My man Jamie got married this weekend. I don’t have any decent photos, because my camera is a piece of crap, but I’m not worried; this is the first wedding I’ve seen since the proliferation of digital cameras, and I have never even heard of a more gadget-ridden and thoroughly photodocumented event. In two weeks there will be more evidence of Jamie and Karen’s wedding in the world than there is of the last World Cup . On the strength of the birthday paradox alone there’s going to be at least a thousand brilliant, perfect pictures of every moment of the day on somebody’s drive around.
Understand, my concern here is for the events surrounding the bride and groom, not the marriage per se; finding a good picture of the bride, for example, is going to be like finding a needle in an easily-opened box that contains only needles. If fish-and-barrel metaphors are your thing, I would suggest that it will be like dynamite-fishing in a pet store. I have long held the private belief that Jamie’s kung-fu was very powerful, to be feared and respected, and that he would wind up in the arms of somebody both scary-smart and really hot, but let me say this to you: not only was I right, but Damn. Superlatives fail me.
A curious coincidence, this marriage was administered by the same man who performed Antoine and Alethea’s wedding, and if you need a guy to officiate that kind of thing, I wholeheartedly endorse this fellow. His style is spartan, respectful but straightforward, simple and elegant; it seems to say “We are witnessing a declaration of love and lifelong commitment today; this is beautiful on its own, and doesn’t need to be adorned.” And I can get all the way behind that, because he’s all the way right, and it was a beautiful thing to watch.
And then dinner was great, and the dancing was fun, and they called off the clinking of glasses to evoke the kissing, and made people write haikus instead, which was an act of genius. And of course, that got totally got out of hand almost immediately anyway, and you could see the tables afterwards littered with the Haikus We Perhaps Should Not Speak Aloud, and that was cool too. And Masato, who I hadn’t seen in years, grabbed my ass, and it was just like old times.
This was a great night, and it was a great honor for me to have been there to see it. I’ll have more to say about this soon enough but in the meantime, to the bride and groom, I wish you good fortunes in interesting times, good health and long affection. Thank you for having me there on the big day.