Blazek planned a book of Bukowski letters but the project never reached completion. Some letters, however, were included in the Bukowski Sampler that he published in 1969.

[To Douglas Blazek]

September 30, 1965

[* * *] I thought you were thinking of a general book of letters but if you want to do an all-bukowski thing, shit, I’d like to see what I have written too. honor, honor, like a crippled cat fighting off a bulldog or police dog while backed to the fence. (this is good scotch). if we should somehow get some fancy publisher and there’s any $$$, I’d suggest we split the god damned loot 3 ways: Blazek, Blatt, Buk. the mighty bees. I don’t look for such luck, however. [* * *]

given a choice, 9 times out of ten a woman would rather sleep with money than talent. given a choice, 7 times out of ten a woman would rather sleep with money than genius. given a choice, ten times out of ten a woman would rather sleep with more money than less money. [* * *]

Younger readers may need reminding that this letter was written before the widespread availability of the xerographic copying machine.

[SENT TO DOUGLAS BLAZEK]

[ca. September, 1965]

an open letter to those who hold my letters to their bellies in the dark closets their lives…

Dear mr. miss, mrs. queer, lesbian and so forth,

what the hell, they are stacking the stuff up to smear us like fly smear and you hold onto a couple of ten cent baubles. these editors are attempting to collect a collection, that’s profound enough, and a dog with 3 legs staggers. dogs, flies, ach! what I mean is, don’t be that way—when I wrote you to begin with, I wrote you because I thought you were a real person not a real estate salesman of sorts, and look look, I am drinking here now and I think the sky will fall down, I look around in panic, 45 years dripping from my belly and you hold onto a couple of letters. it’s this, it is a collection, and, shit, it may be YOUR LAST CHANCE AT IMMORTALITY, ah haha ha!

when I wrote these letters I wrote them to you and I wasn’t thinking about a collection because as you must know I was mostly very poor and very unknown and still am. yet, some find interest in these drunken wailings. are you going to kill me like being a screw in a jail? are you going to half-kill me like a whore taking my wallet while I sleep? are you going to fire me like the factory foreman because orders have fallen off? are you going to kick me out like the landlord because I can’t pay the rent. WHAT I AM TRYING TO SAY IS THIS: ARE YOU GOING TO BE LIKE THE REST OF THE WORLD OR ARE YOU GOING TO BE LIKE THE PERSON I THOUGHT I WAS WRITING TO? if this sounds like I am begging, then I am: I am begging for faith and a little bit to go on with.