Yeah, been drinking for a couple days. Which is unusual, since at my new home I mostly don’t drink at all. But, upon hitting the East Coast, the elbow just kept bending.

Weird thing about ‘blogging and writing and trying to build a rep on writing and like loving the truth over the fiction but exaggerating the truth into the personal memoir bullshit nonfiction that is so hip and happening and de riguer and all that. Anyways, interesting thing about all that is when that reality bleeds into the real one, the real reality.

I’ve been in Little Rhody (or as a minister referred to it earlier today, Rhode Island and its plantations) for my cousin’s wedding. So, my cuz is one of the people central to my growing up. His folks were my family, his brother’s death changed me like I hope I never experience again, and his childhood was my inroad into babysitting and understanding procreation and a whole lot of complex social constructs. If you were to write down central characters (as I guess I’m doing here), the cousin would be a major re-occuring role.

Fitting too that I would head back for his wedding above all other weddings, because I grew up in a single family household and anything I ever learned or felt or thought about the idea of “partnership” and life partner was from his mom and dad. They probably always will be my ultimate role models in that whole coupledom realm. (I secretly think my mom, another main character known as Pat, kind of hoped their idea of partnership would rub off on me.)

I’m not the only one who thinks the groom is the bomb. He is the cousin for whom every other cousin showed. Must be cool to be in the center of that kind of attraction. Just his mother’s family accounted for about 25 guests; none of whom I think would have thought of skipping.

Shit, people thanked me and thanked M. for making such a long trip. Honest to god, I couldn’t have, wouldn’t have wanted to miss it. By the way, the bride is cool enough to wed a central character. I really think they will both be happy in the union, or whatever the bourgeois classes call it.

So, it was a family reunion in a lot of ways. Pat’s family was all out in force; she would have dugged the pageantry and probably given her sister shit about the cost. (While also busting with pride and all sorts of emotion for the kid who essentially was her first grandkid, even if his official title was nephew.)

And in the family reunion the scary, funny, fuckedupness of the world wide web and the always poorly named “blogosphere” came in focus. They all knew M. before I introduced him.