A Brief Hop Through the Plot Bunny Hutch...

 while I can't write the rock-band story, it added color to "Wedded Twist", I think.

We unloaded the van under a bright blue and cloudless sky. It surprised me to have driven out of the clouds, as if Neil and Brian had to hitch up oxen instead of turning their ignitions. Maybe Neil had been right to bring his fancy shades. It always surprised me how quickly the weather could change.  Maybe there was a lesson in that for some people, but I tended to end up in the same shadow all the time anyway. Dag, I told myself, if I opened that door, maybe I’d never get it closed again, which is why I only halfway stitched myself together before turning my attention fully to charming Dr. Rosen. If I kept the words flowing, people tended not to notice when I wasn’t saying anything at all.  I wasn’t sure if that was a point for my skills, or against Rosen’s. It was ancient history, now, I supposed, but my urge to ramble appeared evergreen.  In a sense, my tongue leaped greedily on Neil’s black-and-white “Spousal Delusion “tour shirt.

“Wow, you saw that! Totally peanut-butter-and-jealous.” I borrowed that from him; he shrugged fake-modestly. I felt like he wasn’t helping his straight street cred with it, but it was a kick.

“Ana’s last show at the Cow Palace.” Again, he kind of acted as if he built the venue or brought the band into being instead of paying Ticketbastard for some second-string organ. She was in the hospital for six months after that.” Still less scary than Taylor to me. Nobody human bounced back that fucking fast…peanut-butter-and-jealous. But that one would go with me to my grave, or, urn, or whatever-the-hell, I promised myself.
Sometimes it was hard to deal with how ironic that band’s name wasn’t, though I didn’t think it was literally true, no matter how much Ana and her bandmates had heaved innuendo at David Letterman and Stephen Colbert and made me low-grade worship them in all my desert-cripple keener’s obscurity. “It’s really too bad, you know,” Because after that, they made Lauryn Hill look punctual, and the bassist had a born-again phase…we were all just chewing over a memory, at this point.  Better Neil’s than mine, though.

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