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.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Who Created Ultron?...
I've never had any idea what I was doing. I've never had a plan. I've never fully dedicated myself to anything. And if I said that I had it all figured out - I was lying.
I hope that whatever I'm doing works because I don't want to be content eighty years from now. I want everything NOW. I want to be floating out on a lake, on a boat. Drunk, sun-burned and singing. Nobody will ever know that I killed her. They would never think to look on the lake bottom. But, I'll keep the head as a souvenir. And if the power goes out in the freezer? Who knows. There are always stores that sell ice, right?
I don't know what that was all about.
You get tired sometimes, sometimes you're too lazy too erase or fix shit - because what's the point? You like it. You hate it. You like it better later, hate it more later, etc.
I killed two spiders today. That seems a bit excessive, doesn't it? One I felt sorry for and one I didn't. I'll explain to you why if you ask me.
I want to stay inside forever. I'm sick of talking to people. I want to be Eric Stoltz from MASK, John Travolta from The Boy In The Bubble and Boo Radley from To Kill A Mockingbird all wrapped up into one. I'm probably a bit more Howard Hughes, though. Just without the immense wealth. doh. I don't know.
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That first paragraph. So familiar.
ReplyDeleteThen again, I only know a handful of people to whom it wouldn't apply.