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, April 13, 2004
Pay No Attention To The Man Behind The Curtain...
Thank you to The Jesus Bunny for giving me the day off on Sunday. No bartending for me, folks – so that meant serving drinks to myself. Which is cool, but not as financially lucrative. So it goes.
I bought fourteen dollars worth of Halibut that nobody ate. Joe bought enough steak to feed an army – which everybody later ate. Played poker, and then ended up getting drunk with Tony and taking pictures into the wee hours of the night. Gay. Yes. But fun.
I've reached an all time low.
My pic's on the internet.
Might as well log on to a Star Trek message board now...
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