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, July 14, 2004
Bremen...
Ran into the bedroom to give the girlfriend a kiss. Legs got snagged by two laundry baskets. Fell flat on my face. Now she's done laughing. And I'm done giving her kisses.
Then she asked me if I'd make her something that wasn't fattening. I sliced up some organic cucumbers with a little dish of low sodium soy sauce. She ate half and then gave me the plate. She said she wasn't hungry anymore. Minutes later I heard a plastic-ky-type rustling coming from the bedroom. I ran in and almost tripped over the laundry baskets again. She was eating Cheez-Its.
After this post, I am killing her in her sleep.
Thank you.
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