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.
Monday, June 23, 2003
No Doubt...
Talked to Luis tonight and he told me about the party that I missed on Friday night. Two open bars at the house, a dance floor, and the lovely Gwen Stefanie. Ummm...I will never have a pary at my house ever again, because now I'm too paranoid about missing something. I don't care if it's a funeral next time that I have planned - I'm ditching it to party like a rockstar with the rockstars. Damnit.
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