Friday, November 28, 2008
In Which Dirty Mouths say Pretty Things
In case you are wondering what happened for the rest of the day, I will tell you. The cats finished off their race lickety-split and I got vacuum sucked in the wave underwater a few times, flushed out eventually and was mad-happy with myself. We got undressed then dressed again and headed off to the road kill kafa, where April gave us an earful. She told us a lot more about Trish and her family and it sounded like a modern day southern crazy style Hamlet or King Lear, with family members and murders all over the place. She told us a lot of things ain't fit to write, and we all marched out of that place pretty certain we'd be dead by morning, if not from the food than from the bad luck of the place.
We headed down to the Rendez-vous and tripped in front of the fire with a bunch of other cats from the river. There must have been about 200 cats. And a lot of locals, too. Thankfully for Old Man River, Trish never did show up and he lived to die another day. It was a sweet southern night. There was a big bonfire and fireworks popping off and the entertainment kept switching: bluegrass, solo singers, belly dancers (we gravitated towards the stage similar to ocean::moon) something else. Source being projected next to the stage, Tyler running The Big Drop. We should have been drinking whiskey but we weren't. I was chewing on a glowstick, a poor idea by all accounts.
It was a nice night but it is too bad that Old Man River did not get to have The Trish. I am keeping a jelly jar of moonshine as a memory.