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.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Whatever Song This Is, Playing - I Don't Like It...
But I'm too busy typing crap that you and I won't remember tomorrow.
By this time tomorrow, I will just be getting home from Hollywood from a horseback ride. I will probably've been very drunk before, but after the stupid freeway ride that always bores me to death the one in every six months that I go out to Hollywood...ummm what was I saying?. Ummm...I was saying that my buzz will be worn off and that I'll be tired.
Oh. I will not be drinking whilst atop the beast. I will be drinking at the Mexican restaurant that we're going to. Drinking whilst horseback riding WOULD be Friggin' A Awesome, though. I COULD bring my gals flask, eh?
I will not die on tomorrow nights horse. That will be up to my girlfriend. I grew up around horses and she's never touched one. How will I get home?
Please pick me up if you live in LALA/HOLYWEIRD.
Thank you.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hi! Comments! Your FACE is a comment! Huh?