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.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
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I'm peckingly typing while giving you second hand smoke/cancer company.
You're sleeping when I'm waking up.
Two houses alike in dignity.
You are solar panels and I am The Vampire Lestat.
Just not as gay.
The Vampire, not the alternative energy source.
This was stupid.
It was a long work shift, forgive me.
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