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
If Comic Books Were Beers - Then I'd Sell My Liver On eBay...
Right now my house smells like the mall.
Earlier today, TARGET sounded exactly like being on a cruise ship.
Also, I see a horrible piece of writing in my future.
See? Here it is. The post, not the picture, you penis.
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
ReplyDelete