Florida Not Wedding Part 2 and Then Some

"Truckie" parked at the Steven's compound

Within a half hour of being off the plane I was in a reggae bar in downtown Lake Worth smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer, already addressing affairs of the heart and persistent battles with this planet doom also known as Earth, with my good buddy Sue. Shortly after in the tender mugginess of a South Florida night she had me sitting on a curb, slightly tipsy, eating a crazy hot dog concoction.  I was deeply satisfied and was sure I could just get back on the plane and the ticket was already worth the price.

The next afternoon I was headed out to Fish Eating Creek where the not wedding was going down, driving in a car packed with supplies and friends, through rural Floridian small towns and sugar cane fields.   Many activities occurred there that made me feel in awe of what my friend group is capable of pulling off.  A solar paneled dance party, dying a wedding dress green over an open flame, the most beautifully constructed and thoughtful shitters I have seen in awhile, childcare, sweetly composed songs and performances, elaborate meals and general camaraderie all in the middle of the woods.   I was most impressed by the folks who went and killed something, cleaned it, seasoned it, cooked it and then fed it to me. Outside of that we would just hang out, lay around in grass, trying to catch up and take in as much as we
could of each others' presence.  I had a lot of anticipation about this gathering, mostly positive of being in the woods momentarily disconnected from the world and being around folks that for better or worse I had grown up with.  Gathering with old friends always allows a  chance for evaluation, leading to either laughing out loud or rolling your eyes that every one of us in some way is struggling with the exact same problems we were struggling with when we were twenty.  Within me I could recognize the traits I have overcome more or less (sharp tongue when hurt, inability to express feelings) and the traits in me that still need work (need for validation, insecurity).  I had a small amount of social anxiety and tackled it by volunteering at getting tasks done, making new friends, keeping my mind, heart, and hands busy. With all the activity the weekend in the woods went by quickly but in my last hour or so at the camp site I made one last trek down to the creek.  Sat on its bank, taking in the sun with my legs in the shimmery afternoon water, eavesdropping on other folk's conversations, wishing that creek would take me in somehow so I could stay a part of this moment in time for a while longer.  Left the campsite early to make sure to get some time on an actual beach back in Lake Worth.  Back in town I drank coconut water from a coconut, rum and whiskey-ed, sun bathed, and took an out door shower.  Sue kindly ignored my fake ass resistance to smoking and doled cigarettes out without me having to ask through out the weekend.  Whatever that chemical in cigarettes is that battles depression, God fucking bless it.   I got back on the plane with two bruises and about twenty mosquito bites.  Contusions, check!

And then some...

I had hoped to wrangle up some pictures from my excursion to the Everglades but have failed,my apologies.  Suffice to say it was beautiful?  Beautiful in this way that it is almost not real.  I did not take photos myself because I have this aversion to the photograph.  As if a moment is originally born sincere and with each photo taken it's percentage of sincerity drops.  This is all probably due to my own inability to connect with a moment and having a terrible/ridiculous habit of being future sad* in moments that should be making me happy but I'm already thinking about the second the moment will be ending.  The om of hanging out, like the om of meditation is a practice not something you're inherently born with and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't but dammit you gotta try.  I spent this past week being a "Dude third"** easily, with two friends from out of town visiting.  These dudes are the types of friends/house guests who are essentially family and their presence actually makes your life momentarily easier because they do things for you like make sure you eat food, tell you if you look good, remind you not to take any one's shit cos you're awesome and tend to various other household tasks.  "Gloria we're planning on posting a Craig's List ad for you so you can have a compost house boy, know what I'm sayin? (wink, wink)" in reference to my freezer which over the winter now only contains an irrational amount of compost, a small bottle of whiskey, a larger bottle of vodka and maybe two chicken sausages. A few days later,  I successfully held back some tears watching my dudes carefully navigate down my narrow stairwell with their bags, out of my life once again and shut the door making a faint attempt at being future glad (ommmmmmm) for when I will see them again.


This upcoming week:  More people in my house and the possible blossoming of my future career as a professional brides maid.

*Future Sad-when you are sad about something that has not happened yet (James)
**Dude Third-A male duo and then a female that compliments the pair (Avi).
(These are expressions created by friends that unbeknownst to them I co-opt and add to the Gloria vernacular).


Thanks TF for grammar check.