So That Happened

Some moments you feel utterly wrecked and confused, while other moments you feel nothing.  Some moments you're so angry you can't speak because you will unleash a fury on an innocent, while other moments you feel only slight loss.  Most moments you just wonder what the fuck to do now.

To George and Susan on Their Wedding Day

This is not the toast I gave, but the toast I wrote before I was convinced that this toast was better absorbed through the eyeballs than the auditory nerve.  The actual toast I gave will follow on a later date.  Following that, I may give a lecture on how to give toasts, depending on how these two posts are received.*

"There's been a lot of talk about the definition of marriage lately. *Pause for laughter*  People have argued this til the boring end, and yet I do not stand here to speak about the definition of marriage.  I wonder about the meaning of marriage.  What does it mean for two people to stand in front of their friends and family and declare that they will be married.  What does it mean in this world, in this time, for two people to be married?

We hear no end of suffering, we see no end to bloodshed, we see no peace among the disparate groups of humans on this planet.  Misery seeps through our lives, infecting every aspect.  Cynicism rots our core until we can no longer raise a hand in aid of another.  What does it matter that two people wish to join their lives, to entwine their fates, in the face of such utter hopelessness, despair, and cynicism?  What can we do as witnesses, but bear the silent burden?

Bear with me, folks, this does lead to a point. * Pause for nervous laughter.*

When two people stand up to be married, they are defying the naysayers, the broken ones, and the fearmongers.  Two people who love each other enough to stand in front of those they value most in the world to say "I love you, and will hold your heart above all else in this world" are expressing defiance.  Defiance in the face of despair, hope in the face of suffering, and romance in the depths of cynicism.

Marriage is the ultimate rebellion.  Marriage is punk rock.  Marriage is a middle finger held up to an uncaring universe.  Marriage is a defiance of the unending wave of terror that floods our lives from all directions.  Marriage is a beacon of warmth, love, hope, and romance in a threatening world, and we witnesses will always be ready to remind you of this day.  This day when you stood in front of all the people who matter to you and said, "I love you, and take thee to be my partner in all things."

* Received has always looked like a misspelled word to me.

16

On Monday, I am mailing 16 inches of my hair to a charity organization. It took me two years, one month, and four days to grow. I am desperately hoping that the organization finds it suitable for their purpose. If they don't, I will be sorely disappointed. There was so much effort put into growing all that hair. It's so hard to not get your hair cut for years, and all that brushing.

There's a woman who asked me to hold too much for her tonight. I doubt she even understands why I am not* hurt by her attempts to wound. Some people just have to lash out, but that doesn't mean anyone has to sit around for it.

I am now walking home along the borders of a small national park. I hear the hissing of condominium ventilation systems, and the hooting of owls, and I can not choose between. The vents slither and steam, while the birds swoop and chirp. I am not sure if that's the right word.

* I somehow skipped this rather important modify when writing this post. Never hit send without proofreading. Or while walking.

Where I Write These Days

Sitting on the rocks by the babbling sewage and road runoff rivulet behind my apartment. Canal Road and the Canal are below me and the sun is warm. The burble babble of the poisoned water drowns out most of the traffic noise, and the smell is tolerable most days. The sunlight glitters and gleams on the fouled falling water, uncaring of our damage or danger. That orb will bear silent witness far longer than our life, our love, and our crime.

So Tuesday Was Bullshit Day, I Guess

I attended a memorial tea party for my father's pal and former roommate. The stories are a little muddled but they may have gone to law school together and they apparently got in more than one bar brawl during this period in their lives. My experiences with this man and my father make me extremely incredulous, but my father's reaction to our questions about the "St. Patrick's Day Massacre" was far too honest for it to be anything but true.

Regardless, I almost came close to being a little choked up listening to the stories and remembrances that people told about the gentleman deceased. So maybe I was totally off my rocker the other day. Maybe I do have a heart somewhere underneath, but I think it is just malfunctioning firmware.