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.
Monday, March 01, 2021
NOT PENNY'S BOAT
Oh, Lost...how I miss watching you. God, it's been 10 years? I remember vividly my finale experience and skipping out on a "Lost finale party" and running home to watch it by myself. Now I'm getting super emo. Hi.
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