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, June 03, 2008
It is sad not to love, but it is much sadder not to be able to love.
I'm living Pinocchio's life before he knew that humanity was possible.
I'm living the life that the story books never told us listeners -
About how hard it is to be a boy and what being a man really means.
lielielie to yourself
time passes
along with your nose
Gepeto's dead?
Now what?
What changes?
time passing
along with your nose
along with your nose
along with your nose
along with your nose
along with your nose
along with your nose
along with your nose
along with your long nose
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