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, May 10, 2003
The Incredible Mr. Limpet...
I had so many things to say today, and now I'm just kind of puttin' around. I was going to write about a couple of things, but erased them. I just didn't have it in me to write anything that actually required effort. I haven't been able to focus on writing in the last couple weeks or so. I've also noticed that less people visit this, now that I'm not stuck at home with the broken ankle. I had a lot more time on my hands and the opportunity to post more. Maybe I'll jump out of a car again and break the other one? My ankle still hurts and I can't walk for extended periods of time. It starts to hurt and swell up. I felt like a goon at Disneyland the other day. I was the guy, when you're getting off of rides, that slows down all of the people trying to leave. Sorry, folks - but fuck off. Don't make me limp on over to you, try to kick you, and then fall down.
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