With: 22 total letters, 20 are from 1975: February 24 to “near October” (most from March to June) and 2 from 1976: March 2 & May 1. Several with original drawings (many hand-colored with watercolor and/or crayon), 2 of the letters with 3 original paintings, 1 with an autographed phone bill. Letters signed “Hank” or “Buk”. Most with holographic ink corrections by Bukowski, some with extra side notes. All but 3 with the original mailing envelope (most typed, 3 hand-written). Each letter with Joan’s manila clasp envelope with her inked dates and/or identifying information. Letters measure 11x8½. * Also, two black and white photographs, one (3½x5 with creases) of Buk with a female admirer together inked on verso by Bukowski “The Buk: ‘Aw, Come on, Lady, Did you Really Like that There Poem?’” circa 1950’s and one (3½x3½) of just Bukowski (ink captioned on verso “The Depraved” by Buk, circa 1970’s). Includes a three-page narrative by Joan Babbage concerning her meeting and relationship with Bukowski.
Written when Bukowski was breaking away from Linda King, in these letters Bukowski found creative inspiration, a real friend in Joan Babbage and a kind of spiritual solace during a very emotional and intense period in his life. He writes about completing his second novel, Factotum, finding happiness and love in his life, Joan and her letters, social commentaries, poetry readings, etc., including most notably the great anticipation of finally meeting Joan Babbage (who lived in New York). Originally, they only corresponded by phone and letters, even though he professes his strong love for her. In several letters, he counts down the exact days until they would finally meet on June 28, 1975. Joan discovered Buk after reading Notes of a Dirty Old Man. “I liked the author so much and it all fit with my unrequited love feelings I decided I wonder what would happen if I tried to call this man?” She did and as described in the letters eventually stayed with him for 2 weeks. “He met me at the airport, looking shy and wearing….my father’s clothes? Almost. The pants…The shirt was 1960’s short sleeved, California polyester…clean and pressed. Yes, he was about 30 years older than me and he looked every bit of it. Battered face. Cat grin…Years of wear and tear. He looked…born that way. It was wonderful and scary as hell. I was afraid I would never measure up to the pedestal he had put me on in his letters. But then was that a trick too? The first few days were nice. I stayed with him in his little bungalow on Carlton. Actors, writers, dopers, and interesting people came and went. I was thinking, deep down, we would not last as a couple. I thought so much of him, but could not see any real sparks flying, but I was trying. We had both written ourselves into a place neither of us could find in the flesh.” She also writes about her encounter with Linda King, a fight between them, Buk watching it, smiling and the police arriving. Joan stayed with kind neighbors of Buk (Brad and Tina Darby). Later, she heard from Buk a couple times, wanted to meet again but she declined, wasn’t meant to be. It wasn’t until many years later that she heard of his death and wondered what happened to these letters. “I thought I had thrown them away, especially after I read the awful, untrue stuff he wrote about me in that book ‘Women.’ I felt so humiliated, so wronged by that I knew I had torn up at least a couple pictures from my visit there and figured the letters were gone, too…I have kept them these last few years and feel very fortunate to have known this great man, whose brilliant talent, wicked ways, and brief but deeply warm friendship took me on a terrific ride back in 1975. I hope whoever is lucky to own them now will treasure them always, and see another side to the man we thought we knew so well” – Joan Babbage. * Highlights: The first twenty from 1975: Feb. 23 (6 ink drawings): “…Hello Joan…I’ve heard that they were going to show the film at the Whitney but didn’t know I’d be there along with Henry M[iller]…He made a pretty clever move hooking on with that Japanese girl…still trying to round out novel [Factotum], only 4 more scenes. Did my first novel in 20 nights…with this one for 2 years…”. * March 2 (2 pp., drawings, including a devil man holding a flower): “yes, o.k. to come out, it rings good. only I have a very jealous girl friend [Linda King]. she got her car up on the sidewalk one time and tried to run me down…as time went on the roles switched…we split continually but seem to get back together…she’s a barmaid and works part-time…If you asked me if I loved her I’d say, yes. But I feel that we are barreling down to a total finality, a final zero, so I allow myself minor strayings into the atmosphere…Suppose I fall in love with you? Will you feed me to the dogs? It’s all right…Love, Hank.” * March 10: “Well, as I predicted, the lady and I have rifted. I intend to make it stick this time…things can finally get into a certain kind of fix: people begin to complain of each other; lovers become enemies…A girl I know in Frisco is coming down in about a week…I don’t think it’s love…and the sex is splendid. She’s a professional dancer…I hope you’re still coming to see me, especially since I’m a free man again…The guy who did the documentary [Taylor Hackford] is trying to make POST OFFICE into a movie…the other guy who bought the 2 year option on ERECTIONS phoned and said a big studio was about to bite…I get tremendous vibes from you…don’t mix your drinks, or your executives. And remember me. Buk.” * March 11 (2 pp., hand-colored drawings at end): “…in from track. I was $100 down and walked out a 5 dollar loser, so I almost feel like a winner…I’m trying to make this settlement with Linda [King], I am trying to keep the split split…she came over with her sister this morning…and they let me know that the men have been beating on her door…I’m going to watch the fights on tv…what Hemingway learned from the bullfights I learn from the boxing matches and the racetrack…only one man out of thirty knows how to make love and only one out of ten thousand can lay down a simple line of words…this is probably a love letter and I am trying to turn you on…you’ve turned me on. I hope we’re more than a couple of light switches…”. * March 20: “I wanted you to know that your two letters and your PHOTO have made me…SO HIGH…I can taste the love poems coming, my god…You MUST COME SEE ME THIS JUNE, YOU MUST!” * March 29 (3 pp. with ink drawings: pink flower, plus note signed “B.”): “I think you’d look fine in L.A., you’d improve the sun…I lose all normal thought processes when I read your letters - I get to floating up along the walls, the ceiling…I have very little contact with anybody who can fill me like you can…I’ve dropped all female relationships--sexually, spiritually…except with you…I hope to finish the novel [Factotum] before you arrive. It’s been dangling over me long enough…I think about your coming all the time…I’ll be walking across a room or buying a newspaper and there you’ll arrive in my head…I never thought I’d get lucky like this…Why aren’t you in bed with me so I can…tell you crazy stories in the dark?…I’m not as hard as my words sometimes are…I’m not seeking…to fool a young girl into a fuck…I care…My soul is one inch above my bellybutton…When I even think of you sitting next to me in my blue Volks, my head cracks…love, Hank.” * April 7: “This may sound rife…I always pull out just before climax…I’ve been lucky this way and the booze may have killed my sperm…You are the miracle, Joan…Love, Hank.” * April 20 (2 pp., drawings of man smoking, colored flower in pot, etc): “Christ, I finished the novel!…Big John Martin will let me know…I think of you often, sometimes on my walks down the street. And I fly right over the telephone wires. Love, Hank.” * April 21: “I know I do what I preach against but at least I know I’m a poetry whore, readings cuckold and suck. I’ll admit I’m on the hustle, but if you knew them you’d know that they really think they are bringing the holy message. Their vanity and their talent is thinning. And the audience is worse than the poet(s)…I eat the words of your letters…I love you without ever having met you…Hank.” * April 28 (3 pp., several drawings): “Your letter…put me floating, melting, musing…I never quite met anybody who could put the word down like that…You are warm butter and you are brave because what you intend to do most women wouldn’t have the guts to do…I haven’t been this high in years, thinking about you…But, please. After we meet, give me time…I love you already, we’ve touched in so many ways…I can feel you in bed. I can feel myself touching your hair, the backs of your ears. Does this sound terribly Hollywood? Well, this is Hollywood, you know…I hate sex as a medal, as a trophy, as an elk’s head mounted on the wall. With American men a good-looking wife and better-looking automobile are the same thing. (hey, that’s a good line. I better save that one for a poem. but meanwhile, it’s ours. yours.). I am oversexed at the age of 54. I’ll fuck a woman and then come home and masturbate because I’m not satisfied somehow…You are the first woman I have ever felt in contact with inside to inside…I may get very low, I may even get near suicidal…I tell you this because I want you to know that I will be living and eating and memorizing every moment that you are with me whether you are pissing or eating or sleeping…drunk or sober. I love you. Hank.” * May 6 (with drawings): “We’ve got something going, and I don’t know how it all started but it feels great…My soul is inside of my bellybutton and it kicks me around. I am hooked. and now on you …I’m sentimental, a romantic, but not like in the movies, but like in the real sounds and meanings of things…”. * May 12 (2 pp., 3 drawings – 1 of Buk and Joan kissing), original abstract oil painting “splotch” by Bukowski affixed to envelope: “You’ve charmed me completely…you are an astonishing and unusual woman, and if I meet you at the airport and you are a little old lady with a red shopping bag and a wooden leg and a film over one eye I will still go with you…I’ve told you I’m going to mail you this painting…”. * May 17 (2 pp., drawing): “My eyes are green but most people say they never see them…I like long skirts, I like short skirts…as long as I like what’s inside of them…I’m a leg-man. legs make me freaky, horny. I was that way when I was a kid. haven’t changed…don’t get hit by a truck, vanish or fall in love with any vice p. from G.E. Love The Buk.” * May 18 (2 pp., 12 drawings in the margins hand-colored in crayon or paint & includes 2 original paintings – 1 affixed to mailing envelope and 1 folded before the paint settled): “It’s so difficult to meet another human whose thoughts instantly slide into yours (mine)…Then I think, o shit, I’m going to JINX IT!…you at the airport…thinking, O Christ, what have I done?…Don’t go running off down some escalator…There’s no middle in me; I’m an admixture of two things -- total self doubt and supreme ego. Part of me will be saying, you don’t deserve her while the other part will be saying, she doesn’t deserve you, Bukowski…Sorry about the painting, it wasn’t dry and I folded it…I sent another, a better one, it should arrive soon…I’m cheating on you…going to bed with the poetry whore. But I’ve known her a long time. She’s turned on me a number of times but she’s always returned…and it has been better than ever…love, Hank.” * May 27 (2 pp., drawings – 1 of Buk reclining smoking with feet up with flower on table - some hand-colored): “came out of the reading in the redwoods still alive…a girl, quite attractive, came running up toward the stage – screaming – ‘I want you!…TAKE ME!’ I fought her off and they pulled her off stage and into the woods where I could still hear this long…scream…my guess was that she was on acid…I haven’t heard any more on the Rolling Stone situation from CREEM or Atlantic records, so it’s probably off…”. * June 6 (2 pp.): “Martin – Black Sparrow – phoned and said he really likes the new novel…’It’s got heart,’ Martin says…I always like Sherwood Anderson, at his best, because he just wrote things down…”. * June 11 (2 pp., drawings – 2 are colored): “Linda has asked that I treat her ‘kindly’ at least until she leaves for Utah…So I guess we’ll have to hold off on the phone calls for a while. I do owe her something – after 4 years. I hope this doesn’t get you too miffed; I keep getting scared pissless that something I say or do will anger you…I’m going to drink you like coffee, spread you like butter…I love you, Joan, we’ve been propelled together by some great miracle…”. * June 16 (2 pp., hand-colored drawing and Buk’s salad oil stains): “with writing there is this pressure: you’ve got to be good at it and you’ve got to stay good at it or you’re back in the soup line. This causes most writers to over-write or press, and they begin to hack it…I don’t mean that I have total answers; I mean I’ve had longer to get at it, angled in from the side and almost hit the center…there’ll be salad oil on these pages, and me…love, Hank.” * June 20 (2 pp., plus Bukowski’s Pacific Telephone bill for May/June showing $98.94 in total charges, mostly calls to NY, inscribed “Joan – These Bastards Ought to Deduct for Love Calls” with drawings; letter with drawing on back – showing a man chasing a rabbit – tail, in double motion; other hand-colored drawings): “Enclosed a phone bill. Yours must have been worse. Did we go mad? It was worth going mad…I love you, Hank.” * “near Oct. 1975”: “I gave you the gentle kiss-off and now Linda has given me mine: ‘You’re too old. And you don’t appreciate my work, you don’t appreciate anything I do. It’s over.’…I’m getting rather sick of all human relationships and I’m going to hole up and kick clear of a lot of shit…Busted my leg on a drunk…It’s infected…and I have to read in Houston…hope your luck is better than mine. Hank.” * March 1, 1976 (with drawing): “I should be in N.Y.C. June 23 to do the St. Marks on the Bowery bit…maybe I can see you then…I’m still writing my mother-fucking poems and seem to have started my 3rd novel. The Linda bit is over…human relationships are so…loaded with shit and knives…I offer more than regrets, but what can I say?…from your old x-luva…Buk.” * April 30, 1976 (2 pp. with red drawings): “Of course I’d like to see you again. The wrestler now lives in Phoenix…I’m probably, right now, in the most disorganized and down state of my life…shit right up the soul. She’s doing it to me…but as you know, for a person to shit upon you they must DRAW YOU IN FIRST…And yet I think the gods send me along the right (wrong) people at the right (wrong) time to keep me from fattening into a pious strawsucker…This gives us loads of grief and laughter…I’d like to see you again. For loads. O.K., - Hank.” * Finally, includes a copy of Northwest Review, Vol. XVI, No. 3 (1977), which contains a Buk interview giving his version of the what happened when Linda King showed up during Joan's Babbage's visit (see pp. 20-21).