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, November 04, 2003
Prince Caspian Or Hank Pym...
I'm hallucinating with more frequency now. I always see weird crap out of the corner of my eye, or imagine things that aren't there, but now I think I see ants all of the time. Are there any super fast mutant ants? Or do I have an invisible bird in my house that swoops down and eats them before I'm done turning my head? I'm glad that you can't hear ants. That would really suck if you could hear the pads of their tiny little monster feet or if they made those metallic screeches like in that old, giant ant movie. I think that an ant the size of a dog would be scary as hell, or, I don't know...maybe it'd be cool to have one to guard against burglars. Seriously, though. Haley Joel Osment sees dead people and I see ant ghosts.
Google search: Anteaters for sale.
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