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, October 22, 2005
No More Golfing For Me...
3 A.M. in the park across the street. Drunk w/ a neighbor. I fell getting more golf balls. Now I won't have a limp anymore because I might've broken my LEFT ANKLE NOW.
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