I looked up and saw a mirror among the pigeons and the planes

My delirious Arisia continues. Actually it's going all right. This morning I moderated "Stories of Displacement" and stayed I think on reasonable track; I regret only that I referred to one panelist as "Alex" when he was in fact a Steve. I did not expect one of my fellow panelists on "Judaism's Influence on SF/F" to turn out to be a friend of two Brandeis friends of mine, but given the subject matter perhaps this was inevitable. Both were a lot of fun. People said interesting things. (I said interesting things which I remember much less well.) In between I wandered around the dealer's room and the art show, ran into people and apologized for not talking a lot, drank cup after Styrofoam cup of hot water with honey in it, and read three-quarters of Alfred Hayes' In Love (1953), which I have now finished and recommend. Normally I would have stayed late for the Post-Meridian Radio Players' genderswapped Star Trek, but instead I went home, ate some clam chowder, and stared at nothing for several hours. Autolycus tried to eat my hair and got so confused when he failed that his small pink tongue stuck out in a tragically unphotographed blep. I might lie back down on the couch again.