Sunday, noon, at “The Gods Are Bored, and Anne is clinging to her sanity by the tips of her pinkie fingers. I am NOT enjoying the Fuck Around phase , maybe because the anxious buzz in my brain is concocting all the possible Find Outs to come.
But, pish tosh! Today is the annual Big Deal St. Patty’s Day Parade, held in a neighboring blue collar borough chock a block with rednecks. This town pulls out all the stops when it comes to their favorite saint. This means that all — ALL— of Philadelphia’s string bands are here.
It’s cold, but there’s not a cloud in the sky. The sequins on the costumes are glittering like diamonds. I’m sitting here in my own satin suit, which blends me right in. Adding to the festivities, everyone who isn’t marching is wearing Eagles gear.
In the days of rock concerts like Woodstock, venues had “freakout tents” where people could go if they were bad tripping. These tents were run by volunteers who could calm things down and do a little detox or first aid.
Today this parade feels like a Freakout tent for me. Here I am. All is glittering. All is bright.
I’ll freak out again tomorrow. Or later. Fly Eagles Fly! Oh, dem Golden Slippers!
Photos from a previous year. Go Birds!
