I'm trying to hard to write something.
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.
2/29/12
2/17/12
2/08/12
How can I write when...
I'm scared of waking you up?
That's supposed to come after.
I need a garage.
Or Roald Dahl's Man Cave.
Look it up.
That's supposed to come after.
I need a garage.
Or Roald Dahl's Man Cave.
Look it up.
2/02/12
Bees Dying Collapsing Disorder Worry Colony Honey, Please?
Watch Silence of the Bees on PBS. See more from Nature.
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