New Bukowski Leg Sleeve Tattoo: “Let It Enfold You”

Recently received an email from a fellow Bukophile and have been communicating with him for a month or so about his amazing full leg tattoo which is based on Bukowski’s 10 page poem “Let It Enfold You” which first appeared in his posthumous collection Betting On The Muse (2006).

If you can spare the time, have a quick read of the poem here on PoemHunter.com: https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/let-it-enfold-you/

The Buk fan who lives in Lexington Kentucky was keen to contact Bold Monkey about his emerging Bukowski tattoo created by the artist Sara Huser of Castle of Color Tattoos. He attached some photos and the following message, in part:

 ”It's no where near complete, but I wanted to share it and let you know I appreciate your posts! Bookmarked and check in regularly. 

Let It Enfold You was the first poem I ever read and it absolutely changed my life... I gave my tattoo artist my leg and the poem, she has done everything else without substantive input... As you can see, it's unreal…I want to try and let people know how talented she is! 

This is just one section, my shin, the entire leg is covered, but none of it is entirely finished yet. Every word and line was taken from the poem exclusively. 

Passing it along because you might appreciate it!”

I certainly have! As you scroll down the page and view the changing perspectives on the latest work on his leg, you’ll have to admit that Sara’s Buk tatt is amongst the most complex and sophisticated you've seen.

He explained to me the concept  behind the poem, “I just gave Sara the poem and my leg, she did all of the rest, with complete autonomy, all I asked was that she put the poem into my skin, and she absolutely killed it."

The poem let it enfold you is written from the perspective of Bukowski as an old man and he reflects on his fucked-up life. His central message is that despite the ugliness and hatred and stupidity he has encountered over the years, he has learnt how to release himself from his hardened shell and to embrace the many simple pleasures and happy discoveries- however ephemeral.

Half way through the poem he describes his hard fought vision:

something in me

relaxed, smoothed

out.

I no longer had to

prove that I was a

man.

I didn’t have to prove

anything.

I began to see things

coffee cups lined up

behind a counter in a 

café.

or a dog walking along

a sidewalk.

or the way the mouse

on my dresser top

stopped there,

really stopped there

with its body,

its ears,

its nose,

it was fixed,

a bit of life

caught within itself

and its eyes looked

at me

and they were

beautiful.

then- it was

gone.

Most of the above lines and close to 200 lines in total from Let It Enfold You have been inked into the fan's skin.

He is clear in explaining his tattoo is a work in progress, "Like I said, it's really incomplete - not a single place is finished being tattooed yet, but I will be sure to update whenever it is.

I've got hundreds of it being tattooed, all the stages throughout, I'm planning on doing a little piece on it once it's completely finished."

Asked today about how many hours Sara has devoted to the project, He says, without a quiver of regret or of the discomfort & pain to follow, "We haven't kept detailed track of the hours, but I'd guess 50 or so, probably just as many left to go."

Stay tuned for further updates on the tattoo.

For more information check out the following links: 

Sara: https://www.instagram.com/slinginsara/

The shop- Castle of Color Tattoos: https://www.instagram.com/castleofcolortattoo

From Serbia With Love: Another Bukowski Tattoo Narrative

I recently received an email from an ardent Bukowski fan in Serbia who was keen to show me his Bukowski tattoo. When trawling the net last year for my post The 15 Best Bukowski Tattoos Online, I briefly considered including it: https://georgedanderson.blogspot.com.au/2015/03/the-15-best-bukowski-tattoos-on-line.html

The three legged tat is a photo realistic representation of Mark Hanauer’s circa 1981 photo of Bukowski. The original photo can be found in Abel Debritto’s article in Jacket Magazine Big Time: Charles Bukowski in Evergreen Review: http://jacketmagazine.com/40/debritto-bukowski.shtml

I asked the Sebian bloke, Predrag Almazan, why the fascination with Bukowski.

His reply, “Well...you know how some things and moments in life help define who you are? I always loved to read, and one day, when I was 15, at my grandmother’s apartment I found a book with an interesting cover picture : It was Ham on Rye by Bukowski.

“I asked what that book was about and my mother said that I was too young for that but my grandmother said that I wasn’t and told me to take it. I read it in three hours, and I was hooked. Then, I discovered his poetry, simply written but beautiful and strong.

“I was writing poetry myself up to that moment for about 2 years, but I followed forms. Then, I discovered that you don't need forms, or rhymes, you have free verse. So, about that time, 1999, puberty, first sexual experiences, alcohol and drug abuse, NATO bombardment of my country (Serbia), I was changing in what I am now in part thanks to him, or you might say, my fascination with him. I have his every novel, and poetry book published here, even his comic - The Day it Snowed in LA, which only came out once in 500 copies in my country.

“I still write poetry, though I found my own flow, but I still use free verse, and I still love reading poetry mostly thanks to him. So, as years passed, and I got to know one of the best tattoo artists in Serbia Ivan Sabo "La madre muerta" https://www.facebook.com/lamadremuerta I had to do Buk’s portrait, so I found a black and white picture of him, that not only represented him well but also was a great picture by itself, and got it tattooed.”

The tattoo five years on:
  

Bukowski is either hoisted on a pedestal or maligned for opening up poetry to the masses and encouraging the widespread writing of poetry. There is certainly no curbing of Predrag’s enthusiasm for Buk. His leg is a testament to his love of Bukowski's writing.

Predrag Almazan is presently preparing a book of poetry called Crn Pan (Black Pan). Here are few of his Bukowski inspired poems from Serbia:

ANTIMUZA

Noć je

i Antimuza krklja

dok se smeje

dok dovlači klitoris

do kreveta

u tri do pola devet

zinula je na sva usta

ali su bar ptice umukle

obućari

verovatno

drkaju na njene cipele

U radiju se čuje

lomljenje kostiju

panterovo oko

izgleda kao mesec

ako je ludilo sreća

onda sam srećan

a ako nije

pronaći ću

nešto drugo

neku

srećniju sreću

koja će me veštije ubiti

ANTIMUSE

It is the night

and Antimuse is gurgling

as she is laughing 

while she’s dragging her clitoris

to bed 

at three to half past eight

she gaped with all of her mouths 

but at least the birds have gone quiet

shoemakers are

probably 

jerking off on her shoes

radio is playing 

breaking of the bones

panther's eye

looks like the Moon

if madness is happiness

than I’m happy

if it’s not

I’ll find something else

some happier kind of happiness

that will kill me more cunningly.

 LAŽNO DNO BEZ DANA

Spojeni pljuvačkom ili mislima o njoj

s komšija voajerima ili bez njih

s njenom svetom Vodicom i mojim ejakulacijama

s njenim bolestima

i mojim bolestima;

spojeni pseći

dok ona grči lice u nežnu grimasu

dok nam bog mater psuje

a ona očekuje izbacivanje

mesečne larve-

šake pune krvavog

čijoj sahrani neću prisustvovati jer

kaže: Nisam;

dok je bez dna ovaj bez-dan u koji smo sa dna pali

dok sutrašnjica abortira i baca svoj fetus među nas

dok sveti mučenici svojim životom proslavljaju mazohizam

mogu reći da je

a i ne moram

to ništa neće promeniti

dok spavamo nožu ispod jastuka

dok ona leži pored mene

a besno sunce nam ponovo otima mir

ne bi li ga zamenilo nečim

nazovimo-

Božanskim...

FALSE BOTTOM OF ABYSS

Joined together with saliva or with the thoughts about it
with voyeur neighbors or without them
with her holy Water and my ejaculations
with her illnesses
and my illnesses;

joined like dogs
while she’s convulsing her face in a tender grimace
while god curses our mothers
and she’s expecting an ejection

of her monthly maggot-
a handful of a bloody child
whose funeral I won't be attending ‘cause
she says: I’m not;

while bottomless this abyss is into which from the bottom we have fallen
while tomorrow aborts and throws its fetus between us
while holy martyrs praise the masochism with their lives

I can say it’s…
but I don’t have to

it won’t change a thing

while we're sleeping under the knife’s pillow
while she’s laying by my side,
and the furious sun is taking our peace once again
in order to replace it with something
let's call it-

Divine…

TAČKE

TAČKA 1

Sunce se još tu i tamo snalazi.

Oblaci idu negde drugde.

Adam je donirao rebro.

Jedan i jedan su još uvek.

Ko može i dalje se oduševljava ljudima.

Da me ne mrzi i ja bih bio normalan.

Neko svoje noge naslanja na zid pa tek onda seda.

Mrtvi drugari su popili svoje.

Sanjaju me košmari jednog po jednog.

Nisam još dovoljno sjeban da pišem bolju poeziju,

ali ima vremena.

TAČKA 2

Možda je pišanje po njenoj mokraći izvestan vid ljudavi.

Uključim svetlo - svetlo ti se uključi.

Možda ima nečega u vezama među ljudima.

Antimuza čeka dete,

a ja joj dadoh:

srce na dlanu,

govno u ruci

i bukete cveća

koje je u ćošku sažvakala.

Izvukao sam kućicu i sunce.

Bio je vedar dan.

Srećne su priče bez kraja.

Hajde da ga onda ova ipak ima.

POINTS

POINT 1

Sun is coping now and then.
Clouds are going elsewhere.
Adam donated the rib.
One and one are still.
The one who knows how can still be amazed by people.
If it wasn’t so hard I too would be normal.
Some abuts their legs on the chair before they sit.
Dead friends drank their share.
I turn, I spin, the nightmares dream of me,
one by one.
I’m not yet fucked up enough to write better poetry,
but there’s time.

POINT 2

Maybe peeing on her piss is some sort of love.
I switch on the light – your light switches on.
Maybe there is something about relationships between people.
AntiMuse is expecting a child.
and I gave her:
heart on a palm,

shit in a hand
and bouquets of flowers

which she chewed up

in the corner.
I snorted a small house

and the sun.
It was a beautiful day.
Happy are the stories that have no end.

So let this one have it anyway.

A Charles Bukowski Tattoo Narrative

I received an unusual request from an Argentinean reader a few days ago. He had read my review in Bold Monkey of Bukowski’s Portions From a Wine-Stained Notebook and he sought help about a phrase in the story ‘Distractions in the Literary Life’ which first appeared in High Times (June 1984). He wanted to use a phrase from the story and tattoo it onto his body.

The reader had a Spanish translation of a fragment in the story which read “no te mueras en mi infinidad.” He wanted to know what the original phrase was in English. Google initially translated the fragment to me as “DO NOT DIE IN MY INFINITE.” I quickly found Buk’s words at the bottom of page 199 in Portions and it read as follows: “DON’T DIE ON MY INFINITY.”

The context of the quote is hilarious and makes the tat a particularly unique and impressive one. Most of the Buk tattoos you view online are achingly sentimental in the 'Blue Bird' tradition. ‘Distractions in the Literary Life’ is a clever eight-page meta-fictional story, a product of Bukowski’s outrageous imagination. One very hot summer night his alter ego Chinaski types out a “dirty story for one of the mags” on a broken table and it begins to tilt. After buying a deal of coke and getting some close attention from his girlfriend Sandra, he returns to his story.

He begins typing a story about a guy with an odd fascination with a very large mammal. The writing is bizarre but highly memorable. He is disturbed momentarily.

“Hey, Jack Off! Sandra hollers from the other room, “you writin’ some good shit?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know how to end it.”

“Have them drop the fucking bomb.”

“Hey, great! I’ll do it! Nobody, nobody has written a story like this!”

Just then the table leg gives way and I only have time to grab the bottle as the typer crashes to the floor. Never happened to Mailer or Tolstoy. I take a slug from the bottle, then go over to the old typer. Don’t die on me, m.f., in any way at all…It has landed upright. I sit down on my ass, reach out, and tap at the keys. I type: DON’T DIE ON MY INFINITY. It types me right back, like that. It’s tough, like me. I take a drink of joyful celebration for the both of us. Then I get bright: I decide to type on the m.f. floor, I will finish typing the m.f. floor. Celine would dig that.”

                                                                             *

The short story then morphs off in typical twisted Buk tropes. It’s not clear what Bukowski meant by the phrase “DON’T DIE ON MY INFINITY.” In his many interviews he often spoke about wanting to create "immortal" poems and stories. My guess is that in this story as his typewriter crashes to the floor he is hoping his typer will continue to pour out his creative juices & will not fail him. The typewriter, in fact, seems to take on a life on its own- somehow channelling Bukowski’s thoughts as “it types me right back.”

In the final analysis, the story is highly successful. Certainly no one has written a story quite like 'Distractions of a Literary Life.’ Certainly it takes a brave soul to personalise a Bukowski phrase in a permanent tattoo engraving on one's body part.