Your man Wedsworth
So the Brides' friend herself became a bride this weekend, and we were invited to the littlest state in the union. It's a strange place.
Everyone there drives like the assholes in VT, but there are so many more of them. Every other car with a dent in the side of the rear from parking two feet from the curb, and the rest dented in the front from parking against traffic, without, needless to say, signalling their intention. Rless sons of bitches.
The wedding itself was mercifully short, but the organist's warmings up left a hard act to follow. This was in the oldest holy roman catholic and apostolic church in the state, all fresh-refurbished with shinybusy stainedglass- behind the altar was the standard crossifiance, but with what looked to be a volcano erupting in the City of Angels or something such. Anyway, the organist- whose piece took up probably 30 sqft- started off, a halfhour early, with some typically slow and brooding piece befitting the occasion. But then. And then.
Remember the aliensong from Close Encounters? I do, and all the fresher now. Eventually, as he plaid, the dearly beloved gathered there that day started exchanging browslanty looks. As usual, the tardile vulgus was way behind my lead, my elbow-clutching giggle-stifling advanced reaction. The music symbolized, I reasoned, the otherworldly descent of God's blessing spirit of fecundity on these two of his children, and also that God prefers simple tones overlaying- or should I say underlain by- writhing arabesque weirdness. And lo! the LORD did hear, and He was pleased, and also didst He fire up His Holy Bong of Awesome. I only wish I'd thought in advance to do the same.
Stained glasshattering highs and pewrumbling lows. The brides speculated that such rockery was the first meaning of 'pulling out all the stops.' That was awesome. Eventually, though, like all trips, it had to end and a brief bit of Pachelbel's beloved Kanon in D with a quick (but slick) segue to the wedding march, and that's the day the music died.
And then wine while we waited to eat, and then wine while we ate, and then wine while we waited for the wine to run out. And then it was two-thirty and I thinkt, I'm drunk at 230, and then the wine did run out, and then napping. Alarm set for six, but it seems not to've gone off. The brides woke me at 648, saying, Look at the clock, look at what time it is. I was surprised.
She went about her refreshening, dazed, and then mused, I can't believe we slept all night! I said, We didn't. It was still the same night, not. It was funny.
We went to a thing, something like a gargantuan mall. On its sixth floor was an even more gargantuan ...place. It was as if Chuck E. Cheese collided with a casino at such a speed that not only were the animatrons and strippers thrown out, but a hole was torn in space- in the space six mall-storeys above Rhode Island. I swear to God, that place was bigger than the state that contained it. Earl and Bangers? Bucky and Mashed? Some two guys. Video games (among which exactly TWO had joysticks) and flashing lights, fake gambling and skeeball, every coin-op entertainment imaginable- paradoxically, they were all NWO paycard operated- stretching off into the horizon. And a cloying gauze of unreality pervading throughout. It was a fitting end to a day that started with a musical prophet rending asunder the upper firmament to let flow the holy low-pH waters of the Lord.
Everyone there drives like the assholes in VT, but there are so many more of them. Every other car with a dent in the side of the rear from parking two feet from the curb, and the rest dented in the front from parking against traffic, without, needless to say, signalling their intention. Rless sons of bitches.
The wedding itself was mercifully short, but the organist's warmings up left a hard act to follow. This was in the oldest holy roman catholic and apostolic church in the state, all fresh-refurbished with shinybusy stainedglass- behind the altar was the standard crossifiance, but with what looked to be a volcano erupting in the City of Angels or something such. Anyway, the organist- whose piece took up probably 30 sqft- started off, a halfhour early, with some typically slow and brooding piece befitting the occasion. But then. And then.
Remember the aliensong from Close Encounters? I do, and all the fresher now. Eventually, as he plaid, the dearly beloved gathered there that day started exchanging browslanty looks. As usual, the tardile vulgus was way behind my lead, my elbow-clutching giggle-stifling advanced reaction. The music symbolized, I reasoned, the otherworldly descent of God's blessing spirit of fecundity on these two of his children, and also that God prefers simple tones overlaying- or should I say underlain by- writhing arabesque weirdness. And lo! the LORD did hear, and He was pleased, and also didst He fire up His Holy Bong of Awesome. I only wish I'd thought in advance to do the same.
Stained glasshattering highs and pewrumbling lows. The brides speculated that such rockery was the first meaning of 'pulling out all the stops.' That was awesome. Eventually, though, like all trips, it had to end and a brief bit of Pachelbel's beloved Kanon in D with a quick (but slick) segue to the wedding march, and that's the day the music died.
And then wine while we waited to eat, and then wine while we ate, and then wine while we waited for the wine to run out. And then it was two-thirty and I thinkt, I'm drunk at 230, and then the wine did run out, and then napping. Alarm set for six, but it seems not to've gone off. The brides woke me at 648, saying, Look at the clock, look at what time it is. I was surprised.
She went about her refreshening, dazed, and then mused, I can't believe we slept all night! I said, We didn't. It was still the same night, not. It was funny.
We went to a thing, something like a gargantuan mall. On its sixth floor was an even more gargantuan ...place. It was as if Chuck E. Cheese collided with a casino at such a speed that not only were the animatrons and strippers thrown out, but a hole was torn in space- in the space six mall-storeys above Rhode Island. I swear to God, that place was bigger than the state that contained it. Earl and Bangers? Bucky and Mashed? Some two guys. Video games (among which exactly TWO had joysticks) and flashing lights, fake gambling and skeeball, every coin-op entertainment imaginable- paradoxically, they were all NWO paycard operated- stretching off into the horizon. And a cloying gauze of unreality pervading throughout. It was a fitting end to a day that started with a musical prophet rending asunder the upper firmament to let flow the holy low-pH waters of the Lord.
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