So much of a rant I can't even think of a title

I woke up this afternoon finding out it was not only National Coffee Day but to a post on facebook of good reads, books that have been banned. To solve the whole burning books and banning books problem, maybe go to a lesser evil. In the nineties there were those little stickers on music (cds at the time) saying explicit lyrics. Why not put those on books then asked for an id.
One of the books on this list was Tropic of cancer by Henry Miller. I read that book and I thought that was how wirters are suppose to be. I have read and skimmed that book so many times it no longer has a cover.
My self destructive phase was probably influenced by alot of things like BUckowski. I found myself beginning the night with a twelve pack of pbr sitting infront of a computer and writing. I was trying to be like these guys like so many other young Americans. I thought as delusionary as it sounds I was becoming like them. Writing was my love (probably still is) and without it I was an amputee.
Now I feel like I don't want to be like these guys. Drunken writers are a dime a dozen. I ask you this with all the flavored vodkas around and sweet drinks what kind of writers are we creating now? I sometimes get stares when I order a shot of Jack Daniels black lable. It almost seems like it isn't socially accepted anymore. I order a shot once in a blue moon and I don't make the face. I just enjoy the burning down my throat.
Where I go to drink I see buff guys drinking fruity shooters, and they are all about it. I laugh to myself because even though they could probably kick my butt they are drinking girlie drinks. Atleast when I was on the track of being just another drunk that was what I learned.
If Henry Miller walked into a bar nowadays not to mention he would still be waiting in line to go into the club from last weekend he would say something. Or maybe he would realize that it is what girls drink and he would try to buy as many sweet shots his royalties check can handle. Do you think the average girl would see the brillance of MIller's mind or see him as a creep? I figure a creep. He would hate Henrico County.
On to Bukowski. I've been going to this particular place for awhile, and when you do that you start seeing the same faces. I can think of two women Bukowski would go for. They even refer to themselves as drunks and they are unemployed. One had modeling agency in California, and said she could make me a star. A star of what I wonder. I figure Bukowski would charm their socks off of both of them. I have met them once and they have fogotten me ever since. This summs up meeting drunks at a bar. You might have a great conversation with them but you see them again and they will forget you, unless you remind them you bought them a drink. If you do that and they remember you chances are they will just want another free drink.
Artist, all of them, do not have to be alcholics or junkies. If your heros are dead raise you coffee mug and toast to the greats.