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, November 20, 2010
laz e
Fuk. I relly dnt lik this com pumputer nd th smoeks all poring n my eys nd i guss its cld otside r at lest cld fr asouthern alifornia nd evn thogh tht ths sntnce wsnt tht gloriou it stll tk me mor tme t blw acros the thje kybrd. to blw ashs acrss this Mc kybord thet I fuckg hte. i'v wrien n prchmnt. imis cnieform. imis arrnging big St\nehenge bloks. i mis my CIA focallity. iam fuckng cazy andI am nts. I neeed t diee, aloonend wih mny petsz nd to b coverd wthvultre p]\ckings nd rdiation tht wll pngpingping pstumosly wi me nd yor grate gddamn granchildrn wen Richard Branson n Octobabies r mining ore n th Virgin Moon.
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