weekend. I grabbed the bagel knife and jokingly perpetrated a stabbing. It's all hearty guffaws, now, but -I WARN YOU-watch it. Studies have shown that if you're a single woman over 30 who's been in over 1/2 a dozen weddings and somebody says that to you, there is a 90% probability that you will actually stab that person, regardless of how sweet and god-fearin' you may be. Well at present I am 2 &4/5 decades old and next June I will be in my 5th wedding. There's only so much longer you will be able to say that to me without sustaining (at least) a nasty scratch. So YUK IT UP NOW, CLOWNS!I think what my cronies here really wanted to know was how I fared in the infamous wedding shoes. They all knew it was more or less my inaugural run in 4" heels and I think were expecting me to hobble in on crutches. There may have been a secret office pool that I wasn't informed of...
So I was able to keep upright on my mega-heels and, considering the circumstances, it was a near-miraculous achievement. Edson Hill Manor (the site of the whole fete) is on these hills that overlook a grassy meadow. The ceremony was held in said grassy meadow. We were not starting our aisle procession in the meadow--aww hells no-- because Jill wanted to "make an entrance". Instead, we descended to the meadow via uneven, somewhat rickety stone steps that had been jammed into the steeeeeeep hillside. Y'know I wish I could convey the steepness of the hillside in another way than adding extra "e"s to the word "steep". Actually, I just recently bought myself a reference book of old timey Yankee dialect & sayings that I'd hoped would aide me in expressing myself more colorfully. But unfortunately that book doesn't have any "steep as..." sayings for me to employ in this instance. But I can say that for me to attempt those stairs in those shoes... well I was crazier'n a shithouse rat. Could be that that's exactly what makes me such a popular choice for a bridesmaid: willingness to suffer for fashion and perform feats of breathtaking audacity. So yeah, Jill was going to get her dramatic entrance, I was resolved. It was either going to be a spectacular series of bloody somersaults, or easing down the hillside at the pace of a centagenarian inchworm. Luckily for yours truly, it ended up being the latter approach. And after my stunt work was through, it was a great ceremony, and an all around beautiful day. It was unseasonably cool for August, and I was soooo thankful for that, because the last thing I wanna be doing when all eyes are on me like that is to be over-glistening. Ok, well maybe "all eyes on me " is overstating it a smidgeon...after all... there were some people that were pretty focused on the bride and groom. Which was truly awesome of those people since, surely they had to battle that phenomenal mojo that emanates from my person.
Jilly & Billiam depart today for sunny Curacao. Such a pisser about the latest air travel regs... what it essentially means is that the poor honeymooners are going to have to buy all their potions, lotions, and sexy oils when they get on the island. You just know you can get better deals on that stuff in the States. Doubtless we have more purveyors of randy accoutrements...more competition= naughty stuff cheap. Well, y'know I haven't actually read the regulations, it just may mean they have to check all their goopy /liquidy paraphenalia. Which is still a bit of a hindrance...it will disable them from using their potions, lotions, & sexy oils while on the plane. I hope that was not a major honeymoon objective and that they have a great trip....
But enough prattling on about g-damn honeymooners, after all, I try to write this blog from the embittered singleton's perspective (write what ya know, eh??)...
I feel a new kick coming on. I've been kind of intrigued,as of late, about the "beat generation"...reading up on Kerouac , Ginsberg, Neal Cassady and their subsequents like the Merry Pranksters of the 60s. I'll tell you how this came about...just to illustrate how these "kicks" originate with me. They are not manufactured or decided upon. The new obsession just alights on me by happenstance. Y'see I was on www.thefreedictionary.com trying to track down the etymology of the word "yammer" or expression "yammer on" because I use that word all the time (that site, by the way is super handy & informative...I use it daily) and for some reason, when I looked up yammer in the wikipedia part of the site, it redirected me to "Howl". Not the word "howl", but Allen Ginsberg's poem "Howl". And I got kind of caught up in the background info surrounding that poem, and started reading up on the beat entourage that Ginsberg palled around with. It's this whole rather intriguing counterculture that I've never really delved into before. I've read Kerouac's "On the Road" but that was years ago...I could do with a refresher. I'm going to get through the current book I'm reading ("Broken Trail" a remnant from my recent Westerns kick) and then revisit "On the Road", maybe read another Kerouac even. I don't know if I want to read any William S Burroughs ... I saw the film of "Naked Lunch" many many years ago but it still resonants with me how monumentally perplexing and bizarro that was...I fear that reading Burroughs would be even more of a wtf??? type of experience. I do wanna read "Howl" too... I could probably check that out now without it being too much of an interruption to my Western....
The only actual Beat writings I've read since the kick-off of the kick is Neal Cassady's Joan Anderson letter
(read it here: http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Workshop/5083/letter3.html)
I found Cassady interesting because he didn't really publish anything or publicly contribute to the "movement", he was just this background figure in the crew that everybody seemed to find integral-- Kerouac based 2 of his novel protagonists on him, and Ginsberg was in love with him! Also, some late 90s movie "The Last Time I Committed Suicide" was based on this letter. So, from that fact I figured-- a whole feature film based on a letter! Must be some letter! And so I had to read it. What I wanted to find out after reading it, and what I've not been able to find out in all my perfunctory Beat research is--what became of Joan Anderson? I hope she did not make another--a successful-- suicide attempt.Another thing that makes my new Beat kick appeal to me-- Jack Kerouac was pretty foxy. You'd think that would be a total non-factor, what with him being dead for nearly 40 years. But he wouldn't be the first dead guy I've developed a weird retroactive crush on. Check out JK's pic here: http://encyclopedia.thefreedictionary.com/Jack+Kerouac Maybe that's an artfully done book jacket shot, but hubba-hubba! nonetheless. Don't bother checking up on Ginsberg-- he was nothin' to write home about. Eh, he was gay anyways...
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