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.
Wednesday, January 15, 2003
Haley's Comments...
See? Instead of me writing something right now, like I should have a long time ago - I can just post this and have you tell me how your day is going in the COMMENTS instead. Then, after I wake up and do some meaningless crud, I can write stuff that'll make you shit your pants due to it either being terribly exciting or terribly-so-fucking-boring-that-your-whole-body-just-lost-all-control-and-what's-a-case-of-the-smelly-pants-anyway?-I-can-just-blame-Kevynn-for-the-whole-situation-and-send-him-the-bill-so-who-cares?
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