I'm pretty sure it's my destiny to be the greatest, most important human being history has ever known, but I'm going through this really long, boring gestational period. It's like, as an artist, I need time to CREATE!... and be spent. and CREATE!...aaaaaand be spent. People don't understand, I'll come up with an idea, just an *idea,* and that's it. For six months after that I can't get out of bed. And if someone would just take the time to *develop* and *realize* the idea, it would be the greatest work of human literature, or dancehall, since like Eggers or Sean Paul. I'm sort of like a modern-day Bruckheimer, or perhaps more accurately, like Prefontaine, but, you know, in an intellectual capacity instead of running. I have some scalp problems which nobody seems to understand, but I think that if I can make it to 50 without going spear bald I will have Beethoven hair. The following friendsters are gay: Donovan, Ben, Mat, Brian. Joy once said that I'm one of those people who looks like they should smell bad, but that I never do. I have started bathing less frequently since then, however. IM=earjoread more ...read less ...
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