I don’t know what it is, however… Whenever I read Bukowski… I want to write.

Maybe it’s one alcoholic speaking to another, I don’t know. A safe place for a sober, dare I say recovered alcoholic; hearing tales from a dead man?

No, it’s the courage that I lacked when I was down the rabbit hole that he possessed. To be so honest in and about his addictions, maybe that’s the identification that happens?