Anti's Wild Years

Somewhere between last thursday and now, I was turned into a rock and roll star. What else could explain the crazy hours I've been keeping, the hangovers, the pizza boxes everywhere, the big, dirty hair and sudden need to apply more and more and more eyeliner. Or the waist-level cloud of smoke permanently suspended in my apartment; which I assume is related to the empty packs of cigarettes that litter every flat surface. Packs I swear I just bought like, an hour before. Having coffee at seven pm, booze at seven am, falling asleep with the morning news instead of the late-night show. I mean, the electric guitar next to the toilet is a dead give-away. Who, I ask you, other than a rock and roll star has an axe next to the john? A banker? Doubt it.

I just hope who or whatever turned me into a rock and roll star turned me into a cool one. Like Chrissie Hynde, or Patti Smith. A Deal twin. Because I don't want to end up killing my infinitely more talented husband, flashing my tits ad nauseam during any of a million smack-addled near-comas, and wondering why the state won't grant me custody of my kid. That'd suck.

Posted by Antigeist at April 5, 2004 03:21 PM