War |pronounced: ləv| According to Bukowski

A drunk, a compulsive gambler, and a lecher. A prophet, a poet, and a wordsmith. The former sounds like the beginning of a "walk into a bar" joke, while the latter resembles some kind of a cultured saint. Heralded as one of the great poets around the bend of the twentieth century, Charles Bukowski was deemed both of these men. Somewhere in his middle-aged life (though there is solid evidence it wasn't any sort of sudden epiphany), Bukowski decided he was done with the workingman's life and turned to writing. That's not exactly how it happened, but, for all practical purposes, it was.

In the true spirit of Bukowski, he wouldn't want me analyzing his life anyhow. I won't pretend to know him from reading his books, but there are a few things I can tell you about him. Most certainly, his writing can tell you about him. In fact, I'd say that Love is a Dog from Hell is a pretty good starting point as to what Charles Bukowski is all about. Cut out the B.S. and let Bukowski bring you down or up to his level of existence. I guess, like the eternal struggle between good and evil, Heaven and Hell, it's up to you to decide which direction you're headed with this read. Is there, contained within these pages, a good answer to the question "Is love really a dog from Hell?" I guess it depends on where you stand yourself. Bukowski isn't really going to tell you one way or the other in any of the poems contained in this book.

Bukowski liked to imagine himself a fighter, going into the ring with his audience, and that's often how he approached his own relationships, it seems. I fear, at this point, Bukowski might be rolling in his grave based on my crossing the line. The truth is, I really don't know him at all. I can, however, tell you what I get from his poetry and novels.

The subject matter ranges anywhere from the pitfalls of women to classical music, from horse tracks to booze fests, from utter contempt to pure love... sometimes all in a single line. He's certainly not for everybody, but there's a reason he is one of the most imitated poets of the modern era. He'll take you from the toilet seat to the proverbial mountaintop. It's like digging for buried treasure in a peat bog or musty swamp: sometimes you just want to quit, go home, and take a shower, but you know, if you just stick it out through all the dirt and grime, something really good'll come of it.

I don't know that there's too much waiting around for the buried treasure in the case of Bukowski, but if you look between the coarse language, the lover's quarrels, the binge drinking, the objectification of women, and all the other crap that somehow makes Bukowski who he is as a dislikable reject of a human being, you begin to realize that those are also the things that make him one of the most irresistible and inspirational as a person and writer. Sometimes diving down into the muck is where you get the greatest clarity, and Bukowski's muse seems to have been one dirty needle shy of a dying junky, one last trifecta bet away from a flat broke gambler, and one messed up relationship away from suicide. The awe-inspiring part is this: if I were a betting man, I'd say that's the way he liked it. I think he also preferred cats.

Sincerely Yours, HST

Are you a Fear and Loathing fan? A Hunter S. Thompson fanatic? Do you want to bask in the fortunate compulsiveness and foresight of an eccentric writer who saved all of his letters in the stubborn and cocky knowledge that he would one day become famous and publish them for all to read? Perhaps you're just interested in all those postcard romance books these days. The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman (1955-1967) will do you some good on all counts.

The book, more a collection of one-way letters written by a young and irreverent Hunter Thompson, shows his rise over the course of twelve years, from a pondering (and scared) pseudo-journalist to popular author. As an added bonus, the reader gets insight into the Hunter Thompson many of his contemporaries loved to hate. Even in his own writing in these letters, Thompson seems entirely aware of the dichotomy between two battling personalities. One is a sardonic, opinionated, no-holds barred extremist-jokester with a hankering for stirring up mischief and going against the grain. The other, a hopeless and failing romantic type with a doomed urge to roam and ramble, seems often too willing to take the backseat.

His letters to editors, famous authors, bill collectors, lovers, friends, family, and more all seem to form a written personal biography of a man known today only as a legend. The fact that we only see Thompson's side of things doesn't seem to really matter; it's more fun to imagine responses based on footnotes and reactions from Thompson in follow-ups. Though situations are sometimes blown out of proportion by the mind of the man himself, this collection shows a personal side of Hunter S. Thompson that reveals more about the man behind the bite.

Even then, HST still knows how to put on a show for the audience, interspersing social commentary, philosophical waxing, manic depression, and hilariously sarcastic anecdotes from his own life. Ultimately, these letters are more than a birthday card from your grandmother, they tell about a person, a way of life, and a period in history when a broke, unpublished writer could live on no money and still own a black Jaguar convertible. Or maybe that was only in the case of Hunter S. Thompson, a man who clearly believed he could get away with anything he wanted and laugh at his own personal joke, sick or sane, all along the way.

Ray of Light

Rightfully so, Ray Charles has been deemed by many to be one of the original creators of soul music. As with many artists whose longevity is almost mystical, Ray was the ultimate shapeshifter. Going from jazz to country western to psychedelic circles, Ray was able to stand the test of time in his marketing and business savvy, his ambition, and, ultimately, his creativity in the way he approached music.

Though the Ray Charles sound is unmistakable on hits like "Georgia on my Mind" to "Hit the Road Jack!", his true genius lies in the root of it all: the root that stems from having a tough go at it, the root that shows us what it's like to be at the bottom looking up, and the root that reveals just a tiny pinhole of light shedding through if at all. The blues. The notion that we can't always get what we want when we want it, and that, sometimes, it's even harder to get what we need.

The Genius Sings the Blues seems to encapsulate the true meaning of the word. From lonesome heartbreak to hopeful cry in the night, from fiery romance to forging on ahead, Ray Charles shows off the range of the blues itself. From more commonly-known Ray tunes such as "Hard Times" and "The Right Time" to earlier tunes like "The Midnight Hour", Ray shows how the blues doesn't get much more blue than this. This album seems to say, "If you're on the up and up you better cross your lucky stars, or, even better, say a cautious prayer of thanks at the edge of your bed at night because the blues can be hiding around anybody's corner." Do yourself a favor and, whether you find yourself on the high side of the tide or the low, listen to brother Ray tell you how it is. If you find yourself fortunate for what you've got or find solace in the fact that someone else is also missing what they had, you'll be better off whichever way you cut it.