Confessions of a Fuck-Up Artist
Apr. 22nd, 2013 03:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonDark suit. Italian shoes. Windsor knot. Dressed to impress for the Discordian wedding down in Goat Country. Arrived with the Magpie who dressed precisely the way Harpo Marx would dress for a wedding if Harpo Marx was a Time Lord. We arrived amongst a carnival of busy gowns and suits, to live bluegrass jazz across a spacious brick warehouse and sunlight filtering through the broken glass of a 19th century munitions factory across the gravel driveway. We arrived to iron armadas of freight trains rumbling a stone's throw away. We arrived to a series of midway games assembled in the brick banquet hall - a high striker, a ring toss, a Nerf shooting gallery and beanbag toss. We arrived to the delectable scent of the low country boil buffet being prepared and tables set with individual LPs with our names written in ribbons around them. We arrived to Irish whiskey and Kentucky bourbon waiting for us as if we were lately arrived dates.
The crowd filtered in slow but steady, everybody in their April Sunday best. Teddy Bear and Mama Bear. Alien Joy and Such Gor. The Contact and Oz and the Oz Clan. Double Dee and the Happy Cook. Mister and Mrs. Vespa Diablo. The Villain Family and the family of the Villain Family. So many others I've forgotten to name. So many more, all gathered for the ceremony of the Bride and Groom, held with equal parts Sci-Fi invocations and heart-touching oaths to one another.
Later, once dusk settled into a crisp early spring evening, we launched a fleet of white paper candle balloons out across the quiet night.
Much later I sat down by the tracks while the room danced, alone but for the bourbon, I watched one of the trains round the corner. A mournful wail resounded from it's shadow, where blazed the single eye of its light. As it chugged across the tracks with iron and wisdom, it wheels hammered out a cadence that to the drunken ear sang - "We will/Re-Mem-Ber you/Yes we will" over and over and over again until when it finally passed, vanishing round the bend towards the skyline until even its cadence was drowned out by the collective laughter behind me.
The crowd filtered in slow but steady, everybody in their April Sunday best. Teddy Bear and Mama Bear. Alien Joy and Such Gor. The Contact and Oz and the Oz Clan. Double Dee and the Happy Cook. Mister and Mrs. Vespa Diablo. The Villain Family and the family of the Villain Family. So many others I've forgotten to name. So many more, all gathered for the ceremony of the Bride and Groom, held with equal parts Sci-Fi invocations and heart-touching oaths to one another.
Later, once dusk settled into a crisp early spring evening, we launched a fleet of white paper candle balloons out across the quiet night.
Much later I sat down by the tracks while the room danced, alone but for the bourbon, I watched one of the trains round the corner. A mournful wail resounded from it's shadow, where blazed the single eye of its light. As it chugged across the tracks with iron and wisdom, it wheels hammered out a cadence that to the drunken ear sang - "We will/Re-Mem-Ber you/Yes we will" over and over and over again until when it finally passed, vanishing round the bend towards the skyline until even its cadence was drowned out by the collective laughter behind me.