Prior To The Tacomapocalypse

Gentle Reader, I am in a quandary.

I agreed to portray the corpse of St. Valentine for the art opening, tomorrow – Tacomapocalypse III: Staying Alive.  I’ve been plugging it pretty heavily, all over the Internet, and in person.


Like This!

All I have to do is give some opening remarks, introduce the studio, the musicians, vaguely wave my hand at the venue owner and his wares, and announce the costume contest, which I will later have to judge.

Funny word, that. Judge.

Some of my relatives are coming, for reasons best known to themselves, despite the excruciating distance, and the fact that probably they will not enjoy the show, or my friends, or approve of the Mix, which is next door and where the after-party is, and on and on. Their approval isn’t necessary, but I am cowering in fear of their judgement, nonetheless.


Also, I’m judging myself. I’m sitting here, trying to write thematically appropriate jokes, and I am pretty sure that I am the least funny person to ever draw air into his lungs. That is, I can occasionally quip with the best, but sitting down and writing jokes? Not my strongest area. There’s a lot of scope here for hilarity – Zombies! Apocalypse! Valentine’s Day is Utter Crap! – but it’s just not coming together for me.

At least the costume and makeup are sorted to my half-satisfaction. Crisp linen toga, red fringed cloak – the fourth century is easy. However, essentially, it’s held together with pins. I have it arranged to cover as much of my body as possible, given my issues in that area, but a toga will always be a toga, and expose a little more than I’m comfortable with, and in my mind, while I’m delivering my poorly written remarks, it is going to slip off of my body like the leaves of fall. In front of my aunt, uncle, and cousins, who are are devout, and will likely be appalled by my portrayal of a saint.


Wish us luck! No post tomorrow, for certain, but I’ll let you know how it goes on Saturday, with luck.


A rather excellent supper removed my doubts, and my writer’s block – to a certain extent. I’ve got my opening remarks sorted. Hurrah!

About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
This entry was posted in Musings and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Prior To The Tacomapocalypse

  1. paisleyglen says:

    I really need to point out that I’m not trying to make the show about me. That’s why I’m freaking out on the blog, instead of to the room-mates.

  2. ekgo says:

    It’s posts like me that make me sad I don’t live within driving distance. And also that we weren’t in love when you wrote this. Because I totally would have come over and helped you out in the funny department AND in the reminding you that if you wear a toga, you also get a long-ass wrap. You can cover everything.

    • Tyler J. Yoder says:

      As it turns out, everything was covered – due to the power of safety pins. At the event, I took a turn for the worse, and became a bit of a screaming diva, but once things actually got underway, everything was fine. Unfortunately, I was the only person who showed up as a zombie, and certainly the only one in a toga. Eh. It went well.

      Also I would totally love it if you were in driving distance, because of all of the reasons.

      • ekgo says:

        Safety pins are little, pokey miracles. And also, I just remembered I’m out and need to buy some more.

        The most-best reason for me to be within driving distance would be the fact that I willingly (and mostly-safely) drive in the snow so you would not have to be abandoned to the elements ever again. Well, that’s one of the most-best reasons, anyhow.

Have something to say, darling? Don't be shy!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s