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, April 20, 2006
Bubba-Ho-Tep...
I work next door to a plastic surgery center and have not seen one person come in or out of there. Either the plastic surgeon sucks really bad or they kill everybody who sneaks in. Maybe I'll go snooping around their trash and then I can make soap out of human fat like Tyler Durden did in Fight Club.
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Make sure you steal any good drugs that happen to be laying around.
ReplyDeleteYou know, so no kids accidentally get their hands on 'em, or somethin'.
Man, now it's getting funkier. I must report back in the future.
ReplyDeleteThey probably have a secret back door for patients, so no one can see who's going under the knife.
ReplyDelete"Yes Marge, my face was always this tight, why do you ask?"
Dammit, you discovered my hiding place!! Now how am I supposed to properly stalk you??? Do you know what the rent there runs me? Siiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
ReplyDeleteI like that shirt you wore the other day, though. Really brings out your eyes.
(or perhaps I'm just hoping you'll change my tag. This was probably the wrong way to go about that, now that I think of it. Oh well.)
ew
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