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, July 26, 2005
Dude.
The other day I bought a bag of potatoes and it's totally smelling up the house. And now I don't know where to put the bag of potatoes. We have no room for a bag of potatoes.
Also, on the vegetable front...I have an avacado pit. As far as I remember...can't you stick some toothpicks in one, half-immerse it in water, and then a plant will start growing out of it? I made a bet with friends that this would happen years ago and all I ended up with was a cup of smelly water and I had to throw it away.
Did I just imagine that you could do this?
Or was it a potatoe?
I'm spelling potatoes wrong, huh?
potato?
potatoe.
tomatoe. tomato.
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