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.
Wednesday, May 14, 2003
I Want You To Curse Me As Hard As You Can...
Curse club, baby.
Tell me off.
Because, we all deserve to be put down sometimes, I think.
And if your imagination fails you, try to work through the alphabet, or just see how many words this commenting system will take.
P.S. I humped your mom. Yes, I did.
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Comments! Your FACE is a comment! Huh?