Wednesday, March 08, 2006

You got me, America!

I'm walking around town topless begging for beads and drinking hurricanes, carrying stolen stereo equipment, shooting at helicopters, raping babies at the Superdome, where I've piled corpses ten thousand deep, tapdancing in the Quarter for quarters, cloaked in a velvet cape pretending to be a vampire while drinking real blood donated by goth babies and sacrificial Southern virgins, sitting outside Anne Rice's house with binoculars and a crucifix, parroting phrases like "The Big Easy - I live in the Big Easy - le bon temps roulez le bon temps roulez le bon temps roulez," awash in a sea of fleur de lis, sniffing jasmine and dressing for dinner, getting drunk all day, smoking cigars behind beards in neon-lit daiquiri shops, having my palms read by veiled gypsies in dingy backrooms, jammin out to Jimmy Buffet and airport jazz, eating at Emeril's, sticking pins through dolls, escaping

along the Mississippi.

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