I think I was 23 or 24 when I came across Notes of a dirty old man by Charles
Bukowski. I knew about his life -that he was a damned writer. He was a fucker –
spending his time with hookers, enjoying alcohol more than he should, going from
one job to the other, never having a clear goal in his life, wandering in meaningless
situations and living his life without limits. He was a bohemian. Walking among his
own life. Just like his work, he was raw, real and authentic. He wasn’t trying to cover
up anything with pretty words.

Everyone at some point wants to live like that. Not giving a fuck about anything, just
observing life. Meeting one person, after the other. Letting time and feelings pass by
without asking yourself “why?”. It’s difficult to do it though, when you’re surrounded
by a society and a system which tells you that you should put your life in order.
“Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be”
Bukowski asked me and then everything started falling apart.

I was getting out of a straight relationship and Bukowski felt as a natural choice. I, on
one hand, was sad and questioning about my life and Bukowski on the other hand,
showing me his lowlife and helping me explore myself and my sexuality. In order to
go into the light, chaos must be released, right?. Live life in a Bukowskian way, so
that you know better what you truly want to achieve in life.

Bukowski, in my eyes, was one of the first queer people I found out. Yes, I do believe
he was queer. Shameless,rebellious and strange. In his books, he’s critizing
American life but at the same time, he’s self-reflecting. His choices may not have
been the best. He was in a maze and didn’t know how to get out. What the reader
acknowledges about his work is that they are reading about his self-discovery. Trying
to find a way out of the lowlife he was experiencing. Sometimes enjoying it,
sometimes trying to sober up.

Bukowski and I were exploring different people. He was talking about the women he
was fucking and I wanted to fuck with men- I had already done my sexual research
with women. Social media, grindr, scruff, tinder started filling up with men and my
head with questions that I hadn’t had yet answers.The floor in my apartment was
filled with bottles of alcohol, cigarettes and dirty clothes.

As things in my head were becoming clearer, the floor had only furniture on. The
applications stayed on the phone, the horniness comes and goes until now and the
“self” accepted my sexuality.

A part of my self-discovery journey started before Bukowski – but definitely he helped
me understand many things in my life. Come closer to myself and accept the ups
and downs, the love and the fucking, the single and the plural.

Have I answered all the questions in my life? The hell no – not even now – in my late
20’s, I don’t know many things. But just as in Bukowski’s life – Life itself helps you