Monday, February 27, 2006

I am really melancholy. I'm not sure why. My mother claims it is "the birthday blues," but I think it is more like "my life sucks-stock." It's like Woodstock, only with zoloft instead of reefer, and crying instead of crowd-surfing. And the music consists of a constant whiny droning that is less like Jimi Hendrix and more like the buzzing of impending insanity. Hmmmm, this analogy is getting awkward. But let's continue, shall we? I kind of feel like my brain is one giant, muddy intersection of gross, naked 1960's bodies. Like I am being suffocated by the flabby tattoed shank of an intoxicated lady named Rainy Racoon MoonBlossom. Whatever, I am going to move to Berlin and become a popular bar wench with colorful stories of the old country. And no one is going to judge me. Because, as we all know, the Germans are a very tolerant people. Everyday will be like "Cabaret." Perhaps if I summon the spirit of good ole' Liza Minnelli, it will catapult me into a better mood. What am I saying? She is a spooky, Jacko fellating-mess.


minimonk said...

Just think Sound of Music: raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, etc! You are enormously talented and have lots of nice friends...enjoy your youth... although now that you mention it, you are one year closer to the big one..ha ha!. your biggest fan...(you can delete this if you want)

Ali Fitzgerald said...

thanks momma. What is the big one? Are you referring to my death? If so, that is quite morbid. Do you want to move to Berlin with me and be my slightly older barwench sister?