Wedding Blues

No one got the memo about glitter. Glitter is my enemy. I hate glitter. I despise the very glint of glitter. In my version of hell naked people are dipped in corn syrup and covered with glitter. Wedding reception for 160, which requires tables and chairs in every gallery and I'm as paranoid as a box turtle crossing the road. Because everything is so close and most of the work is breakable 3D art. We're insured, but we probably don't charge enough for these functions. It takes a day and a half of my time, setting up, and I have to clean the mess after. Fucking lasagne for 160. 68 people eating on carpeted floor. What are the odds. Not wether but how many. I proposed a show to Sara and she liked the idea, I'd like to do some shows, while D is away, fill that winter gap when he'll be in school and Sara down south. It's easy for me to imagine shows because I've imagined so many houses. I was thirty before I realized I visualized things with a much more critical eye than most people. I remember the incident, it was that day Fritz set his coat on fire with a smoldering pipe. I establish a good relationship with the bride and especially her parents, they, and a fleet of friends, decorate, lord love a duck, it's all pink and neon green. No liquor, there's a candy bar, and the theme is candy, because they are gathering in holy matrimony because they share a passion for candy. I'm making none of this up, I'm on my good behavior, the world is too good to be true. To true to be good. I'm speechless and assume the role of gofer, provide power where necessary. I know the circuits and plug the outlets historical. Remove the foam-core from against the warming closet lest it melt or flame. I need to do laundry but if I wash some socks by hand I don't need to go back to town before Tuesday. Marriage is a simple legal agreement, requires a Justice Of The Peace and a witness; my second marriage cost almost 50 bucks because we bought a decent champagne. They put out vats of candy and dishes of nuts. I spend most of the afternoon making sure every table is equally nutted. I have a stick I use, to determine the depth, but I constantly re-mark and eat nuts. The Tom Variable. As I use nature as my model, I'm listening to a Rufus-sided Towhee, and he's awful, I could sing that better than him, fucking juvenile. But I'm stuck with what I get.