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.
3/05/03
Happy Boozy Booze...
Ian, my drunken ASSistant will be here soon...
I'm checking out the comments that have been left by some of you from the Kevynn Malone Day list.
I hope nobody is confused. It's kind of funny, I feel like I'm in the Amazing Race or something and that I'm a couple hours behind the fastest and noisiest car that's in first place. Fuck did that make sense?
I should've said that I feel like Rascoe P. Coltrane chasing the Duke Boys...
That would've been better.
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