Pulp by Charles Bukowski 1994

I needed a vacation. I needed 5 women. I needed to get the wax out of my ears. My car needed an oil change. I failed to file my damned income tax. One of the stems had broken off my reading glasses. There were ants in my apartment. I needed to get my teeth cleaned. My shoes were run down at the heels. I had insomnia. My auto insurance had expired. I cut myself every time I shaved. I hadn't laughed in 6 years. I tended to worry when there was nothing to worry about. And when there was something to worry about I got drunk. 
--Charles Bukowski, Pulp (Black Sparrow Press, 1994)

Pulp was the last of Charles Bukowski's six novels; he also published many volumes of poetry, short stories and essays.  In Pulp the narrator, private dick Nick Belane, describes the hallucinatory events leading up to his death.  I read Bukowski's first novel Post Office (1971) when I worked for the post office in the 70's and it is brilliantly funny in its accurate descriptions of the life of a postal worker, based on Bukowski's own ten years working as a letter carrier. Pulp is amusing in a totally different way, as the hallucinations of a dipsomaniac and a parody of Hemingway, Henry Miller and, especially, Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground (1864), with its unreliable narrator.