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.
Saturday, April 12, 2003
Billie Holiday Playing Is Not Helping...
So, I was in the process of telling you what was in my fridge, after I got down to the half empty/full jar of Skippy peanut butter - I stopped and started to eat the half empty/half full chicken sandwich from the barbeque last night. This was happening while I was still sitting on a little stool in front of the open fridge door. I put away the sandwich and felt very foolish. Oh, I need help.
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