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I should probably be ashamed of myself but my hissy fit comment was an intentional provocation. I was hoping to incite a reaction and am pleased that I did. I wish there had been a few more. I usually don't go around poking angry bears with sharp sticks but I couldn't resist just this once. I...

Here's some more fuel for the fire. I wasn't going to post this but I find all the hissy fits entertaining. This is on being recognized which appears in Ransom Weirdness #1 and also in a slightly different form in War All The Time. Just a few word changes and a deleted line. Enough to work...

According to the database this only exists as a manuscript but it appears in Random Weirdness #1. It's published out of Chicago and includes a few poems by Harry Calhoun (publisher of Pig in a Pamphlet) and a couple by Ann Menebroker. I don't know why this was never collected. I kind of like it.

I did a quick search and it doesn't look like this has been posted yet. Apologies if it's a repeat. Such an elegant piece!

This is my final column for the Undie Press. They're going to concentrate on traditional long-form publishing vs. monthly bits and bites. Also, I've pretty much exhausted the subject of egomaniacally prattling on about my books. Having a monthly column taught me that a deadline can suck all the...

...I wanted to live in Manhattan. Over the years (decades, actually) I met many, many people like her. They are Manhattan snobs who would never consider living in Brooklyn or Queens because they feel it's beneath them and not indicative of the "New York Experience." Consequently, the live in...

Red was always rude to me. I used to call and try to buy stuff but he never sold me a thing. London does this really cool thing whereby they mount a circular blue plaque on famous residences. I passed Captain Bligh's apartment on a walkabout.

What an idiot. At least it's in a nice neighborhood.

This month's column is about Bukowski inscriptions, all of which you've seen here, but you may want to click over and read, as I gleefully throw a dead, sainted author under the bus.

Boy, I agree with that! There are just TOO DAMN MANY lots in this auction. Especially the manuscripts. I like Ross and wish him well, but I think the amount of material here is overwhelming. It'll be interesting to watch.

Has anyone considered the possibility that this entire archive could wind up in Nick Lawrence's warehouse? Someone had to say it.

Those tough early chaps are all here. Flower Fist, Longshot Poems, Run with the Hunted, Poems and Drawings. Even Genius of the Crowd. It took me years and years and years and YEARS to find these and here they all are under one roof. One stop shopping. For a price!

They've started to upload the lots for the Runfola auction. Click here and type "Bukowski" into the Author search field.

Thanks for your kind words about the article. I love a compliment. I understand why you fled NYC. It's pretty vile. Honestly, I don't know what's wrong with me. I am nestled in Monmouth County, very close to Red Bank. Are you familiar? In the summer, we spend a lot of time in Sea Bright. When...

Also from Wild Dog #13, but this one is collected in THE DAYS RUN AWAY. I posted it because there are a couple of differences between the two.

Also uncollected from Wild Dog #13.

Also uncollected from Wild Dog #13.

This is uncollected. It's from Wild Dog #13. January 12, 1965.

Thanks very much for your kind words. If it weren't for Harper Lee, I'd be living in the ironbound neighborhoods of Cleveland. Not as poetically romantic as it sounds. Trust me. My column in the April issue covers my recent trip to the Antiquarian Booksellers Association of America bookfair at...

This month's column is on the little mag that could: McSweeney's Is it book art or literature? From humble beginnings to publishing mini-empire. I don't read it any longer but at its inception I was obsessed with collecting signatures from contributors.

Amen to that, Bill! I was just a midwife.

I was using "some" as a metaphor.

This is from Sun #1 (1961). It's reprinted in Slouching Toward Nirvana but with some differences.

Thanks, Bill. I mentioned the theater as just a small aside, almost hoping nobody would notice. BTW, still no word. I sent an email to the assistant on Friday asking what's up. The silence is deafening.

For the February issue of the Undie Press, I dove back into my Bukowski shelf. This time, it ain't about the words.