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, January 14, 2004
Supplement Facts...
After work I saw the homeless guy that I always talk to. The one with the silver briefcase that yells out loud sometimes in the street. He's a very nice guy the times that he remembers me. I just got a newspaper from the liquor store when he saw me...
Hey, man - how's it hanging? Got some change? Haven't seen you around for a while!
I told him that I'd been around, maybe we'd just been missing each other.
Hey, man - you lost some weight!
I told him, me? No way. I never lose weight. Really?
Yeah, hey - you look like you're thinner. You gotta eat more. Get yo'self a lady!
Ha! I've already gotta lady, though...
Hey, you can get yo'self another!
Sure. Okay. Well, here you go. Take it easy man.
Yeah, okay - you still bartending at that...
Uh huh. Right down the street. Waiting tables too.
Cool, man. Cool.
Okay, bye.
Yeah. You too.
And then as I walked away he yelled...
Yeah, oh yeah, you should take a nap too!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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