23 april 01
So yesterday was my cousin Marc's wedding, which was bound to be a bit odd given that my aunt and uncle have managed to cut themselves off from the rest of the family. They didn't invite anyone from the groom's father's side except us (my grandmother, my parents, my brother, and myself), and only invited us because my uncle couldn't really get away with not inviting his mother and sister. But hey, it's not to do with me. If I ever get married at least now I'll have a very specific idea of how I do not want it to be. The ceremony and reception were held at a hotel in Cambridge, MA. It was a beautiful day outside but the ceremony took place in this very dark little windowless room done up in a very 80's decor. For music they even had a man of questionable talent in the back of the room playing a synthesizer. The reception was pretty much what I expected with the exception of the seating arrangements. My brother and I were, for some reason we could not discern, seated at the kids' table. There we were, 23 and 25 years old, surrounded by children less than half our ages. The waitperson brought around a pitcher of orange juice for the wedding toast and we had to specifically request champagne (a request which was met with a cold stare). My brother got hit on by the mother of the 5-yr-old seated next to him. Needless to say we made fast friends with the bartender and felt lucky that we had each other for company in these situations. When we got home we went to the bar to hang out with GR who was playing My Bloody Valentine and Bauhaus which was causing me to feel nostalgic. Luckily Riley the Extremely Talkative Vietnam Vet was there to distract me with facts about solar turbines and stories of being locked in solitary confinement in Dublin.
This morning when I went to move my car I found a note on my windshield which read "The Jeep who brake your view miror the plate numbers is AD5 62F NY you can beep me at this num 877-627-XXXX." True enough, when I looked at the driver's side of my car I found that the side view mirror had been completely demolished. All that was left was a sad little piece of twisted metal to which a few shards of mirror pathetically clung. When I got to work I beeped the person who left the note and was informed that he had witnessed a jeep try to squeeze past my car while another car was on the road and went through my side view mirror without even a pause. Of course having this person's license plate doesn't do me much good because my car is too old to have collision insurance cover it and the police aren't really going to care. I am SO pissed. At work I was thinking about making up signs with the license plate number on it and a brief description of what happened and putting them up around town, but a co-worker pointed out that such action was a wee bit psychotic. I asked someone I went to school with who has recently become a lawyer if he could find the driver's registration information for me but he discouraged that sort of thing. I discovered tonight, however, that I have a bit of a connection I can use, and might be able to work something out. I am SO pissed. I mean...I mean...arg! So tomorrow morning I will bring my car to the Toyota body shop in Bay Ridge and hope they can fix it before I need to drive back to Boston for my friend's wedding this weekend.
The good news is that Ironminds posted a link to Rebecca's story on graphomanic, as she's one of their regular contributors. As a result I got a surge in traffic and a couple of very nice missives that said things like "The design is gorgeous. It makes my eyes happy." And then we have this message from one Rodrigo Rodriguez:
I think your site is so very excellent!
I feel as if it is my brother!
Thank you for giving me this great gift.
I will forever be in your debt, graphomanic.com!