And I forgive you if you find that you cannot swim

I will not attempt a coherent summary of today, either, because I have been awake for far too much of it, but it was quite good. There were people I didn't know at my reading, and I even think some of them were in the right room; I wound up moderating two of my panels extempore (and in the process being asked to sing the "Lyke-Wake Dirge") and they were not trainwrecks; nor were the two I didn't moderate, though enthusing about Bride of Frankenstein for an hour was particularly fun; I was scheduled more or less solidly until five o'clock, but in my one hour off I managed to run into two friends from college (one being captainbutler; the other is now a lawyer, juggler, firespinner, and reader of Tarot cards, which sounds like some kind of professional trickster figure to me), a commedia artist, a bookseller I now owe CDs to, and some of the Post-Meridian Radio Players (whose show had better turn up on YouTube, thank you, programming). There was also dinner, which was an epic event: it involved me, nineweaving, Eric, Daniel, Deborah Mills, sheets of rain, a car that was not parked where we thought it was, Mary Chung's, and a whole fish in spicy bean sauce, like unto Leviathan at the end of time. Fortunately, all I have to do tomorrow is print out some lyrics, burn some CDs, and decide whether anyone other than me is likely to want to hear the "Anchor Song." I can think of worse dilemmas.