I feel as though reading different authors has a tendency of snapping me back to the point in time where I read them religiously.
I used to eat, drink, and sleep Bukowski while I was just starting to post my work online, but for the longest time, he was really my only influence. I picked a collection of his up in a Barnes and Noble once and went crazy over it, and I’m pretty sure that bled pretty heavily into a lot of my earlier work.
But then I think I started drawing too heavily on ‘ol Hank and felt like I’d dried myself up somehow. Writer’s block kept hitting every time I’d sit down on the keyboard, which is never a good feeling for someone who really wants to get their best work out there for people to see. Granted, I think it was also the fact that I was keeping a three-poems-a-day schedule back then, and didn’t know that was a fast track to burning myself out completely.
Anyway, this is all just sort of a long winded way of saying that I borrowed another Bukowski book from my girlfriend the other day and, well – it was weird. It was almost like burying myself in that book caused my brainstorming process to revert back to maybe eight-ish months ago, and while I was enjoying what I was reading, I was completely at a loss as to what to write for myself. What little I did get down felt dry and not quite up to my usual standards.
Thankfully I had the good sense to step back and pull up a few other authors I’ve been delving into lately – a little bit of Ross Martin here, a bit of Ben Purkert there. Fixed me right up, and I ended up with this bit of stream of consciousness. It’s definitely not complete, but it’s a start, and a start is a goddamn godsend after you’ve been floundering for an hour in front of a keyboard.