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 21, 2003
Kettle...
First time I smoked pot, my older brother and his friends just stood around and laughed at me. We were all standing around in the middle of his friends street doing nothing anyway. I was whatever age that you are when you're in seventh grade. I liked to ditch school a lot. Or my brother and his friends would kidnap me and we'd stay at one of their parents houses. I used to drink a bunch of horrible liquor with them too. Maybe that's why I only like beer now. I sometimes start to giggle or talk nonsense. I'm fun for about twenty minutes and then I pass out. I can't drive stoned, just can't do it. My friends can operate heavy machinery, make dogs jump through hoops, talk to the president. I start to drool or call you a lesbian. I once dated a girl who made me drink Jack Daniels with her everytime I got beer. She was tough shit and hot as hell, so I drank whatever she wanted me too. I've ingested it all. I've gone through so many different alcohols, It's sick.
Stick a cucumber in me and I shit out a pickle.
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