2001-11-16 || 1:50 p.m.

|| long live the cakes! ||

dear esteemed colleagues of The Cakes Bowling League Internationale:

i am waiting with baited beer breath, itchy fingers and bowling shoes unraveling at the seams to hear word of our world tournament to take place in reno, nevada. what about the trip on the old folks gambling bus? what of the documentary shot in super 8 of the near break-up blow-up, complete with a fighting scene and crying and holding each other back with forearms riddled with tendonitis, in a gas station parking lot on the california-nevada border? the run-ins with state patrolmen and hookers? the tension between bundt and devil's food as they both surpass the almighty turkey and vie for the title of best 'dance of triumph' (devil's food with a hint of james brown, bundt with an understated pelvic thrust ((you know it's true, bundt.)) )? the matching shirts, the lucky sunglasses, the secret powers of harvey wallbangers and bowling radio? we will be seduced by the flashing lights and crashing pins, the beautiful waitresses and scent of shoe deodorizer, but our dedication and mutual love of the thirteen lb balls will keep us together (**deciding against the thirteen lb ball comment, as i am a refined lady).

i am meditating in the meantime, bowling fingers poised and resting on my knees, dreaming of clotheslines and flat apples and strikes.

i remain yours,

crab cake xoxo

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