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.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Hennery products...
The last time that I submitted to an open Marvel Comics call for writers/artists, I submitted a story about a widowed father who shows his children the house that he grew up in.
Oh, no, no, no Malone. You're not getting away that easily, what's this idea you e-mailed me about?
ReplyDeleteWill IT be a polymorph like T-1000 yet confused and esoteric like Thora Birch and her unreasonably large tata's in American Beauty?
Anyway, your story about the dad and the kids and the old house was missing something.
The fucking Power Cosmic.
Marvel woulda picked it up in a second.