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.
Monday, November 25, 2002
Stupid Winds...
Go ask Wil-He'll tell you too. We get these winds out here that suck my big fat one to quote Stand By Me. What did he say in that? Suck my fat one, you cheap dime-store prick? Was that it? Anyway, these stupid Santa Ana winds ( I don't know why they call them that-Santa Ana is a city out here-what, do they come from there or something? ) They're the kind of winds that wreak havoc on those with sensitive noses like mine. It feels like somebody stuffed a couple of chopsticks up into my brain and turned on the snot faucets. Sorry. Gross. I tend to sneeze alot. I'm not the type that sneezes once either. Or like a little mouse like some of you-that always drives me crazy with jealousy. I sneeze HARD. FAST and FURIOUS. Yeah, if Vin Diesel was a series of about five sneezes in a row followed by thirty others...that'd be what his next movie would be called...I don't care if that made any sense. My nose is buggin' the crap out of me.
Stupid Winds...
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