A Non-chemical Wedding

the groom is on valium

Wednesday March 8, 2000

Whoa, oh gentle, light in the loafers, soft as a baby’s butt, reader. Tomorrow Sri Gwee Doh gets all hitched up, ties the knot, enters the holy state of matrimony as practiced in this Hellenistic culture. (It is Hellen Earth). We (Athena and I) have spent the last coppola weeks shuffling around, preparing for a wedding. Since neither of us indulges in recreational substances, it will not be a Chemical Wedding (arcane alchemical in joke. yuk yuk yuk. I slay me. Pass the Rosenkreuz, Christian). Then, of course, I must leave this apartment next week, then Agamemnon is off to Venezuela. Oh, what a butterfly life we lead! When I finally move, after we get all of this wedding stuff behind us, I will move my computador and there we go, I will be up pecking away. Then, before long there will be a little fetus creature screaming away into the night who will keep me up and wanting to chat online. Maybe the sound of the rattling keys as I peck away at lightning speed will keep him up. Tough. He’s gonna be a computer boy if he is to make it in the 21st century. He will be a fucking genius. He has to be smarter than dear old dad if this is possible. My humility about my own brilliance has always been one of the main ingredients in my killer charm and charisma. The absolute awe-inspiring magnitude of my genius staggers even me, the owner of this magnificent brain. Thus, my spawn must be Leonardo fucking Da Vinci. He must amaze the world and then tell them about his neglected genius father. The opera ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings. I see no overweight females on the horizon, and certainly none with a song in their heart.

So, here I am in in these last days at this quasi-mausoleum apartment of mine.Whatever else comes to pass, I don’t think I will regret leaving this place. There has been little joy here, to put it mildly. The place still resonates with a tangible melancholy. It scares people off, no joke. The one bright spot in this place has been here in my computer suite. Here I have reached out and touched many someones. Oh woe is not necessarily me, oh, what a kick in the butt life is. How in the 12 nested universes could I have ever painted this picture of Sri Gwee Doh in the 21st century, even one short year ago? Now the trauma of transition is once again upon us, all of the little Gwee Doh beings boiling around in my heart and mind, we must move we must continue putting one foot in front of the other one day at a time, 12 steps forward, 12 steps back. Twelve-steppin’ out with my baby…and yet and yet and yet. As always I sit back and wonder “What de hell you be up to, Big Juju? Whut choo gots in mind fer yer workin’ boy now, lawdy lawd?” (In case you don’t know, “Big JuJu” is a name invented by the science fiction writer Larry Niven for God. I find it apt more often than not.) Of course, Big Juju moves in a mysterious way, he do a complex tango boogaloo funky chicken step ain’t no one can imitate, cause we know he’s the king of the cooOOOL JERK!!!! Whoo…praise HIM!/HER/IT!! 

Then, lately I have been biting my tongue speaking with greek orthodox priests who no way were gonna sit and listen to my Sufi rap about God is the friend of friends, closer than our own heartbeat, no, sir. God comes to his people via his chosen messengers, the priests of JAYSUS, bearded old goats with constipated dogma up they butts. Be quiet, Sri Gwee Doh, Christianity is as valid as any other path to the light. Oh, dat Gwee Doh do go on, dancin’ ’round the subject like a big old sombrero set up in the middle of the room. It happens as it happens. What what what? 

I have come to the conclusion that the basic questions of Journalism 101 are the basic questions of life. who what when where why are we? Of these, I think the toughest is not ‘What?” or even “Why?” But “Where?” Where is “here” when is ‘now’? Of course the answer is obvious, Little Richard and Keats said it all in their one and only collaboration CD, “Romanticism and Collard Greens, Biscuits and Gravy”
“womp bop a lu bop a womp bam boom” That is all ye know, and all ye need know.

Author: Blaine L. Reininger

Blaine L. Reininger was born July 10, 1953 in Pueblo, Colorado. Then he lived a life. By and by, he founded Tuxedomoon with Steven Brown in 1977. He traipsed around America, tuxedomooning until 1980, when he began to traipse around Europe. As a direct result of all of this traipsing, many musical compositions were composed, most of which found their way to some sort of mechanical device capable of reproducing musical compositions. This was mostly for the good. He now lives in Athens, Greece, where he is content.

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