Day 223 of the 365 Days of Blogging

The author, Dane F. Baylis

TWICE AS MUCH ISN'T ALWAYS TWICE AS GOOD.

OR

IF YOU INSIST ON TAKING THE LONG WAY AROUND YOU JUST TIRE OUT THE AUDIENCE.

 

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FIRST, A LITTLE HOMAGE.

 

Yesterday would have been the 93rd birthday of a writer few heard of in his prime but who touched many of us forever. Charles Bukowski was an original in every sense of the word. A writer who turned out volumes of prose and poetry in an alcohol-driven, hard-knocks style, but who never seemed as driven with a need for accolades, as he was simply a man with a need to write.

 

I first encountered him in "Cavalier", one of those euphemistically categorized, gentleman's monthlies, from my misspent youth. Without the window dressing, it was a soft core porn magazine. (Yeah, I'm a throwback at times. So what's your point?) Charlie supported himself and his other writing this way. The style was so compelling and raw, I had to look this guy up. This was pre-Internet ,so I ploughed through the card catalogues at the local library trying to find his name and came up with...NOTHING!

 

It took a trip to the well known Brattle Street Books in Boston before I found any of his more (and I'm using the term so very loosely) mainstream works. But I was hooked. He was dark and satiric, hard edged and so vulnerable. He was an unrepentant male when so many men were committing emotional castration. He spoke to the kind of streets I kept finding myself on and informed his writing with much of the reality of how not to go irrevocably mad in a world that was determined to homogenize everyone into an unflavored and unsavory mass media puree.

 

I was fortunate enough to catch him at a reading in San Francisco just as the rest of the world was waking up to him. Eventually though, Hollywood took note and propelled him into that meteor-like notoriety they are so good at fostering. This was a joy - and a shame. Charlie finally got the kind of recompense talent like his deserved at the price of the Andy Warhol 'fifteen minutes of fame' thing.

If you've never partaken of any of Charlie's works, you need to. If only to see what damned good writing looks like away from the phony domains of the bestseller lists and what's trending at your on-line dealer of choice.

 

Charlie, wherever the hell you've been condemned to, here's a round on me!

If you'd like to sample some of Bukowski's words try this link Hank Chinaski's Birthday .

 

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DUMP THE DOUBLE VERBS

Double verbs are the use of equally weighted verbs to express existence, action, or occurrence (in other words action) in a single sentence. Almost any time you choose to do this, the first verb is going to be dead weight and a drag on the action.

 

 

For example:

 

John stood there and watched the train go by.

 

As before, this really doesn't sound all that bad at first blush. There are any number of people who would say this in real life. In fiction writing, the "stood there and" only adds another layer of verbiage to the sentence, muddying perception and adding friction to the words. A better, edited example would be:

 

John watched the train go by.

 

We really don't need to be told he stood there - do we? If he had been running along beside the tracks while watching the passage of a train, then we might want to use the extra words. As it stands, they're unnecessary. Writers will fall into this type of usage when one action implies another or is included in it. The elimination of the more passive verb sharpens the meaning and moves the action along smoother.

 

Just another helpful hint from your Uncle Dane.

 

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UNTITLED 2/19/13

 

by

Dane F. Baylis 

 I’ll be honest

This isn’t about you

Even if you’re reading it

In your darkened room

Enjoying

Just you.

 
The fame thing?

It’s over rated

Strangers standing there

Speaking candied falsities

A second before you

Become the focus.

 
It’s harder to be a counterfeiter

Or cop

Or drunken neurosurgeon

Poets are just

Petty thieves

Flashing down like crows

Stealing shiny baubles.

 
The best ideas

Are just lying there

In the newspaper

On the table

Available as inebriated barflies

Willing to give it up

For a pack of smokes

Or a shot and a beer.

 
When morning comes around

You will lie in bed

Smelling the pillows

Then make up lies

Of passionate desolation

That you will imprison

In bottom drawer dungeons.

 
Later

You will stand at the podium

Clasp your breast and sob

“All of my best moments

Are as degenerate

As Easter

Amongst the Spanish flagellants

Raking off flesh

With spiked chain flails

In my deepest heart

I cry for clarity

And long to lick their wounds.”

 

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Meanwhile...live, love, write.

 

 

Want to follow or subscribe to this blog? There are gadgets for that on the right side of the page. You can leave comments in the form below. I can be reached directly at dbaylis805@gmail.com . You can also find links to some of the sites I visit from time to time on the right. I'm also looking for submissions to the Your Work/Your Love page. Authors retain all rights.

 

 

Tomorrow,

 

Dane F. Baylis

Author.