South of No North: Stories of the Buried Life

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I mean, no matter how well it’s going sexually or love-wise or both, the day arrives when it’s over. When he and his stories intersect, the results can be revealing, funny and surprisingly theatrical.... This Bukowski is no simple hero of the disenfranchised, and South of No North is most involving when it unfurls this rare psyche through such complex moments, when Bukowski keys into his pathetic characters with frightened identification and amused sympathy. Mr. Payne finds humor and pathos in the role.... Even his narration, with its languorous hold on words even as his sentences round to a close, suggests the writer's intoxication with the life of his mind. It is a rich performance.

Sundays were our day, our quiet, easy day. We went to the Burbank. There was always a bad movie first. A very old movie, and you looked and waited. You were thinking of the girls. The three or four guys in the orchestra pit, they played loud, maybe they didn’t play too good but they played loud, and those strippers finally came out and grabbed the curtain, the edge of the curtain, and they grabbed that curtain like it was a man and shook their bodies and went bop bop bop against that curtain. Then they swung out and started to strip. If you had enough money there was even a bag of popcorn; if you didn’t to hell with it. I believe that without love, sex is nothing. Things can only be meaningful when some feeling exists between the participants. alter ego του συγγραφέα, ο γνωστός και αγαπημένος Χανκ Τσινάσκι. Πόσο γαμάτος είναι αυτός ο τύπος; Τώρα, με τι έχουν να κάνουν τα διηγήματα; Με τι άλλο εκτός από μεθύσια και κρασοκατανύξεις, από άστατο σεξ και ατελείωτο κυνήγι του ποδόγυρου, από χαμαλοδουλειές και τον καθημερινό αγώνα να τα βγάλει κανείς πέρα;While we ate our hotdog and drank our huge mug of rootbeer we played the pinball machine, a penny a game. We got to know that pinball machine very well. When you made a perfect score you got a free game. We had to make perfect scores, we didn’t have that kind of money. Edna was walking down the street with her bag of groceries when she passed the automobile. There was a sign in the side window: Le copertine di Guanda dei libri di Bukowski son brutte. E’ per questo che ho messo l’edizione TEA sebbene abbia letto la Guanda. Endicott, Endicott sitting there saying, "Well, Hemingway's gone, dos Passes is gone, Patchen is gone.

Edna walked off, smiling a bit. She also had a feeling of repulsion. By the time she reached her apartment she had forgotten about him. It was some hours later, sitting in the bathtub, that she thought about him again and this time she thought how truly lonely he must be to do such a thing: As are the novels, Bukowski's stories are raw and gritty. They are filled with life in Los Angeles flophouses and cheap rooming houses. The stories feature chronic alcoholism, crude sexuality, sexual frustration, horseplaying, violence, and joblessness. They are a chronicle of the life of the down-and-outer. She stopped. There was a large piece of cardboard in the window with some material pasted on it. Most of it was typewritten. Edna couldn’t read it from where she stood on the sidewalk. She could only see the large letters: Biography South of No North, from the densely populated districts of northern Athens that were home to most of the country's post-punk scene, were one of the first significant bands to form within the nascent dark wave and goth scene in Greece. Taking their name from the title of Charles Bukowski's 1973 book, they began playing local clubs shortly after their formation, first appearing on stage as South of No North in March 1984.South of No North was followed nearly a decade later by Bukowski's last collection solely devoted to short stories, Hot Water Music, but by then his power as a short story writer was waning. [ citation needed] He later admitted that "the short story had deserted me", though he was able to occasionally generate a gem like No Wing High (collected in the 1990 poetry and short story collection Septuagenarian Stew) in his later years. I fought a guy who later ended up very high in the United States Navy. I fought him one day from 8:30 in the morning until after sundown. Nobody stopped us although we were in plain sight of his front lawn, under two huge pepper trees with the sparrows shitting on us all day. Edna didn’t say anything. Neither did Joe. They just sat looking at each other and sipping their drinks.