I had a great time and I want to write about it, but I’ve had a bit of the block on me of late - the block comes for me when there are things that I need to be writing about, but am avoiding such that I shut down and can’t even convey the “here’s what we did” pap that I often spread out on this little piece of blog toast. Let’s force it anyway and see what happens.

I told John early as we made our way up from the family lawns and churches towards the heart of the street party, “If Kansas City is the city of fountains St. Louis should be know as the city of the public drunk - it’s one of the things we do quite well.”

“If we walk north while the parade heads south we can watch the parade on fast forward.”

I didn’t take a camera to the Dogtown St. Pat’s parade, but I thought about it and then I kept framing shots - the half drank corona with a lime in the drink holder of the plastic stroller fortress that looked more like a gardener‘s workspace than child transport - summation of the day - Irish families at drink. The fifteen red haired college girls with their legs hanging off the flat roof of the three story brick lofts at the intersection of Tamm and Clayton - infinite instances of green beads on power lines. Tall trash can girl, Lisa’s friend, with the bottle of rum down the front of her shirt - held in place by “the real ones” until she passed it joint like round our street circle and it went from half full to empty in two rotations.

You know those ten minute date parties that singles can go to where they get a new potential match ever few minutes - that’s what the parade was like - I can’t really count the number of groups we joined, moved with and then abandoned… like I am abandoning this thread for the moment while you move on to the next blog, and the next.