Many yrs ago,I received this tale. An old woman met a writer.
She put him up in her house, paid for his food and bills so he could write.He wrote,got drunk and snorted #Cocaine like a vacuum cleaner.Every night, after making #Love to her, the guy watched #Porn on her computer and jerked
Then she read some of his pages and discovered that what he wrote was nothing but shit
He lived to get drunk,high on drugs and jerk himself to death. Then many more things happened that are not relevant right now
When I was a kid,I wrote something that others found worthwhile and won a prize.
I traveled to #Madrid,visited El Museo Del Prado and was granted an audience by HM King of Spain Juan Carlos
I'd have preferred a scholarship so as not to have problems paying for Spanish University -where they don't teach anything- but in Spain, people who do something worthwhile were gifted a photo and an autographed letter from Generalísimo Franco and then King continued with this as in many other things.Cheaper
A guy walked down a street in #Sevilla staggering on a Saturday afternoon.He started drinking in the morning or maybe he had been drinking since Friday night
and did not go home to sleep
I asked him if he is okay and he told me "yeah" and then "leave me alone".Five meters further on he fell down and cuts off traffic
I run towards him and make sure he hasn't broken his head on the street.
No blood, great. I lift him up so the cars can pass.
U can get drunk and high on #Cocaine and think u are writing #DirtyRealism or some #Punk poetry style of yours but you're not Bukowski.
U may think u're writing "prosa cipotuda" but you actually are refering that one night u felt like shitting in a shitty bar and you did it out of the WC in a puddle of piss. Someone cleaned up your shit before closing and it wasn't a good time.
You cannot refer García Lorca and write shit. One thing or another.