ass backwards

Like any normal backwards day, I sampled cakes as the step-in bride-to-be seeing as she's got a myriad of allergies & can't enjoy sweet supple milky things. Her fiance & I sampled coconut creme & almond cakes with fondits and no-fillers. After all the work, a sketch drawn, little pearls around the base & weight estimations, it's a Let's-not. Then we're driving all around & Let's take the scenic route - it's longer, but it's worth it. Isn't that a lasting sentence? She's impatient, doesn't care about the trees. We flip around & do what's easiest, the fastest way forward. We move forward. Another time, perhaps, there'll be a right time to waste time. He says, Weddings are a hard time for the broken heart; that's an ass backwards situation for you to be in. I say, I don't mind, I find great strength in supporting Love, and besides, I got to eat cake for breakfast.

I'm sitting in a bar. Actually, I just walk into a bar and am stopped & held still standing by a woman who right away wants to talk to me about the healing natures of Kauai. She's smoking something in the bar which doesn't make sense but it's legal it's legal & it's from Kauai. With my purple pucker, I'm breathing in some wack hawaiian fantasy shit from a strangers stick & have to laugh - where am I?
I'm sitting in a bar & she invites me to a mad hatter tea party. Somehow this doesn't add to the strangeness. However, it's a Yes, please.
I'm sitting in a bar & she says, Please try this, everyone in the bar is on it. She pulls out a bag of moss & it's Kava & I say, No, But, Yes. A woman in a black dress is changing the entire aura of a whiskey bar with smoke and moss. We are all temporarily numb & sociable & relaxed. Where am I? Oh yes, drawing people into my life. This voodoo woman was sent from Hawaii itself.

I'm sipping the most amazing cocktail, created by the owner: a white port with a lot of ice, splash of bubbles & muddled lime. It's a winer's margarita & it's magic. I'm sipping it & another woman tells me it sounds like I need to go on a walkabout. I'm all like, Explain please. Walkabout: A rite of passage meant for the australian aborigines, get lost for a while, discover what it is you're meant for. Uh, yes. For the first time, I don't drop my repeat of, But wouldn't that be so much more to experience it with someone else? Despite my refrain, she says, Some newly married couples do it together as their honeymoon, because if they could get through that then they could get through anything. I don't know...people forget pain.

I'm home with a bowl of ice cream and chocolate syrup. Cake for breakfast, ice cream for dinner. It's Thursday, the weirdest day of my life, filled with feminine energy, experiments, dysfunctional love & the lasting words of my cousin: Your boobs look great in that dress.