Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

The author asks to himself,

“Why is it that if a monkey is given a typewriter, it’s random keystrokes will eventually lead to the writing of one of Shakespeare’s plays, and yet I sit here in front of a blank screen with nary a thought crossing my mind?”

His contemporaries stay silent as the internal dialog goes on, for they all have experienced the same sort of stopgap in their flow of ideas. The author’s girlfriend (since of course, an artist in any sense without a significant other is a homeless one), smacks him and tells him to leave the house and go for a walk or get a “real” job.

The chances of that happening, of course, are about the same as the chance that a monkey would write Romeo & Juliet when put in front of a typewriter.

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