Bukowski: The Worst Hangover

I had a somewhat Bukowskian experience of my own recently, when I arrived at work just after a woman had been beaten, raped, and thrown from a fifth-story window at the Regent Hotel, just across the alley from my office. I didn’t hear the thud, but I did arrive in time to see the many various vehicles with the flashing, multi-coloured lights, and to listen to her cousin wailing in grief for three-quarters of an hour before Victims’ Services calmed her down.

And so, with that intro, welcome to our Bukowskian interlude:

via CelluloidBlonde

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