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.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Phone Call (Seattle Bar noise in the background)
Ian - Hey, buddy - gotta Star Wars question for you.
Self - Ha ha, sure - what's up?
Ian - What're the Sand People called from Star Wars?
Self - Tusken Raiders.
Ian - Awesome, and what are the things that they ride called?
Self - Banthas.
Ian - Sweet. Thanks, man.
Self - Will it help you get lucky?
Ian - Ha ha...maybe.
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