one book and one large bearded man please

“L.E.P.I.G.?” said the weary author to me.
“Yes, please.” I said. “And if you would also please sign this gentleman for me?” I pointed to the large, bearded man rolling up his sleeve.
“I would be delighted,” said Mr. Gaiman.

This is my week of cultural experience, it seems. Tuesday the Opera, Wednesday Neil Gaiman, and Thursday the Takao Tanabe opening & gala at the Art Gallery. Which I didn't even realize was a major cultural event until I was actually at it, contemplating the award-winning painter, who smirked at me over the Lieutenant-Governor.

( The madness or mild neurosis of crowds at a Neil Gaiman reading )

( Opening, gala, general fuss, and Enthusiasm Fatigue )

I wonder if all the people who have shouting arguments outside my apartment building late on Friday nights realize how utterly not unique they are. I want to go down and tell them, "Your fight can't possibly be as meaningful as you think it is. I hear one just like it at least twice a week. Your anger is not special. Go home and sleep it off."

{rf}

*Note -- this is a long and winding entry. In the more coherent light of morning, I may well edit and re-organize it a bit. If you respond to things which then disappear, I apologize.