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.
Thursday, November 21, 2002
Just Wondering...
But do you think Micheal Jackson ever dangled Macaulay Culkin
over a four story balcony in Berlin?
Did Culkin get an eerie sense of deja-vu watching video of it?
Was Micheal actually throwing the baby to a disguised but anxious Culkin down below?
Maybe they planned to meet up later after Culkin ditched the crowd. Then what? I don't know.
Micheal looks like a cat. Now his children, Prince 1 and 2
and whatever the hell the other's name is,
have to wear veils over their heads too. What?
I know why though. They actually aren't his kids.
They're all clones, see? Micheal's falling apart, so he had not one but three made.
Two boys. One girl. Whichever. Then he'll have his essence transferred to the
appropriate host/body when it's voice reaches full maturity.
I'm a genius. Thank you.
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