1. I do not cry at weddings. It was nightengale sobbing beside me that did it. Like yawning, tearing is contagious. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
2. Friday has a lot to answer for, or rather the 8 am Dolorous Phonecall on Friday has a lot to answer for, in that I still have a stubborn case of Little Mermaid Feet. Or Foot, as it is now. Not helpful on an erranding/ Nuit Blanche weekend.
3. Thursday evening I came home to the lingering smell of baking cakes, which was pleasant. Friday evening I came home to the lingering smell of melting chocolate, which was pleasanter. I can see why people get married.
4. Am still inclined to smile at trensaddiction inadvertantly locking herself inside my house when the gas man came to call. Well, it was funny the way *she* told it. This is why I leave the door on the latch, basically. (The gas man is a neighbourhood institution who comes round the first Friday of every other month to read the meter. I wave him down to the basement and then let him into the house next door. When I'm home, that is, and not sitting in a pub soaking my Little Mermaid Feet in Singapore Slings. Uh, figuratively speaking.)
5. The freakiest thing about weddings is that the bridal couple always looks alike, even when opposite sex. I discovered this a good 25 years ago going over wedding photos with a friend. 'Bev and Rick look exactly alike,' Amy said in shock. 'No they don't,' I said, because they didn't. Same general colouring, but he was round faced while she's long with a pointed chin. 'No, *look*,' she insisted, and pointed. Same soft squarish face; same nose; same unassertive chin. 'The photographer did something with the lighting. Must be.' Yes, well. I met Tav and Kiro three weeks ago and they look totally different. Yesterday I couldn't figure which of them was which. One of them was wearing glasses, but I still wasn't sure which.
6. Princess Tutu is the oddest thing to watch when teetering on the edge of exhaustion. I imagine it's the oddest thing to watch any time, but stoned, drunk, or sleep-deprived lends a particularly odd air to it, or vice versa. To ep 5 it feels much less intellectual and edgy than Utena, but that probably makes it all the more effective. It's also perfectly convincing within the confines of its own reality, as almost all anime is, but quite unrelated to any other kind of reality. Which is why (as Seidensticker famously said about Japan itself) you can only describe it properly to people who've already seen it.
7. In the mental dislocation of Princess Tutu I somehow succeeded last night in removing lj's navigation bar, again, from Firefox and IE. It requires a kind of six-dimensional thinking and navigating around the fact that the Firefox help page (How to find your user profile) displays in Japaneseon my machine, as does all of blogspot. The link is to Firefox's English page, but click it and I'm facing a screen of hiragana and kanji. I've yet to work out the whys of that, but five more eps of Princess Tutu, if and when, might do it. (I suspect, however, that it's that piece of css that makes any lj page load twice in IE and frequently crashes The Toronto Star.)
8. Kindred Cafe is around the corner from Eliot's Books, and Eliot's Books had two copies of Lord D'Arcey that called to me throughout the reception until I went and bought them. Lord D'Arcey is an example of a certain genre of fantasy that there isn't much of, but I forget which genre it is.
9. You guys, I love love *love* that string of LED lights. I shall bike in nothing else from now on. You *cannot* fail to see me when they're lit.