Sinister: Reporting Back: An Unfortunate Event

[Jay Eckard]

Reel Around Easley, or
   Fifteen Minutes with Llew
      (I wouldn't say no).

I thought that since nobody else had, I would report on the circumstances 
surrounding An Unfortunate Event on Sunday. It was a veritable Southern 
Sinister Massive.
Before I arrived in Easley, I wandered around upland South Carolina for 
several hours. It was an eerie combination of Adult retail outlets (read: 
porno porno porno), fireworks stands, bible outlets, and peaches (a giant 
peach dammit, 50 feet tall, dominated the skyline, mooning everybody as it 
was shaped like a huge, 50-ft ass). On the radio: sermons and hymns. It was 
Sunday, and all the churches were broadcasting. The crazy churches, with 
foaming-mouthed members who hate the unlike. I was shocked to learn I 
(personally) was at the forefront of the demoralization of America. I 
probably have multiple social diseases (eek), kill children, read and 
distribute porn to the pious and have several addictions to marijuana. Gosh. 
I guess I'm busy.
Into this semi-narcotized landscape I rolled --er, drove, looking for Llew 
and her fest. Since I can't follow directions, I arrived a bit late to find 
everyone else there: the Llew, Jayward, Kirk and the Boy G.
Oh yes -- it was his birthday. There was cake, Red Velvet cake, colored 
water of various shades. Orange was the only color postively identified 
(peach). Donuts also appreared.
Actually, for the brave there was home brew Parsley Soda, made from Parsley 
syrup and club soda. The consensus was that the Soda was not as foul as 
would seem. Much like the guy who brought it.
What followed refreshment was conversation not seen since the Algonquin 
Circle last met. Oh yes: anecdotes were traded, quips were made, 
scintillation of language occured. Laura, of course, in fashion closely 
mirroring Ms Parker, outshone us all in language and beauty.
  And there was music: Ken Chu seranaded us with Moon River, amongst 23 
other crooners. On CD, of course. The Smiths was avoided. Sadly.
  It being in a book shop, fine literature was discussed. The Boy found that 
great work, "The Guide to Gettin' It On" and was quite fascinated by it. 
Especially the bizarrely graphic illustrations. We all now know how to... 
well, Get It On, obviously. Though not with each other. Thankfully, the 
Guide told us the illustrations weren't quite like real life. (and let's 
face it... six inches is *quite* big, right?)
  At the height of the event, twee-ness was even reached. (twee-osity, 
twee-ment? I dunno.) I know: G said. "Why are we sitting around here, twee 
as fuck, when we could be drinking wine?" he said.
  Fortunately, we were all far too twee for that. The wine was unopened. 
Thank god, I thought, for personal reasons.
  Alas, it was far too good to last. After 6 or 7 hours and the distribution 
of vinyl gifts, we all broke up and slogged off to home. I had a 
particularly (peculiarly) good experience at Waffle House in Bessemer City 
-- whatever that is -- at 2 am.
  And they all lived happily ever after. Presumably.

Jay




--
"The Posby falls into a Trance
In which it does a little Dance."
                     Edward Gorey


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