Free Beerspit Night and Cursing by Charles Bukowski and Sheri Martinelli Page A

good, am going to close now. duck the Po Li bowl.
    awright,
    Charles
    Charles Bukowski
    ps—forgive this…these greasy fingerprints but I read this while eating, certainly too weak to retype. ate little can of chicken stew to try to help stomach. drank 2 cans beer, wonderful Wagner on radio. will try to thro in couple of pomes and then go to sleep. I will try to build myself up during week. old girlfriend says I almost reached end this time. sleep. sleep, jesus, wonderful: nobody around but Wagner.
    c.b.
    here we go again, psss * —
    geeus sheri
    I have started drinking I am over the edge and so sick butt I got bored typing pomes and had to have sumthing to keep meee going or ging as I like to sae. look, I willnot dye. Rlax. 4 as frie sad: u vealbastard bukski are too meeen to die, ;;; and so prob will live to be oller than my spirit-buddy Pound hoo has lived so long because big fire hard to put out. u good girl sheri, am mailing this…
    I think wot hurt me, I hated most in Miles…wen he intimated I did not care for music. a hoorible untruu blow an made me sick.
    music, paint, I need u. Miles Pain, never.
    Bukow
    Los Angeles Fri, July 23? 22?
     
    Dear Sheri:
    Got yr bread, letter, copy A & P , all in good shape—also all your other corro. Have read much steady the earlier corro and am now working on later and bit of good bread. This is simply very short thing to say I will answer all come Sunday when the shade is around and the breathing.
    Thanx for bread. Spiritwise I don’t think anything better has happened to me for sometime. I am not joking. Very good, fulfills in many ways and angles. This way I get the message good: somebody doesn’t want me to die. I have saved the wrapper and will buy more of same when this is gone. Buk bows a reverent bow smiling all the way inside down…
    Sherman in town, leaving Sunday, I unnerstand. I spell lousy because I was baptized in icewater. Germany, born in Germany, parents splints of steel. Sherman yes. No tank he. Gazzele. Gazelle. Guzzle. Running all over town, panting, people people people. Robert Young. James Boyer May. Curtis Zahn . This and that. Names. Staying with editor of Breakthru …editor Brkthro homosexual, wot or else. Sherman can’tsee things. Awful this running around: does this make poems, this dog-licking? I tried to tell him. He say: No, these people don’t touch me; I remain the same.
    Jory only thinks so because he wants to think so. Everything touches one way, hover or elephants. He threw my name to one of the dogs.
    Christ, where is this guy? somebody said. Nobody’s ever seen him.
    Ah, gladness!
    Now that I have seen Sherman, I will say: essentially nice guy. Talk talk but no can take joke from leftflank; always serious and it is not good to be always serious. When they send me to hell, the first thing I will do is laugh—not with sound but inside like waterfalls and blip blip breaking.
    He read latest poem or 2. Sounded quite a bit like me but that’s all right, he was a little too much in the violets. And he cut all the violets out. He should have left one or two. Desert sand.
    Payne and Fry do not bother me. I do not want to write or tell them anything. We will all leave each other splendidly alone and the Gods will push us on…and off and into.
    Pushed big fat colored man around around around the blocks this morning. Air all dry. Nothing breathing. Sidewalks like rims of things. His car would not start. We both sweat. Ah hell. death, death, death.
    But this is short note, as I said. I will write fully Sunday, if I am alive. Must reread your things again. I have them lined up and in big flipflop box with my scirwritings…Good for all. Hello Po’ Li. The bread is breeding violets in the desert of my mind. Sunday then. I should be in yr mailbox Tuesday, rattling Bukow.
    sweet sounds sweet visions, Princess…
    Charles
    all right, los angeles
sunday I want what
I want what I wanted
July toofour, onenine 6ho…
     
    Yes, She Ri, Princess:
    yeah,