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 the god of imagination.
Not really...
I'm just tired
And
Full Of Poo...
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Johnny Blaze, Daniel Ketch And Truman Capote...
Seriously, I noticed it a long time ago and mentioned something but - what's the deal with 30 hits a day looking for Ghost Rider?
4 comments:
Like the song says, "All that lies between hate, love and revenge are just dead, dead, dead. It's just dead feelings."
Now I want steak.
I want boiled bones of Ewok.
With a nice mango chutney.
Most of my hits are looking for bazooms.
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