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, July 02, 2007
Andtheworldjustseemstogoabitquickerwhenyourmindslowsabit
I stopped reading a story about what came before the Big Bang and was amazed that I had never thought about it before.
Then, my quest for knowledge intersected with my small brain’s conceptual and theoretical capabilities and imploded, funnel-like.
And that’s why I’m writing this now instead.
My cosmic roadblocks are now dividing further and folding into infinitesimal zeros…
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