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, November 10, 2004
And The Whole Time I Was Standing In My Cat's Throw-Up...
I was just on the phone with a friend and he told me that while cleaning out his closet, he found about 1200 dollars worth of silver given to him in his last marriage. Pirate booty, indeed.
Anyway, this is very supercoolawesome because that means that when the Werewolves come - I have a place to go for ammunition.
Now all I need is for another friend to call me up and to tell me that he found some smelting equipment and then we're all set for the coming Werewolf Apocalypse.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hi! Comments! Your FACE is a comment! Huh?