"All Men Are Like Flies" by Eddy Duhan is a book of poem/songs that is the antithesis of Hank Chinaski, or Charles Bukowski. The works contained here have been selected from a period of 43 years when Eddy Duhan began writing from the age of 15. Many of these writings were recovered from memory and a crashed computer. During the mid- 80's Eddy discovered the poetry of Charles Bukowski while selling giant teddy bears door to door in L.A. and O.C.. when he walked into an extremely friendly and liberal lawyers office who purchased 5 big 5ft teddy bears of different colors and placed them all around his office! Eddy shared some of his poetry with the lawyer and the lawyer said, "Hey you remind me of Charles Bukowski in a weird sort of way..." I told him I did not know who that was. He suggested I get one of his books, so I did. Then I checked into a cheap motel in Redondo Beach with "Burning in Water Drowning in Flame" in hand. The East Indian motel manager stuck his head out the window, stared at me, and looked around. No luggage, by myself, 1am, a beat up old blue Olds! He yelled "WHAT DO YOU WANT!" I told him, "I'm just here to read this book!' "OK OK!" he said and handed me the room key.
"All Men Are Like Flies" by Eddy Duhan is a book of poem/songs that is the antithesis of Hank Chinaski, or Charles Bukowski. The works contained here have been selected from a period of 43 years when Eddy Duhan began writing from the age of 15. Many of these writings were recovered from memory and a crashed computer. During the mid- 80's Eddy discovered the poetry of Charles Bukowski while selling giant teddy bears door to door in L.A. and O.C.. when he walked into an extremely friendly and liberal lawyers office who purchased 5 big 5ft teddy bears of different colors and placed them all around his office! Eddy shared some of his poetry with the lawyer and the lawyer said, "Hey you remind me of Charles Bukowski in a weird sort of way..." I told him I did not know who that was. He suggested I get one of his books, so I did. Then I checked into a cheap motel in Redondo Beach with "Burning in Water Drowning in Flame" in hand. The East Indian motel manager stuck his head out the window, stared at me, and looked around. No luggage, by myself, 1am, a beat up old blue Olds! He yelled "WHAT DO YOU WANT!" I told him, "I'm just here to read this book!' "OK OK!" he said and handed me the room key.