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, December 26, 2002
Santa Hates Santana, But Likes Satan...
Nice, but I'm glad it's over.
After all of the stupid New Year crap is done,
then we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming, won't we?
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