Americans rarely come to Montpellier. In fact, it's so rare that every time a yank turns up in Fitzpatrick's Irish Pub, Lurch and/or the Dominant Gangster Bartender bring them over to me for an introduction.
It's like I'm the designated American.
In general, I like to meet new people, so I make the effort, but for the past three or four years I always end up regretting it.
Because after we make the introductions the dudes and the babes ask what I do for a living. I then try to explain. Afterwards there is always, one and only one question:
"Do you like Charles Bukowski?"
You know what? Fuck you. That's like asking a tall black man if he plays basketball.
Yes, I do happen to like Bukowski.
And, I get that Bukowkski hung out in derilict bars like I do. And I know that he hung out in derilict bars in the south of france for a while.
But, guess what, motherfucker? So did Fitzgerald and Hemingway!
Beyond that I'm much closer in writing style and perspective to Hunter S. Thompson.
Bukowski was a wonderful writer of the downside of life - but he always holds out a bit of hope for a better tomorrow.
Hunter understood that this was a dark ride.
And that's much more me.
I embrace the darkness so I can kiss the light.