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, March 30, 2006
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Have I ever mentioned that I saw Charles Bukowski give a reading?
ReplyDeleteHave I, huh, huh, huh???
hey man I look at him and hope like hell that's what genius means
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