Ritchey the sage summarizes the 11th grade year of every-half punk straight girl you know. I read Bukowski because I thought I was supposed to, and spent epic hours at the band practices of boys I liked, feigning enthusiasm over their Janes Addiction covers, and then riot girl saved me and I never did either again. FEMINISM CAN SAVE YOU FROM BAD POETRY AND COVER BANDS. The End!
"Then there's Charles Bukowski. A recent unfortunate viewing of "Barfly", along with this revisiting of the ol' high school years, had reminded me of all those dreary times of sitting on some boy's floor while he rapturously quoted Bukowski at me, as though somebody with a bleeding liver getting drunk and vomiting on a junkie hooker is somehow meaningful to a 16 year old boarding school kid. Such a strange revelation in wishful thinking. Such a hallmark of the juvenile male, the kind of guy who invites you over and then just plays guitar for hours while you sit there, and then as you're leaving tries awkwardly to grab your boob. And yet I wanted to french all of them, regardless. The boys, not Bukowski, OBVIOUSLY."Posted by jessica hopper at March 23, 2009 02:10 PM | TrackBack