Years go by so quickly when you are heavily relying on medication. I have to admit that I enjoyed the day of « la douleur qui ne me quitte pas pour le reste de ma vie », to quote some late Hollywood friend of mine. I repeated to myself all day long “quick send in the clowns…there ought to be clowns”. So far, they sent a morning erection, half a klonopin, many high-carb cakes and a bloody marry at lunchtime. I also registered for the Word of the Day on Dictionary.com and stayed oblivious to the various bloodbaths in the neighboring states. However, all I really wanted was for my son to call me and say that he forgave me for abandoning him when he was just a toddler. No, just kidding, I do not give a damn about him, my friends sent me kind hopeful little messages and endearing phone calls.
I still have to make some wishes. May the year to come be way more tumultuous than the previous and FHC become more courageous, deep and unconventional than he was in his youth, which is somewhat gracefully ending today (I have stretch marks on my ass). Wo sind die Clowns? Schickt die Clowns herein!