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.
Saturday, July 26, 2003
It's Just Wrong...
To have to go to a friend's birthday dinner in Seal Beach.
Especially when it's expensive.
Especially when it's far away.
Especially when there's no actual seals at that beach.
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