Charles Bukowski

Cows In Art Class

Good weather is like good women- it doesn't always happen and when it does it doesn't always last. Man is more stable: if he's bad there's more chance he'll stay that way, or if he's good he might hang on, but a woman is changed by children, age, diet, conversation, sex, the moon, the absence or presence of sun or good times. A woman must be nursed into subsistence by love where a man can become stronger by being hated. I am drinking tonight in Spangler's Bar and I remember the cows I once painted in Art class and they looked good, they looked better than anything in here. I am drinking in Spangler's Bar wondering which to love and which to hate, but the rules are gone: I love and hate only myself - they stand outside me like an orange dropped from the table and rolling away; It's what I've got to decide: kill myself or love myself? Which is the treason? Where's the information coming from? Books... like broken glass: I wouldn't wipe my ass with 'em yet, it's getting darker, see? (we drink here and speak to each other and seem knowing). Buy the cow with the biggest tits buy the cow with the biggest rump. The bartender slides me a beer, it runs down the bar like an Olympic sprinter and the pair of pliers that is my hand stops it, lifts it, golden piss of dull temptation, I drink and stand there the weather bad for cows but my brush is ready to stroke up the green grass straw eye sadness takes me all over and I drink the beer straight down order a shot fast to give me the guts and the love to go on.

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