Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Someone asked me to comment for a Chronicle article about the arts scene in Austin (and specifically the collector base). I'm totally at a loss. Zimmermans talked about it in his blog, so I won't retread. Basically: We need more monies. And Austin people need to harness that nebulous creative spirit I see evidence of on those "Keep Austin Weird" bumper stickers. Done. Send. World saved. Art saved. Barton Springs saved. Ali anointed dictator of SoCo in a tye-dye drenched ceremony.

Today Risa said I'm like Morrissey in that I'm only happy when it's raining (see new moody profile pic for confirmation). Whatevs, who doesn't want to be like Morrissey? Only Morrissey doesn't want to be like Morrissey, everyone else does.

In other newz: I've begun blogging obsessively, it's like I can't stop. I can't pay my bills but I can type random bullshit about Morrissey. Sigh. Why can't someone just pay me to do this? Why can't I do this all day? I could write in my undies in a specialized terrarium with exotic flora and a never-ending stream of Coke and red wine. With a cool British friend who would chastise me coyly for my gruff Americaness. And a giant T.V. in a hollowed out Redwood would play all the seasons of Xena: Warrior Princess back to back. Why, BlogGod, why?

*I also want to mention that there are a shitton of people reading this blog from crazy places like Snohomish Washington. My blog seems to have gotten far more popular since I dissed Glasstire. Hmmmm, maybe I should play the provacateur more often.
McSweeney's is way overrated.
Please give me a job.


jasper said...

I met Morrissey once, he had the softest hands I have ever felt. Like rose petal soft, for real. And he was sweaty and nervous and shy and other stuff.

Ali Fitzgerald said...

You met Morrissey? Swooon. I knew he would have soft hands. I want to hold him for hours.

Merle said...

Dave Eggers is stupid.