I can't recall the last time that I got out of this sprawling, ghost-infested, sad, sad little place.
Time to go.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
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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...
1 comments:
Lucky asshole... I'm speding some quality time with my ghosts and demons. In fact! We're having so fun, we wrote a poem together.
There's much work to do,
Work that kills the inner soul,
work that never ends.
For a change, I'm trying to be an ray of sunshine. The week I stay here, can only contribute financially to my month long trip somewhere during the summer. Or, maybe i can just buy a bike... whatever. Hope you're having an excellente time.
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