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.
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
Theo Huxtable's Best Friend...
Tonight I saw a cockroach the size of a baby. Not here. Somewhere else.
When I was young, I saw a cockroach jump off of a roof.
In one of my first apartments, I threw off my jacket and hopped in the shower. I was in a hurry. As I was out the door, I put my jacket back on. I felt something like a long hair on the back of my neck and grabbed at it with my hand, and then it moved towards my chin.
Some fly.
Some drive.
Some crank call you.
Some dig in your trash for persoanl infornation to be used for identity crimes.
I hate them. They scare the crap out of me. Now I'm paranoid.
Thanks alot, baby-sized cockroach.
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