Actuate Signal

Turn it up a notch. Fire in the hole. Set up for a wedding reception, 150 people, in a room large enough for 100, just do it. And the menu? Barbecued ribs, slaw, cheese potatoes, nuts and candies, spiked punch, in an over-crowded room? I believe we're looking at a world-class mess. Ground nuts in the grout joints, sauce and spilled punch everywhere, bone middens in the corners. But you only get married once or twice, so pull out the stops. I had taken some notes, during the day, some things to think about, but I can't read them. This thing about seeing more clearly, without my glasses, has me leaving them everywhere. My handwriting has become a scrawl. The bride's helpers don't show, so I assist with table decorations, filling the nut-cups, arraigning fake flowers; as the day progresses she gets closer and closer to the edge, getting married tomorrow, overwhelmed. -Listen- I tell her, -it's not that big a deal and it probably won't last- she throws a peanut at me. -You can throw a peanut at me, but the statistics don't lie- she throws another nut, but at least she's smiling, we finish the tables. She's an attractive lady but wears too much make-up, I don't tell her that. Stage make-up on the street looks like a mask, you can see the edges. I ask about her dress, always a good question for the bride-to-be, and what perfume she'll be wearing, she looks at me strangely, as though I were an alien. I explain my theatrical background, costumes and such, a certain knowledge of style (her Mom has arrived to help, has me pegged as the custodian, which is not untrue) and she thinks I'm probably gay, because I ask about the dress and the scent. I'm just trying to defuse her panic attack, I don't care what she thinks of me, I'll never see her again, and what she thinks of me, or the questions I ask, are of no import. Some of her friends arrive, already after closing, and I agree to stay a bit longer, while they sort out details. I'm just the custodian, what kind of life could I have? Return to my hovel and abuse animals? Drive out on a rural road and shoot mail-boxes? The geese have arrived, they cluster in great numbers at the lake, and if the winter isn't too bad they stay, if it is, they go further south, they shit profusely and the grass becomes slick, they honk and waddle, they amuse me. They truly announce the change of seasons, look to your woodpile, look to your larder, the times, as Robert says, are changing. I slept on the sofa last night, so the sun would wake me first thing, and I was already late. Still, first frost will be the end to bugs, and I really don't mind walking up the driveway, at least the snakes will be gone and I might see the fox, and unexpected guests are cut from nothing to less than nothing, good odds, if you look at things statistically, and you want to be alone. Consider the crows squawking, it sounds like meaning, brother can you spare a dime? Boz Skaggs, that first album, Dwane Allman on lead guitar, lord have mercy. As good as it gets.