Very tired. D's sister's wedding was this weekend and it was beautiful. I think it's knocked something out of place in my head and now I can never be cynical again. Love is amazing and family is so important and it's so genuinely lame to pretend otherwise. Obviously things are hard sometimes, but this love and family stuff, oh man it makes it worth it.

I also think I'm just a normie in the end. In passing, when I've told some people about the wedding–like just "oh I'm going to a wedding..."–they're so critical of the whole thing, like still pushing this liberal arts school fuck convention agenda. I guess I can see the use of that in certain political terms, but like if you're going to be straight and like work and have a credit card, and all these things that are conventional necessary evils then like I think it's okay to love someone and want to have a party with your family and make it clear that you're a team and intend to be for as long as possible. This all seems fine to me! And you know what, never–even in my most self-styled "radical" periods–I don't think I ever thought I wouldn't get married. Anyway, for a little bit, probably around the time of our Europe trip and just after, I felt a little embarrassed by my own happiness, like I should have some fake qualification about something. Like "yeah, i'm in this great relationship BUT...." or "yeah I'm excited about my work BUT..." It's so fashionable to hate your life. But it sucks to deny oneself the full spectrum of emotional experience just because it makes you a bit corny. I love my life!

After the wedding, D and I went to Clandestino in our evening-wear and people stared at us. We ran into a few people we knew and they were like "ha-ha what's with the clothes." We explained and they were all like oh, cool. I realized I had a bouquet with me and so it seemed like I'd caught it or whatever.

We were on drugs and very happy so we stayed up far too late and missed the wedding brunch. We got Dim Sum and were both too hungover to have a lively conversation, but it was nice nonetheless.

Then I went to Z's house with Ellen to meet him and J's new baby. The baby had a very serious face and his pinky nail was roughly the size of a peppercorn, if not smaller. People always talk about how small newborns' fingernails are, but it is actually as marvelous as they make it out to be, I think. The baby was lying in his bassinet completely still when we got there, such that he honestly looked dead; his skin was still sort of weird and seemed not meant for external use, which maybe gave him that pallor. Anyway, when I held him he was lively and he stretched a lot and tried to open his eyes, but he didn't really have it down yet. His hair was dark and I think his face is shaped like J's. His older brother threw a bit of a fit after a while, probably because of all the attention he wasn't receiving.

Anyway, it was lovely. Z and J are nice and I'm happy for them.