There is a Bukowski Quote For Everything

For better or worse, I find there's a Bukowski quote for every occasion.

I know. I know. He's a misogynistic disaster but the man has a singular ability to express the depths of the human condition with clarity and pith.

Lately, I've been chasing four quotes around.

“We don't even ask happiness, just a little less pain.” — Charles Bukowski

The past couple of years, we've literally been scared to breathe. We're so worn and frayed at the edges that we're not even petitioning the universe for happiness anymore. We're just asking...pleading for a little less pain.

My RA has been vicious lately and I recently found out that the damage to my right thumb is irreparable and will likely degrade as I get older.

I'm having a hard time opening Will's sippy cups. I don't use our ceramic diner mugs anymore because I'm scared to spill hot coffee on myself.

It's getting harder to write.

It's getting harder to pick Will up.

My eyes water, I grit my teeth and I gasp and I do it anyway because what the fuck else am I going to do?

Birds gotta fly, fish gotta swim, writers gotta write and no force on this earth will prevent me from holding my kid.

This brings me to the second quote:

“The courage it took to get out of bed each morning to face the same things over and over was enormous" - Charles Bukowski.

I didn't think of these acts as particularly courageous. It's just what you do - you do the things that need to be done.

But then, I shifted my perspective a little. If it wasn't me going through this, if it was someone I knew and loved - I would think they were a goddamn superhero.

You know it's going to hurt and you do it anyway because it needs to be done.

We really should treat ourselves with the same compassion and reverence we treat our friends.

And this brings me to the third quote:

“Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside — remembering all the times you've felt that way.” - Charles Bukowski.

I wake up some mornings and I can't make a fist. It feels like someone is clutching onto my ankle and squeezing. I can't move and I swear I'm not gonna make it. I can't fucking do this.

But then I remember - you said that yesterday too and you made it.

And I remember the final quote:

"We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.” - Charles Bukowski.

Here's to better days and less pain ahead because before I got back on the Methotrexate? It's been a real kick in the teeth.

May you drink beer, may you kill whatever war you're fighting and in turn, take a couple of solid licks at the war machine that's trying to immolate us all.

May you find peace. May people be kinder than you ever thought possible. May you share a good meal, may you get enough sleep, and may you experience true and profound joy.

It's the least of what you deserve.