The excellent and melodious musical comedy duo Paul and Storm, who I recently saw perform in San Francisco, and who at the concert threw a fudge cake at me (it was meant out of love, mind you, and which, somewhat disturbingly, I still have, unconsumed), have been so kind as to say nice things about me and my novels in their podcast today, at around the 28 minute mark, which says to you that the podcast has gone waaaay long, since it’s touted as being five to ten minutes on average, but you know, sometimes things you don’t expect to go for very long just keep on going, like this sentence, and you just have to let it happen, because sooner or later they do just stop. See? Anyway, very nice of them to say kind things about my work to their masses of minions.
And indeed if you have a half hour to kill, the rest of the podcast is pretty interesting as well, particularly the bit where the two of them riff off being in the interesting position of meeting some of the folks they like and admire, and how it’s sometimes a challenge not to completely lose your shit in that situation. For example, when they met this dude recently (link to the dude’s actual journal, which suggests that he did not in fact find them to be creepy stalkers).
There’s some irony in that particular example for me, since at one point in the early 90s, when I worked at the Fresno Bee, I pitched a story about graphic novels to my editor just to have an excuse to phone the dude and talk to him for a half hour. Yes, yes, I too was a creepy stalker in my day. But on the other hand, I’ve not had breakfast at the dude’s house, so Paul and Storm win this round of Creepy Stalker Sweepstakes. That’s all right, because I still have my “Sharing a bong with Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore” story. And what a tale it is! Man, the stories I could tell you. About the bong. And Kim. And Thurston. And the bong. But never mind that now.
Paul and Storm also have an audience participation part, talking about embarrassing moments in their past that they still beat themselves up over years later, and asking folks to share their own story in the comments. I think the closest thing I have to that happened about three years ago, when I thought it would be ginchy to have one of my books have an official soundtrack, so I e-mailed a hungry young musician who I thought would be perfect for the gig, and it went a little something like this:
I think you should do an EP based on my book
The Android’s Dream! It starts with someone farting
someone else to death! The kids will love it!
In retrospect, probably not my most suave moment, and I think I’d probably redo it if I could. Rather more recently I casually inquired of Coulton’s booker how much it might cost to have Coulton perform a private gig and got back a number which was expensive but which I could now totally afford, thank you Stargate: Universe. But given my past history with Coulton, I suspect my invitation to have him play a private gig at my home, in a special room in my basement that I’ve made up just for him, will just get me put on his list of People To Have Restraining Orders Against. It’s a reminder that once you’ve made an impression as a bit of a jackass, as I figure I may have with poor Mr. Coulton, it’s hard to come back from that.
In any event, if you have any tales of Eternal Embarrassment you’d like to share, whether or not they involve famous folk, drop Paul and Storm a comment. No, don’t leave it here, it was their idea. I’m just telling you about it. Mocking comments about my pathetic stalkery ways, however, should be left here. And you know, do your worst. Because I’ll always have Kim. And Thurston. And that bong.