2006-09-17 - 7:49 p.m.

I guess there were tire imprints in the clover. At least that's what the title says. Well no . . . I know it to be true from more than just a title. There were imprints. I caused them twice. Once for the sun and once for the moon. And while I enjoy the sun and its solar flare-ups as much as the next guy (if not more), I must say that I have recently thrown my hat in the moon's ring. Does this make any sense to you? It makes sense to me. And as I was careening down a twisty road towards maple syrup and apple trees and shielded my eyes from the rising sun, I again saw those tire imprints in the clover and my hungover brain suddenly fired quicker, my eyes refocused, my biceps involuntarily tightened, I ran my tongue over my teeth, plugged in the iPod and prepared myself for my journey home.

It's certainly been an interesting few weeks here in Tangie Town. I had one of the most amazing, light show mind-fuck, ridiculous cross-dressing weekends of my life one week ago. Friday in Bristol for Ryan & Beth's rehersal dinner/offerings to Dionysus. Did you kids know that Bristolites refer to Bristol as "the bricks"? You learn something somewhat new roughly every day. Oh the things that went down at B & R's wedding! It was only fitting that I polished off the wedding weekend with an absolutely eye-bleedingly intense-o-meter weird Flaming Lips show in Boston. But back to the wedding weekend in the town that, in the Census of 1978 - when they last polled this kind of data - ranked as the Incest Capitol of the COUNTRY: Bristol, NH. Which isn't to say that all the siblings I encountered while in "the bricks" were having sexual relations with each other . . . but it's not saying they weren't either! I can't even HOPE to try to recapture the insanity/phantasmagoria that was the wedding weekend (despite my repeated attempts to many friends to do so) so I shall just make a list of words that I think do a fairly accurate job of summing up the experience:

- p.b.r. Wine. high bar. j.p. huppah. plaster. spanking. more p.b.r. siblings. alias. rambaldi. banana stand. analrapist. j. walter weatherman. rape horn. new mother. hot ham water. burning shoes. kimonos. borderline skinny-dipping. cribs. bagel chips. meats & cheeses. more meats and cheeses. even more p.b.r. sweatshirts. xx chromosone make-out session. aunt Stripey using me as a patsy for her wine hi-jacking. grandmother molesting me for cocktail sauce (in the nicest way possible). text messaging. wet grass. baseball heroics too late. revealing my love for Daubach. again, bagel chips. again, crib. hungover. excruciating high bar shifting. table rolling. wet feet. urns in a wheelbarrow. short escape. change. internet meltdown. rite-aid. bop. last minute lyic quotes. gold crocs. rum to 'take the edge off'. huppah holding. ceremony. readings. breaking glass. photos. trapped in cottage with Groom and assorted during Ernesto Jr. debauchery. much food. more drink. even more drink. pashmina (a word I have never heard of before and now wish I never had). keg stands. kimono part II. sweatshirt? sweatshirt! loud voices. lap tops. sugar. cribbery w/ meghan and billy. beth realigning my spine. pass out. summoning will power. sweatshirt? pass out x 3. awkwardness - ne me pas, mais annemarie. centerpieces. mystery wolverine. departure from magic.

Yeah. It was that kind of weekend. And if you see me, ask me to describe the Flaming Lips concert to you in person, because I still don't think I can do it. But I am SO glad that I got the tickets for Peter and me. It was definietly a highlight concert experience for both of us. And the two of us have been to a LOT of concerts. It has cannons, confetti, santa, lizards, aliens, captain america, thor, balloons, lazers, birds, astronauts, skeletons, black sabbath covers. Yeah. It was that kind of weekend.

I feel bad for my new roommates. They must think I'm the most anti-social fuck in history. I'm never there. I think they're going to give my material possessions to the geckos. I couldn't blame them. I'm within a 2 minute run to the Woodman Park track. Which gives me way more ambition to get back on a good running regimen. And if I'm gonna fit in that nice silky kimono in time for the reunion that I best get running. But it's nice to have ambition again. For more than just running. Sometimes all it takes is a moonlit patch of clover.

It's been real,

Zill

Regarding my trip to Patrick's Friday Night with Monique, Hannah, Brian, & Rich - in which we met Rick, and later, Julie:

ps - Sometimes you need to have 5 over-turned shot glasses to realize you're in the presence of true friends.
pps - Sometimes someone else reading your face correctly when you've let your guard down can lead to a startling revelation.
ppps - Sometimes you fall into old habits when Jimmy James appears re: inter-office dating, but then remember Jimmy James thinks it's good for office productivity after all.
pppps - I don't know how you do it B. Harrison, but I owe you one large catfish I'll noodle myself when I come out to visit you cats in Oklahoma.
ppppps - My conniving con skills were re-affirmed when I look back on the fact that I managed to con about 19 cigarettes off people considering I don't even smoke.

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