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.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I'm not ignoring you and I'm not being rude. You're on the phone. I'm okay with that. The reason that I'm writing now is because I just really wanted to write something.
which is funny being that i was more interested in what you were typing then to what i was listening to........and i'm ok with that
ReplyDeletemostly i'm writing now because i wanted to write something