Another Runaway Bride

Free Preview CHAPTER 1 “We’ve got a runner!” “What?” “I say, we’ve got a runner!” then Faye, the bridesmaid in a hideous outfit, the type with huge bow and a serious style problem, continues the meticulous bathroom investigation, carefully looks about then sees an open window, narrow, quite. And the type a person might squeeze out, well, if that person fully appreciated a prewedding diet, that onerous system then awkwardly shimmy though, which would take a considerable struggle. Of which, the flight eventually stops New York City traffic and drivers show frustration, agitation, and mumble words not fit for print, as well as words not in the dictionary yet seem quite appropriate to this new golden age of pressure on everyone, this rush-rush-rush yet slow decline into poverty, into a new world order, as if a coming-of-age story, a Erziehungsroman, Künstlerroman or chapbook of the stark, cruel and miserable expanse of poverty, such as a modern version of the poorhouse, and maybe wholly misunderstood, and represents a noble experiment? And Faye repeats that message in one bridal shop room after another, as well as outside the front door both right then left, as well as in the middle of a busy city street, yes, during rush hour, as if a town crier in Times Square, “We’ve got a runner!” Or said another way, the world system that resembles a thriller, which gives the full impression of a corporate transnational surge, to gain supremacy over family and the nation-state system, over that declarative theory of multiethnic statehood, another a novus ordo seclorum, a modern dependency theory of globalization, to dissolve real sovereignty, to create yet another trope to live by, create another construct in a shallow language game, a common literary or rhetorical device, motif, or cliché. “We’ve got a runner!” This new age ushers in an off-off Broadway show several times removed, a new-age version of the poorhouse, and leftovers from one great pillage after another, from another raid in what seems as if an endless series of raids, yet versions that often shift style, with a shiny new veneer of bling and label to trick the mind with an advanced science, with a special art form, quite, and one that has mastered the impulse of gimme-gimme-gimme, as well as the new and improved version, such as the science of addiction and obsession, that great frontier? “I say again, we’ve got a runner!”