In and Out and Over

I’ve had Hot Water Music on my bookshelves for quite a few years. I decided that this would be the first book I would read over winter break, which is now currently dwindling quite quickly. Not only that, but it took me forever to read it between plans with people, going to Burlington, for New Years, and finally getting a chance to finish it in Maine (which maybe I’ll post photos from). Written by Charles Bukowski, one of my favorite writers, it is a series of short stories that all in all are pretty fucking bleak. Most of them are about various people who get drunk all the time, fuck women, go to the track, get drunk again, write, be assholes, and so on. Many are funny, gruelingly stark illustrations of lowlife has-beens. Not surprisingly, countless seem remind you of the man who wrote the book, maybe a little too much, but that’s what you get from Buk. Regardless, it is a fun read, albeit a little repetitive on occasion. One notable quote, which especially resonated with me, was from the story “In and Out and Over”:

“We drove north up Alvarado. Then to Glendale Boulevard. Everything was good. What I hated was that someday everything would dwindle to zero, the loves, the poems, the gladiolas. Finally we’d be stuffed with dirt like a cheap taco.”

It got me thinking about loneliness, and what we all really look for in our lives. A month or so ago I found a video featuring a poet named Tanya Davis entitled “How To Be Alone." The video had me thinking about being alone, as well as loneliness. Note, there is a monumental difference between the two, being that aloneness is a state of being, whereas loneliness is a state of mind. Loneliness is a one of a kind emptiness, where longing is overwhelming; it’s an insatiable restlessness for contact.

But being alone is something different, though. I often prefer being alone than with company. That isn’t to say that I don’t like to be around my friends, family, and strangers, or that I’m not social. On the contrary, I’m typically social but I am quite fond of my solitude. It allows me to catch my thoughts, think about what I have to get done, write in my moleskin to keep me on track, read, practice ukulele, listen to my favorite records, et cetera. It brings me back to equilibrium. Sometimes I just don't want to talk to people. I'm sure you can relate.

What are your thoughts? Leave a comment or something!