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.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Knights Of The Old Republic...
I type this without my glasses. Without SPECTACLES, which is the Greek god of sight. Without TESTICLES, which is the Greek god of fertility. I am performing The Seven Labors Of Kevycles. But I keep on getting distracted. This is getting easier to do now. Too easy.
Everything is easier to not do now. Should I start worrying?
Even italicizing that one word took effort.
Typing italicizing made me feel triumphant.
Even typing makes me feel triumphant.
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