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.
Friday, May 27, 2005
From Hell...
The keys feel like hard Play-Doh.
Am I finding it hard to concentrate because of the Abshtine/abshthinse/abracadabra stuff of my friends that I drank tonight? Now, trust me - i'm more of the boobt boring type. Only Bud/boring light and maybe the occasional mixed drink combined with the usual madness, but I don't even like taking Aspirin. I've had my fair share of madness back in the exploratory years - but liquor-ish crud never makes the night for me.
But, tonight my friend had some Absithne/abdkdwejkrd. I had alot. Stuff that we can get in America is weaK. i tHINK THAT i WAS BUZZED AND ALL THAT IT MADE ME WAS DRUNKER. TRY TO EXPLAIN THAT TO MY GIRLFRIEND AND MY FRIEND'S GIRLFRIEND. i FELT LIKE THE ONLY GUY IN THE ROOM WEARING PANTIES. i NEED TO TURN THESE CAPLOCKS OFF.
If you don't listen to Atari Teenage Riot or to Alex Empire - then die of your own non-noisy poo.
I will take bets that I'll feel like Atari Teenage Riot tommorrow, though.
I'm finding it hard to concentrate. I want to laugh, write and rip your head off.
So, apparently this crap doesn't work because this is how I normally am.
Absithne be damned.
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