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.
Monday, August 02, 2004
Hammurabi's Code Of Underwear...
You should come visit me over here.
I really think you should.
I'll be happy.
And trust me - you want to make me happy.
You really do, I know it.
Focus today on making me squeal like Ned Beatty.
You don't even have to touch me in the place where my bathing suit covers.
Which is France. My bathing suit covers France.
That was stupid.
But made me laugh.
Goodbye, Toadface.
That was stupid too.
And didn't make me laugh.
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