Charles Bukowski

For some reason every time I've read a book from Bukowski I had the feeling of being in a dark bar of LA having a beer with an old fellow speaking with the voice of Tom Waits *. The smoke of the cigarettes and vapors of the spirits melting with the smell of sweat of the few people left. The barman already closed the bar and listens, once more, to the story that Charles is telling tonight. He has heard it several times, in any of its variations; horses, drunken men, women... No one in the bar will dare to look at Charles' face and ask if what is telling happened or it is just his imagination, because whether it happened or not it not important. The fact that Charles is telling the story again is what really counts.

* I have never heard an interview with Bukowski, but my brain makes this association of Bukowski and Waits.