“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard

Friday, June 27, 2003

Anyways, here’s why I haven’t posted in a few days. I went to my friend (Name Withheld By Request) wedding. All in all, I suppose it could have been a stranger affair. Not that I was expecting it to be normal by any stretch of the imagination, after all, I can honestly say that a fair portion of my wildest moments have been spent in her presence. Given this, I turned my wheels toward the general Columbus Ohio area, Granville, to be precise, with a mixture of joyous anticipation and grave apprehension. The exact same mixture of feelings, come to think of it, that comes with every encounter with her. I’m not trying to give the impression that she’s a bad person. It’s just that when she’s around, well, things HAPPEN. Good things, bad things, strange things. You know THINGS.

Anyway, back to the wedding thing. I almost didn’t make it as I was almost in the hospital (yet again), long story, but after securing transportation and funds I set out and was almost thwarted at the zero hour by a sinister force in the universe known as Mapquest.com. One of these days I may be able to adequately express my feelings about Mapquest, but I’d like to get my legal affairs in order first.

So I get in right at the beginning. They’re both at the front of the room already with the priest. At this point it should be mentioned that the room in question was a part of the Granville Inn which is a fairly accurate representation of an English hall and it is in fact on the national registry of historical places. This was a nice touch, I felt. In fact, it was so nice that it momentarily distracted me from the minister, who was dressed in traditional Native American garb. This too was a nice touch I thought; though the juxtaposition was rather odd. Still, I expected no less from (Name Withheld).

Now, I never had any reason to suspect that (Name Withheld) didn’t know any Asian people. I, in fact, had never thought of her and Asians at the same time save for that time she walked on my back, so I was a bit surprised to notice the table full of them sitting across from me. It was at that time that the Native American ceremony came to the traditional exchanging of food. The man gives the woman a piece of meat, as the men were the traditional hunters (not for the reason you’re thinking you sick depraved maggots) and the woman gives the man a piece of bread, as the women ground grain and prepared food. They were given little bags containing hawk’s feathers to represent something or other. I seem to have missed the point of them as I had at that moment noticed the bagpipe players. I guess at this point I should have been beyond surprise, but it could be argued that since the groom’s name was Scottish then I should have EXPECTED bagpipes. To this I say one should never be expected to count on the presence of bagpipers. I can’t comment upon their performance as I guess I missed that part. Fuckin’ Mapquest. So after the exchange of vows the couple had written themselves they all walked down the aisle: the Bride and Groom, the Indian and the bagpipers and I spent the rest of the time with her brother Mike and his girlfriend Bradley drinking every time someone called (Name Withheld) ("Name Withheld"). It’s a long story.

All in all it was a nice, and unusually diverse, ceremony, where I met several cool people and it didn’t drag on like the Catholic weddings that I’m used to attending. Not to mention the fact that I made $20 when they got all the way to the altar. (Just kidding, guys!)

So congratulations (Name Withheld) and (Name Withheld). Good luck, and may the best of your past be the worst of your future and crap like that.

PS: I really did make $20 when she showed up wearing white. (No, seriously.)

So for now, I’m Ford W. Maverick, and I’ll see you in hell.

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