I can’t believe no one else saw it. It was so obvious. Bukowski rages on his chick and kicks at her and strangely loses his cool, but it’s not her he’s mad at.
He is embarrassed of himself because he notices his unoriginalality and lack of follow-through. He does not like this fact, but it’s undeniable like death. When Bukowski sees the emptiness of his routine threat, it’s more painful than all the beatings and boils combined.
Avoiding pointless traditions is a step in keeping your identity. I know you don’t want to be average and holidays are for average people. Someone once told me, “you can’t plan a party”. It was a good day though.