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.
Tuesday, July 01, 2003
Frank Castle, Tony Stark, And Jubilee...
My girlfriend almost gave away a bag full of my toys to the retard truck - I mean, the truck that comes by and picks up things for the retarded home. It was a big plastic bag full of extra and old toys that I keep in the garage that I have no room for. Nerd. It wasn't her fault, but it still scared the shit out of me. Wives and mothers who clean out garages and attics are the enemy of childhood keepsakes and nostalgia. I still miss my Garbage Pail Kids, Muscle Wrestler Things, and Transformers, bastards.
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