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.
Friday, July 11, 2003
Chris Is Queer - I Mean, Here...
I don't really have much to say. I've been itching my right eye. Now it's all red. Combine that with my sick-ass light brown eye on the left and I look like I've been shot in the head. We have to go to Courtney's house at 9:30. My friends start everything late. I think I'll show up later than everybody else. I'm tired. I watched Punch Drunk Love. I liked it. I'm drinking a beer. I like it also. I drink a lot of beer. I feel no guilt. The new Spider-Man cartoon is going to be on MTV tonight. I feel a tingle in my crotch area.
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