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.
Friday, November 22, 2002
And remember, folks...
It's friday today-So this weekend, don’t do drugs that’ll make you smell like a hippie, cause holes to appear in your head, or make you want to fight the local law enforcement. Don’t have sex with anybody that Bill Clinton wouldn’t touch and don’t dangle anything out of a balcony unless it’s your penis or a child of Micheal Jackson's.
By the way, My neighbors just gave me twenty boxes of Jell-o....
What do you think I should do with it?
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