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.
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
Raw! Houghh! Good God, Y'All...What Is It Good For?...
Absoulutely nothin', say it again.
Dude, this hamburger needs to go back on the grill.
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