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.
Sunday, November 10, 2002
This post is rated...AAARRRRR!!!
there's a man right now living in a lighthouse and he's jealous of me.
jealous of what i'm doing and what i'm about to do tonight.
he may be thinking the same things that i am,
about how i could be jealous of someone in his position.
but it doesn't make it any better for him because I can walk outside.
WALK and WALK and WALK.
going until the hunger hits me.
i can talk and TALK and TALK and TALK and eventually someone will be listening.
the crash of waves can sometimes be a horrible friend.
just ask pirates.
theres booty in the water,
but if you dont grab it-and quick!
then it all SINKS..…..
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