Yes?’ he asked, looking at me over the sheet. ‘I’m a writer temporarily down on my inspirations.’ ‘Oh, a writer, eh?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Are you sure?’ ‘No, I’m not.’ ‘What do you write?’ ‘Short stories mostly. And I’m halfway through a novel.’ ‘A novel, eh?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘What’s the name of it?’ ‘”The Leaky Faucet of My Doom.”‘ ‘Oh, I like that. What’s it about?’ ‘Everything.’ ‘Everything? You mean, for instance, it’s about cancer?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘How about my wife?’ ‘She’s in there too.
Charles BukowskiUnderstand me. I’m not like an ordinary world. I have my madness, I live in another dimension and I do not have time for things that have no soul.
Charles BukowskiWriting is like going to bed with a beautiful woman and afterwards she gets up, goes to her purse and gives me a handful of money.
Charles Bukowski