Boredalt wrote:
@Rikki Bukowski would scar these kids for life. I enjoy Buk in small doses and some of his work is brilliantly insightful, humorous and sad, but I find he wears me down. The words on his tombstone pretty much sum up the overall message of his work: "Don't try."
Ham on Rye (1982) wrote:
He hit me again. But the tears weren't coming. My eyes were strangely dry. I thought about killing him. That there must be a way to kill him. In a couple of years I could beat him to death. But I wanted him now. He wasn't much of anything. I must have been adopted. He hit me again. The pain was still there but the fear of it was gone. The strop landed again. The room no longer blurred. I could see everything clearly. My father seemed to sense the difference in me and he began to lash me harder, again and again, but the more he beat me the less I felt. It was almost as if he was the one who was helpless. Something had occurred, something had changed. My father stopped, puffing, and I heard him hanging up the strop. He walked to the door. I turned.
"Hey," I said.
My father turned and looked at me.
"Give me a couple more," I told him, "if it makes you feel any better."
PSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH