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.
Sunday, October 26, 2003
You're Killin' Me, Larry...
Man, I need to write something, but I don't know what. Maybe I can write on the cartoony thing considering I have somebody to pass it on to who will pass it on to somebody, and then, maybe they'll pass it on to somebody. But stupid SNL is making noise to my right, the cats are just as annoying to my left, and the smoke from the friggin' fires are making my nose and eyes run like Jesse Owens in the negro Nazi Hitler Olympics.
The sink smells too.
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