If We Don’t Risk Our Lives For Drugs & Music, the Terrorists Have Won

There are times when it feels like I am regressing more and more into my youth. Sure, few people look forward to getting old, rusty and then dying painfully, but still, I think I have a more difficult time facing the loss of youth than most. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ancient, and with plastic surgery in the forecast, I will never be old. Don’t write me bitching about the breakdown of cells, the inability to maintain elasticity, blah, blah, blah…. As long as I feel and look young, that’s enough for me. Plus, I won’t make it to ancient. I fully intend to float away at some point, albeit much later in life. Anyone that’s had a grandparent that’s been old and sickly should understand my reasons for that. As I told my father just last week, I really hope to be a beautiful corpse. As I’m still a kid in my head, I will continue with my childhood pursuits: Sex, Drugs, and Music; I’d have said rock & roll but I’m not THAT old. Rock died with the onset of the Seattle-sound, grunge music in the 90’s. Sure, there are still some suckass cock-rock 80’s-type stragglers out there, but they’ll realize their sound will never be resurrected in the mainstream (or hell, any other world for that matter), eventually.
Anyway, back to the main point of this post: I am going to the ’06 Fiend Fest. Wahoo! I’m taking a risk since it’s in a really shitty part of Detroit. I mean REALLY shitty. Last time I was there, 5 minutes after I left, there was a drive-by and a few people were shot on the sidewalk. Though I certainly don’t want to take a bullet, the way I see it, there are few things worth suffering for more than art. Any yes, fuckers, it IS art. Even if you aren’t into old-school punk, anyone that isn’t a small-minded assclown should be able to admit that. I mean, you know the guy in NY that flung shit all over an image of the “virgin” Mary? Well, that was art even though the religious zealots freaked right the fuck out. So if you write me, let’s not have it turn into a punk vs. classical argument or some such shit. It’s all opinion, anyway. But if you wish to email me, feel free. Keep in mind that while all 3 are debatable, I really enjoy anyone telling me how beautiful, smart and saucy I am. For that matter, if you want to tell me that I am a vapid (or crazy) cunt, I’ll enjoy that too. I seem to have gotten several more readers lately and if I continue getting input, I’ll add a comments thing. Also, for anyone that gets especially creative with their email to me, I’ll post it here. Good or bad.
Now, back to the Fiend Fest. I am really geeked about going. These events are doubly fun as I will undoubtedly run into old friends and ex boyfriends. It’s always nice finding out who blew their brains out, ODed, ended up in the nuthouse, or going to prison. It’s a twisted family reunion of sorts. One with lots of drugs, tattoos, piercings, leather and angst. A friend contacted me wanting me to bring his girl with me so he can go out and shoot heroin all night without her knowing. Apparently his chick was cool until breeding, but then she decided that the only way to live is straight-edge (drug-free) and anyone that disagrees is shit. But she’ll eat at McDonalds. I mean, you’re dead if you you’re some bubble gummer that can’t handle your drugs and you’re dead if your heart bursts from clogged arteries from shoving nastiness down your throat. I was thinking of telling him I’ll bring her IF he gives me a bunch of oxies. I can’t get drunk anyway because the last thing I want to be is fucked-up in Detroit, driving around, getting lost in a neighborhood that is full of a bunch of gangbangers. If you make a wrong turn there, you might get shot for it. What a fucking cesspool. If it wasn’t for the occasional hockey game and Harpos, I’d rarely, if ever, go there.
Well, the percodans have kicked -in and I think I’ve rambled enough.