Tales of Ordinary Madness. Carter seems like a Bukowoski kind of guy. Not the kind who buys it just to put on their bookshelf so they’ll seem edgy and interesting, but the kind who would actually consume every page and appreciate the madness, relate to the filth. The first time I tried to read Bukowski, I ended up red-faced and grimy with such a thick coat of shame, I felt like people could see it on me. Carter doesn’t know shame, though. He would be able to enjoy Bukowski the first time through. I realize my own thoughts sound a lot like admiration. Like there’s some part of me that revels in
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