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, February 16, 2003
Walt Disney’s Head Part 2…
So. Everybody’s fat. Their children too. You can’t pay me enough money to wear mouse ears. I didn’t see Mickey Mouse, so I couldn’t punch him in the asshole in front of a crowd. I had to duck down into the shops in Adventure Island because the store awnings kept hitting me in the face. A young employee girl asked me to put out my cigarette please, this was a non-smoking section, there were smoking sections marked throughout the park. I said okay, thanks. I asked where should I put it out? She said, where do you usually put it out? I looked at her to see if she was trying to be sassy. I said, in an ashtray? And gave her a look. She said maybe I could just throw it on the floor. I said that I didn’t want to litter. I should’ve punched her in the asshole with a fistful of cigarettes.
Mo’ Later…
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