There are times I wish I had the guts to write as raw and dirty and twisted and lusty as Charles Bukowski. Even his book titles leave one thinking about their own emotional state of mind.
To have the courage—or perhaps the lack of sense—to write whatever comes to mind in the lowest of form would be a pleasure at times, I do think. The harsh reality is though, that I lack the courage to step off that building’s ledge.
While the freefall excites me, the sudden stop is frightening.