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, March 16, 2004
Chinks...
I can hear a distant sprinkler spraying water against metal once every five seconds. Just realized that it was the music from the headphones right by me. Just realized that I'm retarded.
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