Well kiddies, it looks like the day has come. The time is near. The end is nigh. In only 3 days, I shall take that headlong dive off the cliff, and see if I can fly. I will be marred... oops, that's married.
It's time that ol' Rosta-man, Ry-Ry, ol' R2, shuffles off and makes room for the new, improved, mature, aristocratic gentlehusband - who will then leach off his wife as much as possible in order to maintain his position as musician.
Remember chil'ren, I've been with this chick for 7 years. We've lived together for 5. The only thing that's changing is our marital status. But there's a mystical quality in standing before the people you care about most in life and basically promising not to fuck up too badly. Therefore, I'm getting a little nervous. Every once in a while, there manifests in my stomach a twinge, a mere pang of anxiety that I haven't felt in a long while, and I gotta say, I'm glad it's there. It reminds me that I'm not always composed, in control, or absolutely ready for this. It whispers to me that I actually mean what I am doing, that it is important, and that probably I should have another beer or five.
As much as a slam dunk as this wedding and marriage is, I still feel like it's fragile, and we had better be willing to work on this just as hard as we work on anything else. Et cetera, et cetera. I'm done with the emotional download, the keyboard masturbation. I will return next time (whenever that will be) renewed, and a holy shit husband!
Down the rabbit hole I go... dun, da, da-dum!
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Hey, Ryan what's up. Good thing I found you at this point so I can congratulate you on the nuptials. Hope things are going well for you. If you head to my blog you can see how interesting things have gotten for a trombone player. :)
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