2005-01-04 - 9:51 a.m.

fake memoir

I'm going to write an autobiography. You knew that already? Well I'm not talking about that one. I'm going to write a completely and totally made-up memoir. In it I was born to a naughty nun who broke her vows. She went into labor in Hiroshima at the instant the bomb was dropped and the radiation gave me an unaging outside with a tortured inside. Since the sons will be punished for the sins of the fathers and whatnot, God saw to it that I would be at every absurd event between my birth and death. Only then would I be cleansed of the iniquity of my mother. I was blacklisted by McCarthy as a preeteen. I bought some weed off a Hell's Angel in Dallas but couldn't find anywhere to smoke it because there were people everywhere. So I snuck into a book depository and started talking to this nice Oswald fellow. A few minutes later we heard shots and he was like "shit!" I'm still trying to figure that one out, but when I went to the island where Elvis, Hitler, Jim Morrison, Tupac and all those other people who aren't really dead live, I was informed by the all-knowing eternal ones that on the grassy knoll that day there was a young Polish man who was later rewarded for his act by the aliens who made him Pope. Sounds a bit far fetched, I know, but I'm only repeating what Elvis told me. Anyway, I was an extra in a "where's the beef" commercial. I had a napkin ready when the first Bush puked on the Japanese prime minister. I was a maid at the Watergate, and for a time I fell for that stupid hammer pants trend. My only comfort came from my decade-long marriage to Morrisey, but I became disheartened when he continued to publicly assert his celibacy in spite of our vows. So I cheated on him with his guitarist, the albeit less charming Johnny Marr, and that's why The Smiths broke up. While they were together, though, they wrote such charmingly poiniant songs of love and longing (about me!) that it prompted a whole new genre. And that's how i created "emo." Realizing I had created a monster, I became Courtney Love's drug runner. She needed someone in the highest levels of power to keep her out of a deserved jail sentence, so she sent me undercover to be a white house intern. While there i slept with Bill Clinton and made out with Monica Lewenski a few times- you know, just to say I did. After that I was unemployed, did heroin for a while, became a model, gave Hugh Grant a black eye... the usual. Finally, about four years ago, I figured I should go to college. And here I am now.

The End.

The last thing I wrote before this thing. The next thing I wrote after this.