us.

bread & puppet theater.
the nothing is not ready circus.
and us.
check the stolen-from-instagram-hashtag-search-type teleport:

yeah.
all of us.
a great big blanket,
waaaaaay too many snacks,
and lots of hats.
we know what we're doing, neighbors.
after all,.
the cucch and i are old hands at those sorts of hippie jauns,
so we treated our peoples to the benefit of our veteran expertise.
nobody likes wandering around not knowing what's up, do they?
no way.
that's what i'm sayin'.
we like positive shared experiences,
but NOT sharing our snacks with all the grit-grimy 'garious beggarfaces in attendance.
our purple quilt was sovereign and liberated territory,
both for and by the Folk Life & Liberty Fusiliers.
we had some times in the hot sun,
and i'm sure grateful for the friends and the opportunity that made it happen.
yeah.
***********
the pageant was mostly butt.
like,
old, sad, confusing, hard-to-see butt.
and that's no good.
too much running through the woods,
and not enough viewing of what was happening.
what a bummer.
it got better towards the end,
but whether that was due to the increased viewing potential,
or the proximity of fancy slices of fancy bread,
i can't really say with certainty.
i can say that the old man retired his stilts after fifty years,
and that really hit me in the heart.
time heals all wounds, they say...
but i've noticed it seems to cause more of them than it fixes.
jeez.
hard styles and hot days and long afternoons in vermont.
we doo-doo that fabulous furry freak sh!t,
and it just so happens we do it together.
good things and bad things and tough ones and easy ones,
all in one place, all day long;
never quiet, never soft.....