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, April 25, 2005
Roaches Have No Karmic Value...
I killed two spiders the other day. One, I felt guilty about and the other - I didn't.
The first fought valiantly. I needed to shower, though. I, at first ran water from the spigot, but the big fucker clung on to the sloped sides with dear life...
fuck - I'm being interrupted...
girlfriend and birthdays parties....
bite me.
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