"Eu recebo muitas ligações hoje em dia. Elas são todas parecidas.
'Você é o Charles Bukowski, o escritor?'
'Sim', eu digo.
E eles me contam que eles entendem o que eu escrevo, e alguns deles são escritores, ou querem ser escritores, e eles têm trabalhos maçantes e horríveis, e eles não conseguem encarar seus quartos, seus apartamentos, as paredes naquela noite...
Eles querem alguém com quem conversar, e eles não conseguem acreditar que eu não tenho como ajudá-los, que eu não sei o que dizer. Eles não conseguem acreditar que até hoje eu me contorço no meu quarto, me segurando, e digo 'Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, de novo não!'
Eles não conseguem acreditar que as pessoas desalmadas, as ruas, a solidão, as paredes também são minhas.
Eles não conseguem acreditar que as pessoas desalmadas, as ruas, a solidão, as paredes também são minhas.
E quando eu desligo o telefone, eles pensam que eu escondi deles o meu 'segredo'.
Eu não escrevo por sabedoria.
Quando o telefone toca, eu também gostaria de ouvir palavras que amenizassem um pouco tudo isso.
É por isso que ainda deixo meu número no catálogo."
Charles Bukowski
"I get many phonecalls now. They are all alike.
'Are you Charles Bukowski, the writer?'
'Yes', I tell them.
And they tell me that they understand my writing, and some of them are writers, or want to be writers, and they have dull and horrible jobs, and they can't face the room, the apartment, the walls that night...
They want somebody to talk to, and they can't believe that I can't help them, that I don't know the words. They can't believe that often now I double up in my room, grab my gut and say 'Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, not again!'
They can't believe that the loveless people, the streets, the loneliness, the walls are mine too.
And when I hang up the phone they think I have held back my 'secret'.
I don't write out of knowledge.
When the phone rings, I too would like to hear words that ease some of this.
That's why my number's listed."
'Are you Charles Bukowski, the writer?'
'Yes', I tell them.
And they tell me that they understand my writing, and some of them are writers, or want to be writers, and they have dull and horrible jobs, and they can't face the room, the apartment, the walls that night...
They want somebody to talk to, and they can't believe that I can't help them, that I don't know the words. They can't believe that often now I double up in my room, grab my gut and say 'Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, not again!'
They can't believe that the loveless people, the streets, the loneliness, the walls are mine too.
And when I hang up the phone they think I have held back my 'secret'.
I don't write out of knowledge.
When the phone rings, I too would like to hear words that ease some of this.
That's why my number's listed."
Charles Bukowski
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