... I'm in this fishbowl, you understand, a vast aquarium & my fins are not strong enough to get around in this big undersea city. I do what I can, tho the magic is surly gone. I just can't seem as yet to pull myself together out of this cold turkey state & get the 'inspiration', no writing, no fucking, no damn nothing. Can't drink, can't eat, can't turn on. Just cold turkey. So the gloom, but nothing seems to work just now. It's going to be a long period of hibernation. a long dark night. I'm used to the sun, to Mediterranean brightness & dazzle, to living on damn edge of the volcano, as in Greece, where at least there was light, there was people, was even what is called love. Now, nothing. Middle aged faces, young faces that mean nothing, that pass, smile, say hello. oh, cold gray darkness...

Notes of a Dirty Old Man/Charles Bukowsky