page 77
... If I had been born a woman I would have certainly been a prostitute. Since I had been born a man, I craved women constantly, the lower the better. A yet women -- good women -- frightened me because they eventually wanted your soul, and what was left of mine, I wanted to keep. Basically I craved prostitutes, base women, because they were deadly and hard and made no personal demands. Nothing was lost when they left. Yet at the same time I yearned for a gentle, good woman, despite the overwhelming price. Either way I was lost. A strong man would give up both. I wasn't strong. So I continued to struggle with women, the idea of a woman.
page 188
"What do you think of women?" she asked.
"I'm not a thinker. Every woman is different. Basically they seem to be a combination of the best and the worst -- both magic and terrible. I'm glad they exist, however."
Source:
Bukowski, Charles. Women. (Ecco, 2002).
And nothing was interesting, nothing. The people were restrictive and careful, all alike. And I've got to live with these fuckers for the rest of my life, I thought. God, they all had ******** and sexual organs and their mouths and their armpits. They **** and they chattered and they were dull as horse dung. The girls looked good from a distance, the sun shining through their dresses, their hair. But get up close and listen to their minds running out of their mouths, you felt like digging in under a hill and hiding out with a tommy-gun. Frankly, I was horrified by life, at what a man had to do simply in order to eat, sleep, and keep himself clothed. So I stayed in bed and drank.
Source:
Ham on Rye: A Novel
