âI was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didnât have a god, politics, ideas, ideals. I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. I didnât make for an interesting person. I didnât want to be interesting, it was too hard. What I really wanted was only a soft, hazy space to live in, and to be left alone.â
â Charles Bukowski












