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, July 21, 2003
But Everytime I Pin Down What I Think I Want, It Slips Away - The Ghost Slips Away...
So many things to do today.
Write and call people.
Fix the damn computer thingy.
Pay bills.
Mail in rebates.
Finsh the cartoon script.
Finish something.
But, I don't know...going to the air-conditioned movies,
and enjoying all of the candy and cokes that you hid in your pockets sounds great to me.
" F " all of that other stuff.
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