Enlightened Moments of Bunnyarchy ... by TimTv
("Bunnyachy" - A yearly Easter celebration in which a large group of misfits dress up in bunny costumes and rampage as many public establishments as possible in one night)
So there I was, in the Dojo, in the office, on the phone, finding out that my main plan of the night (giving an unknown opponent a chance to find out if blunt head trauma is truly the path to enlightenment) was to be cancelled. Outside, in the main training hall, ropes were being hoisted, pulleys attached, clips and clamps and clasps assembled, and pretty silver hooks lined up in a row. The Rites Of Passage suspension group was using the Dojo for a night of ritual and sacrifice; seekers along the boundaries of the borders of experience. The members were starting to gather in nervous anticipation as to which angels or demons might whisper into their ears amidst the hushed silence of their transient explorations tonight.
I was just thinking the same thing, but for altogether different reasons
Somewhere in the distance, the grinning faces of my family members stared at themselves in bedroom or bathroom mirrors, fixing makeup, adjusting feathers, making sure bunny ears flopped just so With frenzied hands they phoned each other to get the final details before heading out to meet and join once again in force as a tribe united. This time without dust or sunscreen, without sleeping bags or pajamas, this; tonight, was Bunnyarchy, and no civil citizen would be safe from the denizens of mirth-without-bounds.
In that I knew for some time that I would not be attending, I made sure the whole gang was aware. But now that the plans had changed, I had the perfect opportunity for a Pearl Harbor of epic proportions. At the mere thought of this potential tiger pounce my eyes got all wide and my tail got twitchy.
I left the school in the hands of the scarred seekers and proceeded home to prepare for battle. Fight what? Any last reservations, hesitations, apprehensions or pretensions that might otherwise not fall before me on this nights parade of lunacy and divine inspiration. I showered, shaved, dressed, prepped & preened. Leather, fishnet, velvet, glitter, gloss and lotioned flesh, and in my foppish dandy fashion finery, I headed back out into the night. I looked, smelled, sounded, tasted and felt gooooood. I was ready for the world.
Before my convergence with the Bunny conclave I stopped by the Dojo, partly to see if my suspension friends were doing allright and partially for the kicks I knew I would get from their reaction to my change of clothes. I was not disappointed. Their shock and glee fueled and primed me for my next mission on the nights agenda; Detroit Shakedown. After several phone calls and some tangled directions, I found a conspicuous man in a purple coat who had a small phone umbilically attached to mine waving me in like a flaming flagger on the runway of my dreams. As we entered the first club together, I was near critical mass with my excitement at spending a night unbridled with my friends. These were not just any friends; not the people of convenience who clutter your inbox, not half-hearted relations, not the sea of others though whom I had to swim to find these dust-faced angels These were the UberCarney; the Burners; the Rebels of the Sacred Heart the family one would choose if one had the knowledge that choosing was allowed.
As my second foot hit the tile on the inside of the bar, my entrance was spotted and a thousand water balloons broke. Love explosive! I was the birthday cake unexpected! Hooray! As anyone who has ever been to an airport with me knows, I LOVE arrivals. Ill go away just so I can arrive again!
This night was to be triumphant in its power and glory; a taste of Augusts festivals to come. And so the angels and devils I had dreamed of longingly so many hours before now danced around me in a fur filled festival of velveteen delirium. This was a joy not to be surrendered. This was also minute one.
Friends, if I could give to you what love I received from my Brothers-And-Sisters-Of-The-Dust-Everlasting; unconditional and true, you might mistake me for a deity and think this love divine. Deity? No. Just a starry-eyed seeker; a lantern by which things overlooked might be illuminated and found by those who might happen to be looking. But divine, yes. This love is one of surreal swirling things, of deep and interwoven things, of cosmic forces unnamed and internal combustions unnamable. Intangible but undenied.
We hold these truths to be self-evident.
Maybe in the book of my times one day I shall write all of this out for you. But tonight let it be the spark that sets fire in your dreams for the rest of your sleeping hours. And when you awake, be empowered by the knowledge that a force this true exists in your world, and will exist forever.
*
p.s. - If spellcheck was a personal assistant, shed have quit on me long ago!
p.p.s. No, I am not high right now, you drug crazed hippies.
T.
("Bunnyachy" - A yearly Easter celebration in which a large group of misfits dress up in bunny costumes and rampage as many public establishments as possible in one night)
So there I was, in the Dojo, in the office, on the phone, finding out that my main plan of the night (giving an unknown opponent a chance to find out if blunt head trauma is truly the path to enlightenment) was to be cancelled. Outside, in the main training hall, ropes were being hoisted, pulleys attached, clips and clamps and clasps assembled, and pretty silver hooks lined up in a row. The Rites Of Passage suspension group was using the Dojo for a night of ritual and sacrifice; seekers along the boundaries of the borders of experience. The members were starting to gather in nervous anticipation as to which angels or demons might whisper into their ears amidst the hushed silence of their transient explorations tonight.
I was just thinking the same thing, but for altogether different reasons
Somewhere in the distance, the grinning faces of my family members stared at themselves in bedroom or bathroom mirrors, fixing makeup, adjusting feathers, making sure bunny ears flopped just so With frenzied hands they phoned each other to get the final details before heading out to meet and join once again in force as a tribe united. This time without dust or sunscreen, without sleeping bags or pajamas, this; tonight, was Bunnyarchy, and no civil citizen would be safe from the denizens of mirth-without-bounds.
In that I knew for some time that I would not be attending, I made sure the whole gang was aware. But now that the plans had changed, I had the perfect opportunity for a Pearl Harbor of epic proportions. At the mere thought of this potential tiger pounce my eyes got all wide and my tail got twitchy.
I left the school in the hands of the scarred seekers and proceeded home to prepare for battle. Fight what? Any last reservations, hesitations, apprehensions or pretensions that might otherwise not fall before me on this nights parade of lunacy and divine inspiration. I showered, shaved, dressed, prepped & preened. Leather, fishnet, velvet, glitter, gloss and lotioned flesh, and in my foppish dandy fashion finery, I headed back out into the night. I looked, smelled, sounded, tasted and felt gooooood. I was ready for the world.
Before my convergence with the Bunny conclave I stopped by the Dojo, partly to see if my suspension friends were doing allright and partially for the kicks I knew I would get from their reaction to my change of clothes. I was not disappointed. Their shock and glee fueled and primed me for my next mission on the nights agenda; Detroit Shakedown. After several phone calls and some tangled directions, I found a conspicuous man in a purple coat who had a small phone umbilically attached to mine waving me in like a flaming flagger on the runway of my dreams. As we entered the first club together, I was near critical mass with my excitement at spending a night unbridled with my friends. These were not just any friends; not the people of convenience who clutter your inbox, not half-hearted relations, not the sea of others though whom I had to swim to find these dust-faced angels These were the UberCarney; the Burners; the Rebels of the Sacred Heart the family one would choose if one had the knowledge that choosing was allowed.
As my second foot hit the tile on the inside of the bar, my entrance was spotted and a thousand water balloons broke. Love explosive! I was the birthday cake unexpected! Hooray! As anyone who has ever been to an airport with me knows, I LOVE arrivals. Ill go away just so I can arrive again!
This night was to be triumphant in its power and glory; a taste of Augusts festivals to come. And so the angels and devils I had dreamed of longingly so many hours before now danced around me in a fur filled festival of velveteen delirium. This was a joy not to be surrendered. This was also minute one.
Friends, if I could give to you what love I received from my Brothers-And-Sisters-Of-The-Dust-Everlasting; unconditional and true, you might mistake me for a deity and think this love divine. Deity? No. Just a starry-eyed seeker; a lantern by which things overlooked might be illuminated and found by those who might happen to be looking. But divine, yes. This love is one of surreal swirling things, of deep and interwoven things, of cosmic forces unnamed and internal combustions unnamable. Intangible but undenied.
We hold these truths to be self-evident.
Maybe in the book of my times one day I shall write all of this out for you. But tonight let it be the spark that sets fire in your dreams for the rest of your sleeping hours. And when you awake, be empowered by the knowledge that a force this true exists in your world, and will exist forever.
*
p.s. - If spellcheck was a personal assistant, shed have quit on me long ago!
p.p.s. No, I am not high right now, you drug crazed hippies.
T.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
I LOVE it!
I think I read it like four times.