is a potential problem for people in 10,001. I often worry about... ~ Doctor, it hurts when I move my arm like this... damian said: indeed. ~ Doctor, it hurts when I move my arm like this... Scott h Florance said: The Christians believe Jesus Christ tis immortal and he lives forever. It is... ~ Doctor, it hurts when I move my arm like this... mjp said: Isn't there a NASCAR or gun or fishing or tabakky-chewing site you can go... ~ I can see for miles, but it's kind of blurry up ahead Andrew Olin Jones said: Hillbilly said you might turn off the smog but I don't want you to do that... ~ I can see for miles, but it's kind of blurry up ahead mjp said: My childhood box? I don't think anyone wants to open that... ~ Fly me to the moon, then blow that shit up!   previous ramblings • I can see for miles, but it's kind of blurry up ahead 2.18.08 • Simple is as simple does 1.31.08 • I feel the earthworms under my feet 1.22.08 • New boots and panties 1.19.08 • I haven't given up, I've just stopped trying 12.25.07 • I don't pray. Kneeling bags my nylons. 12.20.07 • So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good night 9.19.07 • Grab the closet case by the horns 8.11.07 • Blogged down in the forum of my youth 5.23.07 • Hotter than July 5.16.07 • 26 Miles Across the Deep Blue Sea 5.11.07 • A rose by any other name, still doesn't smell so good 4.6.07 • Children of a lesser dog from hell 2.22.07 • Squid lights 1.9.07 • Cats and dogs 12.19.06 • Mission accomplished! 11.22.06 • Various tidbits of marginal interest to anyone 11.9.06 • Buddy, can you spare a town? 10.16.06 • A garbage can is somewhat precise. 10.6.06 • Another cantankerous rant - surprise! 9.25.06 • Hey, where you been? 9.1.06 • Geeeeeeee mail, @smog.net 7.27.06 • Oh good lord, it's a kid's show 7.22.06 • Sleeping dogs 6.28.06 • Dumb and dumber 6.21.06 • HDTV for $150! 5.16.06 • Thank you for calling the White House. My name is Krishna, how may I be providing you excellent service today? 4.28.06 • Decades and bits of centuries 4.24.06 • Secret Society 3.22.06 • Sometimes I don't speak right, but yet I know what I'm talking about 3.20.06 • This is the modern world 3.15.06 • Shakespeare never did this 2.18.06 • Who is Lonnie Tolliver, and why should you care? 1.27.06 • Scuttlebutt and innuendo 1.16.06 • Beware the fury of a patient man 1.6.06 • I feel 100 pounds lighter already... 12.30.05 • Dude! Your wiki is showing... 12.20.05 • Yeti spotted, film at 11! 12.19.05 • "God is a concept by which we measure our pain." 12.9.05 • Doctor, it hurts when I move my arm like this... 12.8.05 • Hey, what's with the torn up clothes, and didn't you have a shag haircut last week? 12.5.05 • Shameless self-promotion or a desperate cry for love? You decide. 11.18.05 • Further proof that drinking will kill you 11.6.05 • Big Apple dreamin' on a wooden floor 11.1.05 • Happy birthday to smog. Now where's my cake? 10.16.05 • I got nothing 10.4.05 • free within my own doom 9.25.05 • A Rambling Essay on Politics and the Bleeding Life Written While Drinking a Six-Pack (Tall) 9.12.05 • (There's Gonna Be A) Showdown 8.31.05 • Well, could I have her spam instead of the baked beans then? 8.28.05 • What has four wheels and flies? 8.21.05 • Don't think twice, it's all right 8.13.05 • My ass is getting cold sitting on this glacier... 8.11.05 • Capital radio 8.11.05 • nobody's fault 7.23.05 • secret santa 7.3.05 • everything we touch turns to rust 6.21.05 • on the edge of seventeen 6.13.05 • life at 300 baud 6.9.05 • 12 steps away from the screen, running 6.5.05 • shake a leg 6.5.05 • san pedro anarchy press, Inc. 5.22.05 • Z is for zealot 5.20.05 • Lenny Bruce was right 5.16.05 • bad meat in the can 5.12.05 • it's in the water 5.12.05 • you tell me 5.10.05 • what matters most is how well you're lit 5.5.05 • just keep pulling the handle, it'll all be over soon 5.3.05 • rust never sleeps 4.24.05 • randomness, chaos and deliverance 4.21.05 • baby was a black sheep, baby was a whore 4.20.05 • Kill my boss? Do I dare live out the American dream? 4.16.05 • roses are red, violets are blue, i thought my hell had ended, but the devil is a crafty bastard with a sick sense of humor and a mean streak a mile wide 4.14.05 • rock the cash bar 4.12.05 • many rivers to cross 4.10.05 • imitation is the sincerest form of unoriginality 4.8.05 • if you are the big tree, we are the small axe! 4.8.05 • give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine 4.4.05 • and who the hell figured QWERTY was a good idea? 4.4.05 • your pope was nothing compared to this guy! 4.3.05 • you've got a TV...i've got a TV...we've all got TV's... 3.29.05 • hitler painted roses 3.26.05 • counselor 3.25.05 • she's still here, damn it! 3.21.05 • patience is a virtue, but resignation is for suckers. 3.13.05 • should have taken mom up on those violin lessons... 3.9.05 • last night a dj saved my life! yeah, maaaaan! 3.9.05 • if i had a hammer... 3.8.05 • caveman re-invents the wheel! film at 11. 3.7.05 • he's mad as hell, and he's not going to take it anymore! 3.4.05 • this is a public service announcement - with guitar! 3.2.05 • battlefield girth 2.28.05 • never give a media giant an even break 2.25.05 • 10 Things I've done that you haven't 2.24.05 • come back, bastard! 2.23.05 • hey, just because he likes Judy Garland records and the Tony awards doesn't necessarily mean anything... 2.23.05 • "I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me." 2.21.05 • I couldn't say it if it wasn't true 2.17.05 • The demons begged Jesus, "If you drive us out, send us into the herd of pigs." 2.11.05 • how to lose 10 pounds in five minutes! 2.6.05 • earth to smog, earth to smog 2.5.05 • my own private chernobyl... 2.2.05 • Estoy solo, pero siento que tu estas conmigo. 1.26.05 • confessions of an obsessive freak of nature 1.5.05 • death wants more death 12.30.04 • every mikkle make a muckle (ask a Jamaican what it means) 12.17.04 • things that don't suck 12.15.04 • what's it all about, mjp? 11.11.04 • old dog, new tricks 9.2.04 • if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all 8.15.04 • Frida Kahlo, Charles Bukowski and Joel-Peter Witkin have left the building 2.13.03 • R.I.P. smog.net 5.19.04 • almost cut my hair...it happened just the other day 4.23.04 • and we're back! 4.22.04 • one cocoa full a basket 2.14.04 • let's get ready to rumble 1.24.04 • brace yourself for a shitstorm 1.6.04 • it's my party, i'll o.d. if i want to 12.6.03 • pimp-a-licious 11.27.03 • on a clear day you can see the 18th century 11.9.03 • men are from mars, women are from vegas 10.14.03 • hit and run walker 10.6.03 • It's all cow, after all 10.2.03 • Johnny Cash is dead, Tower records is bankrupt, gawd save the fucking Queen. 9.13.03 • any history of mental illness? 9.10.03 • boggle: to hesitate as if in fear or doubt. 9.6.03 • pass the aspirin 8.27.03 • this is what i get for leaving the house 7.21.03 • safety in numbers 7.13.03 • god damn 7.11.03 • a million and one stupid things... 6.6.03 • praise Jeebus! 5.23.03 • Kennedy to John Lydon; "Oh, lighten up!" 5.20.03 • they say the French are cowards and assholes... 5.2.03 • I couldn't possibly be *that* fat! 4.19.03 • what's so funny 'bout peace love and understanding? 3.22.03 • this skunk's for you 3.12.03 • Monday's coming like a jail on wheels 2.24.03 • linux, linus, lomax, duck! 2.20.03 • FREE MICHAEL JACKSON! 2.18.03 • the weather in Los Angeles is cloudy 2.13.03 ©1995-2008 mjp | Children of a lesser dog from hell Thursday, February 22nd 2007, 12:38am I wrote this last summer for the Charles Bukowski Gesellschaft Jahrbuch, which is the German Bukowski Society yearbook. It is presented here in lieu of actual entertainment. Thank you. Actually I have something to complain about, but it's just a television show, so you aren't missing anything. I will type it up when I come out of this coma. Okay, sorry to interrupt. On with the show. CHILDREN OF BUKOWSKI I should have typed this weeks ago. I have been putting it off because I didn't want to simply repeat what has been said so many times by so many others in words more eloquent than I will be able to muster. What is there possibly left to say about Bukowski? The most uncommon of common men. A man and an artist who changed the creative direction of so many of his generation, inspired so many of my generation, and who will undoubtedly continue to inspire for generations to come. There is something about Bukowski's work that makes people think to themselves, "I could do that!" So we do. Thousands of us. It isn't until you try to capture the powerful simplicity of his work in your own words that you realize how very difficult it is to do it, let alone do it well. You can feel the shadow of Bukowski looming over the words of so many poets, from university literary journals to Xeroxed zines. What would the literary landscape look like today if we took him out of the equation? While we may not be spending our days following rigid rules, and fitting lines into formalized styles, the world of words would be an undeniably different place. We are, all of us, in one way or another, children of Bukowski. That he changed the face of American poetry is a given. He was a pioneer. We reap the benefits of the pioneers even if we are not inspired by them directly. We still follow those who had the foresight, the tenacity, the balls or the sheer lunacy to walk off into uncharted territory with nothing but a pen, typewriter, paintbrush or a drum. Pioneers do not break new ground so that we can follow. They do it because they have to. It is born in them. It is not something that they do, it is who they are. And so we follow. We follow along in awe, in fear - or perhaps because the clear path makes it easier to pick the low hanging fruit - whatever the reason, we follow. We have existed for decades in ragged tribes around the world. A few of us in each little town, sometimes rubbing elbows or nodding in understanding as we pass. But times have changed, and now our global tribe of bastard children has something that no one could have predicted: easy access to each other. Now, many of us gather online, to celebrate, compare notes, dispel myths and read rare works that only a handful of people have seen in the fifty years since they were published. In Eastern Oregon there is a giant, underground mushroom. The fungus Armillaria ostoyae. It is almost six kilometers wide. The largest living thing on the face of the earth. Like Bukowski's children, most of Armillaria ostoyae is underground. But if you stand in the middle of it, it is alive, spreading as far as you can see in every direction. The internet is not unlike that giant underground mushroom. Look off as far as you can see in any direction and you will find like-minded people. Members of your tribe. For ten years I ran a web site that featured Bukowski's work along with a couple dozen other artists, writers and photographers, and the most visited sections of the site were consistently those with Bukowski's work. So while I knew that the children were out there, for the most part, they were as invisible as the giant mushroom. Then, at the beginning of 2006, something happened. We started talking to each other. Now there are hundreds of us at the Bukowski.net web site every day, engaging in debate, gossip, bullshit and bald-faced hero worship. You really ought to come by and say hello to your extended family. If you told Bukowski that a group of people routinely gathered to discuss and analyze his work and his life, he would have laughed. Or more likely, he would have told you that such people were wasting their time. But beneath it all, I have to believe he would feel vindicated and proud. They say you can always spot a pioneer by the arrows in their back. Bukowski took a lot of arrows. Not for us, but because for him, there was no other alternative. I followed Bukowski's path through his words. Deep into places I would have never ventured on my own, and it absolutely turned my world around. He was mentor, inspiration, clown and priest. The longer he has been gone the more I have learned to appreciate the depth of his talent, relentless work ethic and raw skill. His genius was in expressing the common pain that we all share. Misery we have all experienced. Work that kills us, relationships that drive us mad, broken down automobiles, poverty, desperation, horror and - ultimately - transcendence. It's where we're all headed. And once again, Bukowski has gone on ahead of us. Michael Phillips Proprietor of bukowski.net and smog.net San Pedro, CA on Friday, February 23rd 2007 at 8:19pm, Hillbilly Jones said: Yes, he turned my world around too, late 70s through mid 90s. I’m not sure if it was more for the good or for bad, but he sure turned it around. I wasn’t sure whether I’d gone back in time, or forward, but I knew I’d gone in some other direction other than ‘now’ when Mrs. Jones and I went to City Lights in 2002. Mrs. Jones still doesn’t see what all the fuss is about but it had been a dream of mine for a long time. So we shacked up in a hotel one block off Fisherman’s Wharf and did the entire San Francisco bit that week; Alcatraz, winery tours, the Bushman and other begging bums with cell phones and trolley cars and the museums and the boats and the Blue Angels and Chinese and suits and the rolling hills and the ghost of Richard Brautigan and a cab driver who told us that gay people keep their houses immaculate compared to straight people so he doesn’t mind giving them rides. “My house is a fucking mess!” he said, as if it were important, laughing like Hoss on Bonanza. He'd been dead for more than eight years but I felt his presence on the streets of San Francisco. It was there and it was thick. I had a few scotch-and-waters in the little bar next door to City Lights; and with a digital voice recorder stuffed in my pocket I recorded about thirty minutes of our conversation with the bartender who told stories of who came into the bar. He died two months and seven days after my father died. Buk’s poems about his father grabbed and shook me more than the poems about the drug addicts and whores with down-and-out lives. The one where he’s walking through his dead father’s house. Fuck. I gave up on Buk. After enjoying him for twenty years it was like, what’s the point anymore? He was a good writer, poet, colorful character, end of story. But he was no one to be idolized. The only Buk reading I do these days is on the toilet and I don’t waste much time in the bathroom. That happens the older you get. Time grows short and you don’t want to be found dead in your bathroom slumped over the crapper before you had time to wipe yourself. I’ve read countless Buk poems to Mrs. Jones in our bed during rainstorms up here in the Ozark Mountains. Some she liked but overall she just doesn’t get him. I do get him but don’t want to wallow around in it anymore. on Saturday, February 24th 2007 at 11:21am, mjp said: I'm not sure how you felt Bukowski's presence in San Francisco, considering that he only visited it briefly a couple of times, but hey, if you felt something you felt it. He wasn't really part of that City Lights crowd though. They published two prose collections (which were just collections of his LA Free Press articles, not new work) and a Montfort photo book about his trips to Europe. They never published any Bukowski poetry or novels. But you probably aren't even reading this, being as you don't wallow anymore. You know, except for a 450 word post here and there. on Sunday, February 25th 2007 at 11:18pm, Hillbilly Jones said: I know where Buk spent his time, dude. Your over eager desire to think otherwise is interesting though….like a sore thumb in one way. After Love Is A Dog From Hell in 1976—when I stumbled upon Buk—I went straight to Notes Of A Dirty Old Man and then Erections….Ordinary Madness, which are City Lights. I read both of those at a snails pace, and then read them again and again. It was the craziest shit I’d ever read in my life outside of Camus and Kosinski and the refreshing thing about Buk was that he was not only a great writer but that he wasn’t a sick fuck like Ginsberg and Burroughs. I bet you look at a glass of water that’s half full or half empty and remark at how dirty that was must be. And it wasn’t 450 words. It was 436 words, dude, 1,842 characters or 2,289 when you count the spaces. And this one is 166 words, including the wallowing. on Tuesday, February 27th 2007 at 9:47pm, carol es said: when he died, i got super drunk and watched barfly (which i know by heart) and shouted out every line of the movie out loud while crying. i was living with my band at the the time and they all thought i was totally crazy. i moved out shortly after that and lived alone again, the way it should be. crazy and all. on Thursday, March 1st 2007 at 12:20am, Hillbilly Jones said: Yeah, I did someting similar. The interview video of Buk and Linda on youtube is a bit sad but extremely fascinating. Are there more videos--preferably interviews, not readings--for sale out there someplace? on Thursday, March 1st 2007 at 9:08am, Melissa Sue said: see? yet another reason to admire carol. on Thursday, March 1st 2007 at 8:12pm, Hillbilly Jones said: Yeah, as far as I can tell Carol has it going on. She doesn't chime in often and when she does she slips in like a good waitress at a swanky place in Fayetteville when it’s snowing silver dollars and takes away your plate without interrupting the conversation at the table of eight. In fact, she’s so good I’d leave her a fiver even if it wasn’t my turn to tip. on Monday, March 5th 2007 at 12:22pm, mjp said: Are there more videos--preferably interviews, not readings--for sale out there someplace? That clip you saw on youtube is from The Bukowski Tapes, four hours of interviews done by Barbet Schroder, the director of Barfly. For years it was an obscure VHS release that was impossible to find. Now it is out on DVD. on Wednesday, March 7th 2007 at 9:55am, Hillbilly Jones said: Thanks. I'm watching these DVD on eBay: The Charles Bukowski Tapes Bukowski: Born Into This Barfly Factotum I already have Bukowski At Bellevue and one record album of a drunken, burping reading. Are there any others? I watched Barfly only once and that was when it came out. The only movies I can remember that came close to being a mirror of the book AND that were as good as the book are: Dances With Wolves The World According To Garp Ordinary People Donnie Brasco And what I remember is that my expectations had been too high because I felt let down. But then again I don't read every book of every movie I see, so what the fuck do I know? I'm jest an Arkansaw hillbilly way back in these hills where deer stop by for supper, growin' your own is as easy as fallin' off an old rotten log, and where trout fishing is just a hop, skip and a jump away. Thanks for the tip. on Monday, March 26th 2007 at 10:07am, Hillbilly Jones said: CHILDREN OF BUKOWSKI made me pull out my Bukowski books and stack a few for bathroom reading material. I found a bookmark folded up in DANGLING IN THE TOURNEFORTIA. It was piece of paper with an old Republican/Democrat joke printed on it that rings true. The problem over the last few years is that George Bush has alienated any potential Republicans—those who choose reality over pie in the sky--with his arrogant, I’m Da King behavior, not to mention his incompetent dicisions. As a liar, he’s consistent and fools few people. So, OK, he sucks as Prez, but that doesn’t change economic realities nor does it change the fact that Democrats, even very thoughtful ones, make decisions with their hearts/emotions because the Democrat politicians are adept at pulling on heart strings. Putting compassion above everything thing else creates a dispassionate, uncaring society. And that takes us just that much closer to the “S” word: S-s-s-s-s-socialism. Ok, here is the joke. Those who don’t GET it never will. A woman in a hot air balloon realized she was lost. She lowered her altitude and spotted a man in a boat below. She shouted to him, "Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don't know where I am." The man consulted his portable GPS and replied, "You're in a hot air balloon, approximately 30 feet above a ground elevation of 2346 feet above sea level. You are at 31 degrees, 14.97 minutes north latitude and 100 degrees, 49.09 minutes west longitude. She rolled her eyes and said, "You must be a Republican." "I am," replied the man. "How did you know?" "Well," answered the balloonist, "everything you told me is technically correct, but I have no idea what to do with your information, and I'm still lost. Frankly, you've not been much help to me." The man smiled and responded, "You must be a Democrat." "I am," replied the balloonist. "How did you know?" "Well," said the man, "you don't know where you are or where you're going. You've risen to where you are, due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise that you have no idea how to keep, and you expect me to solve your problem. You're in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but, somehow, now it's my fault. on Tuesday, March 27th 2007 at 6:51am, damian said: i can here Orwell spinning. on Wednesday, March 28th 2007 at 2:15am, Hillbilly Jones said: Why would Orwell be spinning? Spinning what? Barney Frank on his wee wee? on Wednesday, March 28th 2007 at 3:18pm, damian said: yeah, totally, spinning Barney Frank on his wee wee. on Friday, March 30th 2007 at 11:44pm, Hillbilly Jones said: Oh, OK, spinning Barney Frank on his wee wee. Now I understand. on Monday, July 16th 2007 at 9:38pm, Methodius said: Not much on my mind right now. Today was a complete loss. So it goes. I've just been sitting around waiting for something to happen. I've basically been doing nothing , but I guess it doesn't bother me. ;) on Friday, September 7th 2007 at 2:37pm, Andrew Olin Jones said: I like Carol's idea about getting drunk and watching Barfly but I'd make a double feature and end with Being There and I'd order pizza. Hillbilly and Miss J turned me on to that movie. It's a dilly. Extra pepperoni and I don't give a fuck if they do charge extra! Hillbilly's concert hopping with friends and he left me here to live in their house until they come back again if they every do, lol. I'm real jealous though cause I know they are gonna eat at Famous Dave's Barbacue. It's my favorite and better than Memphis barbacue. Rendevouz in Memphis has dry ribs which are the best. Elvis even ate there I mean he had them delivered to his house called Graceland. Love those carpeted walls, eh? he he on Tuesday, September 11th 2007 at 5:25pm, damian said: the Jones clan - an answer nobody can understand to a question no-one asked. on Tuesday, September 18th 2007 at 1:53pm, mjp said: It is a clan of one, a right wing wine gnat who fancies himself a progressive, creative type because he sometimes types under a different name and claims not to dream of licking the precious, salty drops from W's ball sack. But where he's from that probably is the most creative thing anyone has ever conceived, so you can't really blame him for his delusion. That and the scientifically proven fact that FOX News rots your brain. on Tuesday, September 18th 2007 at 5:52pm, damian said: hey mjp, by "wine gnat" do you mean "wingnut"? i of course knew it was the work of one dude, but i likes my delusions too, so i do. on Thursday, September 20th 2007 at 11:03pm, Hillbilly Jones said: Mikey J., your hallucintions are far from reality but you sure do seem to love to talk about ball licking, presumedly because you seem to know so little about economics and a whole lot about licking balls. Can you back up ANY of your views with rational thought and facts? Mrs. Jones and I were, in fact, concert hopping. Earth Wind and Fire was awesome. That little Verdine White is amazing on bass. We had drinks and a long talk with John Prine and two of his relatives a couple of weeks ago after his show in Kentucky. You would be disappointed with Prine's political views. He's rational..and funny as hell. Hey Mikey, why don't you offer your views of the Jena Six. Be serious and cut out the ball licking (if you can). on Monday, April 7th 2008 at 9:15pm, hoochmonkey9 said: excellent piece. smog.blog powered by buddy V2.0 |