Hot Water Music

Hot Water Music

Charles Bukowski

Language: English

Pages: 224

ISBN: 0876855966

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Hot Water Music is a collection of short stories by Charles Bukowski, published in 1983. The collection deals largely with: drinking, women, gambling, and writing. It is an important collection that establishes Bukowski's minimalist style and his thematic oeuvre.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Yes, I’m writing my new novel.” “Lots of sex?” “Some of the time.” “Are you a good lover?” “Most men like to think they are. I’m probably good but not great.” “Do you eat pussy?” “Yes.” “Good.” “Your room still available?” “Yes, the master bedroom. Do you really go down on a woman?” “Hell yes. But everybody does now. This is 1982 and I am 62 years old. You can get a man 30 years younger and he can do the same thing. Probably better.” “You’d be surprised.” I walked over to the refrigerator and

drink, then another drink, then he remembered no more… In the morning Myra awakened first, climbed out of bed, put on coffee, and brought Louie a coffee royal. “Come on,” she told him, “I want you to meet my friend Albert. Albert is a very special person.” Louie drank his coffee royal, then they made love. It was good. Louie had a very large knot over his left eye. He got out of bed and dressed. “O.K.,” he said, “let’s go.” They took the elevator down, walked to Alvarado Street and caught

his. I took my father by the neck and the woman by the neck and pulled them apart. My father fell back into the casket and the woman was led out, trembling. “That was your father’s girlfriend,” said Bert. “Not a bad looker,” I said. When I walked down the steps after the service the woman was waiting. She ran up to me. “You look just like him! You are him!” “No,” I said, “he’s dead, and I’m younger and nicer.” She put her arms around me and kissed me. I pushed my tongue between her lips.

over to his place after I visit my daughter on Wednesday. I’ll be there about 5:00. Why don’t you come by about 5:30 and I’ll introduce you?” I gave her the address and instructions. Don Dorn was a painter. He was 20 years younger than I was and lived in a small house on the beach. I turned over and went back to sleep. I always slept until noon. It was the secret of my successful existence. Don and I had two or three beers before Lucy arrived. She appeared excited and had brought along a

kill ya, punk!” I put the wood to the back of his neck as hard as I could then. He was stretched out next to his unconscious friend. I looked at the girl, Caroline. It was the one with the fake fur. I decided I didn’t want it after all. I ran over to the barkeep’s car, switched the lights off, killed the engine, pulled the keys and threw them onto the roof of the building. Then I ran back to the bodies and got Jimmy’s wallet. I ran out of the lot, walked south a few feet, and said, “Shit!” I

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