A Wedding.
Sep. 6th, 2014 02:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rhythmaningIt was a good wedding. I met lots of old friends, the odd lover, and a great many new people, too. (No new lovers.)
I had conversations about choreography and creativity, and the ethics of walking out of performances; about morality and art, and the extent to which deeper knowledge of an artist's behaviour affected one's views of their art; about photography and seeing, and my instinctive desire to edit others' photographs (which would make them my photographs, not theirs); about identity and privilege and a near-future in which we may all be foreigners, if not strangers.
I drank beer and champagne, and a rich red wine and whisky (and then more whisky, preceded by more wine, of course, and more wine), and water, more water, and elderflower with blueberries floating just out of reach.
(A combination which may go some small way to explaining my lack of motivation today.)
I ate chickens' nests and baby mozzarelli, prosciutto and olives, salami and artichoke (more hearts, soft and cut), fish-like pork bellies and tomato-tartlets ripped from a bird cage. And sausages, there were sausages.
(There was no halloumi. Well, there was halloumi. But it wasn't eaten. Well, it was eaten. A lot of it, huge volumes. But not by me. Horrible, rubbery stuff.)
There were speeches, too, which were all rather lovely and moving in their own ways, and in several instances very funny, too, and occasionally very funny, lovely AND moving all at once.
It was a very good wedding.
I had conversations about choreography and creativity, and the ethics of walking out of performances; about morality and art, and the extent to which deeper knowledge of an artist's behaviour affected one's views of their art; about photography and seeing, and my instinctive desire to edit others' photographs (which would make them my photographs, not theirs); about identity and privilege and a near-future in which we may all be foreigners, if not strangers.
I drank beer and champagne, and a rich red wine and whisky (and then more whisky, preceded by more wine, of course, and more wine), and water, more water, and elderflower with blueberries floating just out of reach.
(A combination which may go some small way to explaining my lack of motivation today.)
I ate chickens' nests and baby mozzarelli, prosciutto and olives, salami and artichoke (more hearts, soft and cut), fish-like pork bellies and tomato-tartlets ripped from a bird cage. And sausages, there were sausages.
(There was no halloumi. Well, there was halloumi. But it wasn't eaten. Well, it was eaten. A lot of it, huge volumes. But not by me. Horrible, rubbery stuff.)
There were speeches, too, which were all rather lovely and moving in their own ways, and in several instances very funny, too, and occasionally very funny, lovely AND moving all at once.
It was a very good wedding.
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no subject
Date: 2014-09-06 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-06 03:27 pm (UTC)You know swype far too well.
But I think I shall miss the random poetry of "birds".
no subject
Date: 2014-09-06 03:29 pm (UTC)Am now wondering about "The Existential Poetry of Swype"?
no subject
Date: 2014-09-06 03:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-06 03:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-07 03:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-07 05:08 pm (UTC)They were quite nice.
no subject
Date: 2014-09-08 09:54 am (UTC)But you are wrong on halloumi.
no subject
Date: 2014-09-08 10:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-08 10:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-08 10:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-10 12:07 pm (UTC)