There's no way I can stop writing, it's a form of insanity.

Yesterday I had myself a little adventure and went to the Barnes & Noble (this sentence is to be read in a hick voice). I tried reading the first page of Room, a novel told from the perspective of a five-year-old, but could not move past the infantile voice. Never before had I considered myself a kid-hater, but blithely bypassing the insightful narrative of a kindergartner perhaps confirms it. Perhaps. Still, I hear Room is worth reading, and I'd honestly like to give the fictional kid protagonist a chance to wow me with his world view, but I just finished Bukowski's Women. And, after reading a novel laden with pus, crude words signifying genitalia, and (stupid) women, I need a break from the poet laureate of sour alleys and racetracks; I need a break from the atypical. I want some white froth in my life, and I want it to come in a normal voice without sexual innuendos. I have never craved normalcy.

Title quote from Henry Chinaski, protagonist of Women and Charles Bukowski's alter-ego.