For all the folks asking if things have changed since the cere­mony:

Doug and I went kite flying this evening in Moun­tain View as the sun set and then went to Zucca for scotch (15-year-old Dal­whinnie, neat, him) and a cock­tail they call Oh, Beau­tiful (Remy cognac, Grand Marnier and Earl Grey tea, hot, me), tapas (spicy garlic prawns, piquillo pep­pers with goat’s cheese, mush­room cro­quettes) and then panna cotta with ber­ries (divine, me) and Manchego, pear and wal­nuts (him) with a scrump­tious dessert wine I can’t recall the name of, and we dis­cussed anarcho-syndicalism and interest and tulip futures in 17th cen­tury Hol­land and Laz­arus Long, and then we went for a walk and went book shop­ping, in which I bought Burning Book (by Jess Bruder, pre­vi­ously dis­cussed) and Healing a Frac­tured World (by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks).

Life’s simply awful, I tell you.