"It was my turn for a little good luck, not much, but a little. It was true that I didn't have much ambition, but there ought to be a place for people without ambition, I mean a better place than the one usually reserved. How in the hell could a man enjoy being awakened at 6:30 a.m. by an alarm clock, leap out of bed, dress, force-feed, shit, piss, brush teeth and hair, and fight traffic to get to a place where essentially you made lots of money for somebody else and asked to be grateful for the opportunity to do so?"

This pretty enthralling piece of literature is as famous as it is violent. In a very brutal way Bukowski opens one's eyes and mind like no other in his writing (with what feels almost like a screwdriver). A human being stuck in a loop of working, drinking, indifference and random sexual intercourse. Life at its most pathetic. Years ago I read Fuck Machine that left me pretty impressed but as I stumbled upon Factotum in a bookstore in Berlin, I realized while reading, this is the book everybody is quoting from. A man without ambition for a real job, jumping from one to another in between New Orleans, L.A. and New York City. It feels almost naturally autobiographical which in a way it has to be because Bukowski is so close to reality but still surreal nonetheless. I once read that he became a writer considerably late in life and that his former jobs (and he had quite a few himself) were just as extraordinary, if not more exotic than those of his main characters. His very pessimistic way of nailing himself down with words, so honestly, makes the reader think about his own life, stuck in consumerism, working a life away for someone else without any real meaning to it, pretending in materialism and a pleasant lifestyle on the outside but worn down to the lowest instincts on the inside. Whoever has been on a tube during a London rush hour knows what this man is talking about. He is also exposing the starving artist as a hoax with the mindset of man only serving his fellow man for his own good, achieving quite the opposite. Personally I feel Bukowski and every pathetic scenery in this book reminds me more of how important it is for us today to follow our dreams, eager and with passion. Hold to the difficult and believe in yourself. Along the way, you'll be swallowing both the highest of highs and lowest of lows. But you will live.

And eventually be able to love.