"I could see the road ahead of me. I was poor and I was going to stay
poor. But I didn't particularly want money. I didn't know what I wanted.
Yes, I did. I wanted someplace to hide out, someplace where one didn't
have to do anything. The thought of being something didn't only appall
me, it sickened me. The thought of being a lawyer or a councilman or an
engineer, anything like that, seemed impossible to me. To get married,
to have children, to get trapped in the family structure. To go
someplace to work every day and return. It was impossible. To do things,
to be part of family picnics, Christmas, the 4th of July, Labor Day,
Mother's Day . . . was a man born just to endure those things and then
die? I would rather be a dishwasher, return alone to a tiny room and
drink myself to sleep."
Charles Bukowski
