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, October 04, 2003
Mortons Salt...
It's colder. Rain seems like a possibilty now instead of a distant wish. My car window is still broken. Who wants to take bets on the impending precipatation vs. my inabilty to get my window fixed so that it can go up? I picture a soggy ride in my future. What do I do if it starts to rain when I drive? I either have to get this fixed or buy some galoshes.
Yes, I did just say galoshes.
Galoshes.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hi! Comments! Your FACE is a comment! Huh?