the end of it all

(image via a year without candy)

i'm reading charles bukowski's post office. it's a real banger. full of folly and something close to swagger, but not quite because the space in between every word is saturated with such sadness and despair. but still, the "fuck it, fuck the world, fuck you" moments run all over the place in this novel, and that definitely makes it a fun read. and there are sections that work like a straight, fast arrow that come right at you, hard and quick, breaking through your skin before you even know what hit you.
for me, this bit just nails it down—
God or somebody keeps creating women and tossing them out on the streets, and this one's ass is too big and that one's tits are too small, and this one is mad and that one is crazy and that one is a religionist and that one reads tea leaves and this one can't control her farts, and that one has this big nose, and that one has boney legs...
But now and then, a woman walks up, full blossom, a woman just bursting out of her dress...a sex creature, a curse, the end of it all.