I've been a fan of the works of Charles Bukowski for a while now. However, it is only recently that I have become somewhat like him. Not in the way that he accepts prostitutes and their offers for sex and mindless conversation (at best), not in the way that he writes of his past exploits of both women, the governement, and anything else that he finds wothy of criticism. But, in the way that he is not afraid to adress the problems. And they bear down on him. The burden of our society was lain on his shoulders, voluntarily or not. If it wasnt so, he wouldnt have written the things he did. I understand him. To a point. Where he sees his own family as the goldfish, just swimming along. Going with the current. His mother, just telling him to smile, even if he doesnt mean it. It's sad but, I understand the reasoning for telling it anyway. The things worth writing aren't sugar coated. They arent pretty. They arent popular and most dont want to hear it. But, that's what makes it worth writing isnt it?