bukowski

Don’t Try

/ Stuart Danker / 60 Comments

On Bukowski’s grave are the words ‘Don’t try’, an epitaph that leaves much room for interpretation. This coming from a man who wrote for decades without compensation, who dared to suffer for his craft, and who was also a loser by society’s standards.

Yet I can’t help feeling a connection with the Buk. He was a loner, I’m a loner. He loved drinking, I love drinking. He quit writing for 10 years, and I’m… well…

I’ve written all I need to write, and now there’s a lack of life to sustain the output. I don’t feel what I write anymore, and that’s a problem. Because how do I coax feelings out of you when I don’t feel anything myself?

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NON FICTION: My First Tinder Date

/ Stuart Danker / 6 Comments

Photo credit: Thomas Leuthard

Photo credit: Thomas Leuthard

I remember the days before I had a blog. Days where my friends were free to humiliate themselves in my presence without asking if I was going to write about them. Things have changed; today they treat me like a reporter waiting for his big scoop. They think I’m secretly documenting their every tic for a grand exposé, soon to be read by millions. Well joke’s on them, because first of all, nobody reads my blog.

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