I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas.
My fingers are Santa's little helpers.
My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments.
I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn.
Sisyphus, sweating uphill.
Bukowski,
scribbling away
in rooming houses.
A river always flowing.
I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
A Pig Is An Animal With Food On His Face...
My eyes are burnin' gods holy hell fire and no amount of itching is gonna help them, I think.
Argh. It's like somebody dumps chili powder in them while I'm asleep.
I blame the cats. Yeah, you.
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Hi! Comments! Your FACE is a comment! Huh?