oy. school is mind-numbing.

dear canyon, grand

The desert boasts
some kind of silent rhythm
"yes, i do"
my hair and eyes say to the wind and
when it gusts
i give up
some kind of belly-howl
an ache of adoration
a hollowness filled
with only wind.

Double Happiness

Went to Evelyn and Nick's wedding last night. What a surprisingly beautiful day it turned out to be. Everyone packed into plastic folding chairs, just warm enough to still don sundresses. Sun streaming through the courtyard. Wildflowers hang in glass ball jars. Super awesome crunchy farm feel to the whole scene. Everyone tattooed, beardy, suspender-clad. Good job dudes, your friends are a weird bunch.

Ana presided over the wedding. I gotta say, this is the closest thing I have done to church in a long time. And if Ana was the priest at any church, i would seriously fucking not miss a mass. She is unnecessarily emphatic and cried more than once. She did manage to sneak some bible stuff in there, but it turned out to be a riot. We can all thank our lucky stars we didn't get, "Love is patient, love is kind". Rather, we heard, "Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor". HAH. This is the most terrifically dry and wonderful thing to say about a couple. Hey, two 'a yous guys can dig a hole faster than one of yous guys. Superb! The only biblical wedding verse I will ever tolerate from this day forward.

I have always measured the success of a wedding by how many times I cringe for the bride and groom. "Eeeks. Sorry, your uncle is the weirdest sweatiest and most long-winded fellow in the world. That speech really destroyed the mood". Perhaps, "Your Uncle Linda is a real nice lady, but she sure made a fool of herself on the dance floor". Someone falls down on the way to the alter. Any combination physical foibles. The funky chicken. And of course, the possibility of a sweaty, three hour, pray to the virgin mary, catholic pain festival. None of that.

We danced to soul until the cops booted us out. I am quite sure I saw several men lift other men into the air in jubilation. Evie was the most zen-mellow bride i have ever seen. Carefree as the wind, dancing and comfortably moving between friends and family. As my sister so astutely recognized, it's a difficult balance to be hip enough for your friends and traditional enough for your family. Way to go, Ebert, you nailed it.

After the reception, we headed to the appropriately titled, Double Happiness across the street. Where i watched everyone get drunk. Things devolved into a slew of dares involving putting your balls on statues around town. I had to get out of there. But not before listening to several, "How i met nick" stories.

"I was having pizza at adriaticos years ago. After everyone had finished and people were getting cash together, we looked around and nick was gone. There was a fifty dollar bill on the table. THAT ASSHOLE!" Yeah, that guy's the worst. He wouldn't let you pay your own phone bill. What a freakin gem.

I part ways with the bride, chain grease all over her white satin dress and the groom, flat cap and grin, hugs so big i thought i'd cry a third time. Holy shit, guys. you got married.

Sounds of Silence

Home again, home again, jiggity jig. Now what? Jesus.

I am Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate. I am sunk like a stone in the bottom of the pool in total isolation. Cue the Simon and Garfunkle. Everyone is wondering when I am going to get out, dry off, and start acting like a person again.

Something huge happens and you have no where to put it. After diligently keeping a civil war general's log of everything that happened this summer, people expect for me to sum it up with some succinct answer about the general order of things.

Hey, remember that time you went to France with your high school French class? Well, when you got back no one asked you, 'What's the meaning of life'. Right?

I don't know exactly why I am so sensitive about this. Maybe I have imaginary audience. Or maybe it's my mother on an hour long phone call trying to figure out why I haven't called in two weeks. Either way, it's giving me ants of the pants.

My Dad said to me as the trip was coming to a close, "Jeez, Lauren. I'm not sure if the end of this is going to send you into a spiraling depression or energize you." Thanks, Pops. I'm not sure either. I have all the energy of a caffeinated toddler but not a single place to channel it. So I spin on my floor like Homer Simpson and listen to the Flotation Walls. It can't be healthy.

But I don't feel like drinking. I don't feel like attending parties. I don't feel like going to the bar. I missed everyone a whole bunch. But seeing people just makes me feel further away. I feel like I am communicating absolutely nothing when I make small talk. I am fully aware that this is the lament of any person in their late twenties who is not married. I aint sayin' my sadness is unique. I'm just sayin' I got it.

So, until I figure out the meaning of life, I'm just going to wander around Bexley at night, clumsily navigating potholes in the road on my Tomasso. Text me if you get some ideas.