This Bukowski guy I’ve been listening to, he talks a lot about writing because clearly he loves it.
Something cool in this book women, he said
It’s not about writing well, it’s about knowing when to not write.
Otherwise you’d just be typing.
Maaaaannnnn…
I don’t know anything.
Not much at all.
I’m not envious, it’s more like I’m in awe. Some of it is so good. Like ,,, really really good.
Natural and honest.
Driven by a swing and seemingly without effort.
I want to speak like that.
I want to play like that.
Like falling off a log.
I think it’s a better use of my ears than true crime.
Or dick jokes.
Phases, we go through phases.
dawn 