I can never drive my car over a bridge without thinking of suicide. I can never look at a lake or an ocean without thinking of suicide.
Charles BukowskiRead
soon I'll finish this 5th of Puerto Rican rum. in the morning I'll vomit and shower, drive back in, have a sandwich by 1 p.m., be back in my room by 2, stretched on the bed, waiting for the phone to ring, not answering, my holiday is an evasion, mt reasoning is not.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote reflects on the cyclical nature of escapism and the harsh reality that follows indulgence.
In this quote, Charles Bukowski conveys the notion that his moments of escapism through alcohol are followed by the inevitable return to reality. It highlights the contrast between temporary pleasures and the weight of daily life, suggesting that while one seeks to evade their circumstances, the truth and responsibilities wait just around the corner. The imagery of returning to an empty room emphasizes the loneliness that often accompanies such behaviors.
Themes
EscapismRealityIndulgenceLonelinessHoliday
In practice
Example use cases
During a speech about the pitfalls of excessive indulgence, one might use this quote to illustrate the aftermath of seeking escapism.
More from Charles Bukowski
All quotes →when I am feeling low all i have to do is watch my cats and my courage returns
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I'm going to open another vottle. not a vottle, but a bottle. you open it and I'll drink it. and you try to write as much as I did without falling off of your chair.
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To experience real agony is something hard to write about, impossible to understand while it grips you; you're frightened out of your wits, can’t sit still, move, or even go decently insane.
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I lapsed into my pathetic cut-off period. Often with humans, both good and bad, my senses simply shut off, they get tired, I give up. I am polite. I nod. I pretend to understand because I don’t want anybody to be hurt. That is the one weakness that has lead me into the most trouble. Trying to be kind to others I often get my soul shredded into a kind of spiritual pasta. No matter. My brain shuts off. I listen. I respond. And they are too dumb to know that I am not there.
Charles BukowskiRead
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