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.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Broke My Promise...
Two bruised ribs from a waterslide.
A skinned spine, knee and left arm to compliment the right.
I realize that I have a problem with swimming.
Admitting that I have a problem is the first step to curing myself of this horrible addiction that I carry.
From this day forth, I am...water-free.
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