Charles Bukowski A Veces Estoy Tan Solo Que Tiene Sentido Review

Bukowski wrote in Factotum : “If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start.” That includes loneliness. If you are going to be lonely, be completely lonely. Go all the way down. When you hit the bottom, the floor holds. Bukowski spent decades moving through flophouses and cramped apartments. In his world, the room is a character. It is a womb and a tomb. It is where he wrote, drank, and listened to classical music.

He is describing a of a hard life, not a prescription for a good one. charles bukowski a veces estoy tan solo que tiene sentido

The beauty of the quote is its . Is it tragic or triumphant? The answer is both. It is the sigh of a man who has fought the world and lost, only to realize that losing means he no longer has to play the game. The Spanish Connection: Why the Language Matters Why does this quote hit harder in Spanish? Bukowski wrote in English, but "A veces estoy tan solo que tiene sentido" has a rhythm that English lacks. Bukowski wrote in Factotum : “If you’re going

In a world that screams at you to connect, network, engage, and "reach out," Bukowski gives you permission to close the door, pour a glass (of water or wine), and whisper to the empty room: "Ah. There you are. It’s quiet now. Finally, this makes sense." Go all the way down

That is the moment the quote describes. The moment the pain plateaus, then shifts.

But did Bukowski actually write this? The answer is complicated, and exploring that detective work is the first step toward understanding why this particular line haunts us. Purists will argue that Bukowski wrote in English. His voice was the raw, grimy vernacular of post-WWII Los Angeles. He wrote about booze, horses, cheap hotels, and "the asshole of the world." The phrase "A veces estoy tan solo que tiene sentido" appears nowhere in his original English manuscripts.

The quote "A veces estoy tan solo que tiene sentido" speaks to the geography of the room. When you are that deeply alone, the walls cease to be a prison and become a filter. They keep out the "posers," the 9-to-5 zombies, the "normal" people who Bukowski despised.