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, March 02, 2003
If It Ain't Broke, Don't Jump Out Of The Car Then...
Six weeks off of work? How the hell can I do that? Please tell me that somebody put there is a millionaire so I can pay my bills/rent/porn fees. You would have to be a computer geek too. I don't know how to hook up that Paypal crud.
What the hell am I going to do in my freetime? I can't walk. My girlfriend's at work now, I'm all alone. Yesterday a bunch of friends came over and brought beer, cheese, and chips. Then my Hymen broke and they all left. Google search: Hymen. Besides the finacial woes, I think I will be nibbling crackers and drinking water while finishing screnplays then. Then by the time I'm all healed, I can give one to that lady from MGM. Then I'll kick her in the crotch and run away on my newly healed ankle. I'm gonna smoke...I'll be back in thirty six minutes....
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