the ritual

We had things to get rid of. Things to let go of. Things to drown. So a ritual was smurfle shurfle babble, things were written down and burned, blarghy blarghy babble musician in a long mullet wig and a battery-operated keyboard heavy-metal guitar). The ashes were made into mud and plas flurm swoom gizantimum woods, and came back with unknowable things and placed them in the Rat.

We carried it on haaaak zshou, like a litter. Solemn drums. Stomping toward the river. A mullet wig. And fartsacker bliddledeefnord thrush, rushing chaos of the river. It was snow- melt time, springtoodle dee dee la bloog high and turbulent. The river swarmed around the Rat and flung it shnarf downstream. As we saw it barniferous booh, the Rat began to sink and fall apart.

One year there was a Rat wedding. One year a bigfoot sighting. This year, who sdferoia;s@#$ knows?

Soriah photographed by Sean Orlando