Oy

Despite heading to bed at a reasonable hour (for a convention), almost no sleep last night. It’s almost as if my brain were focusing on something or another, despite my attempt to maintain a veneer of cool about it. Stupid brain.

How are you doing?

17 Comments on “Oy”

  1. I’m doing quite well thank you. Have had reasonable amounts of sleep lately. Of course, I have nothing quite so distracting on the horizon, but it’s still nice.

  2. Wow, me too. We stayed at the Motel 6 in Lafayette, IN and had a horrible night’s sleep on a fifty year old mattress and you there was no place nearby to purchase cold beer.

  3. Very glad that the storm that roared through here only produced rain and hail. There was a couple of touchdowns of tornadoes in the Minneapolis metro area, but not by my apartment.

  4. Maybe it’s some sort of trade off because I got my first good night’s sleep in at least a week last night.

    Ahhhh … sleep!

    I am quite jealous of all you conventioneers, however, so I am seeking solace in a decadent, artery-clogging breakfast.

  5. Better today. Went to see a punk show, got slammed/did some slamming around, feel much more Zen now, albeit with bruises. Yay, catharsis!

    The ride how from the cute glam band didn’t hurt either.

  6. Well, I’ve spent more time volunteering in the kids’ area (at Worldcon) than I have listening to my favorite authors.

    At least when I get back to the hotel (and, thus, down to a single eleven-year-old for underage company), things seem very relaxing in comparison…

  7. Good luck! Me, I have a lovely day of WoW and writing lined up, finishing off with my weekly pub quiz. Good times. Not as good times as going to Anticipation, but you know, acceptable.

  8. Maybe it’s the BrainPal that gives you a hard time? (ok, bad joke. I guess I’m just too much into the the whole “Ghost Brigades” translation thing…).

  9. Yeah, I’m going to go with the nap theory too. Because it’s not like you have anything to be nervous/excited/distracted about today!! Ahem.

  10. Ah yes, con overload. I’m familiar with it. I think I’ve built up sufficient tolerance, but I know the symptoms, and for a long con like Worldcon, I’d probably be where you are too.

    Watch out for the traditional con-crud infection while you’re out there. If you get another moment of brain-won-shut-up, I find taurine supplements help. Most US drug stores stock them. Dunno about Canada.

  11. centavita – I am a married retired missionary. We have 4 children, 15 grandchildren and 2 great-grandsons.
    Mom

    Actually, doing quite well today. Having lunch with Roger’s son Peter and wishing you well on the award. Love, Mom

  12. Doing well, thank you.

    Thinking of you and wishing you the best this evening. Have a great time at the party! (Laissez les bon temps rouler, even.)

  13. “It’s almost as if my brain were focusing on something or another, despite my attempt to maintain a veneer of cool about it.”

    Sounds like maybe John won the hugo for Best Novel? I’m trying to find the results….

  14. changterhune – Before you hear lies from Chang Terhune himself, we thought we’d tell you the truth: without us, his old action figures, he’d be nowhere. He loved science fiction from way back and began reading it at an early age, but it was through us that he acted it all out. That’s what led to the writing. He watched a lot of science fiction shows like Star Trek, U.F.O, and movies, too. But we were always there to do his bidding. And it’s like they say: you always forget about the little people on your way up. Oh, the 70’s and early 80’s with him were good times! He’d use these blocks and make all the crazy buildings for us to be in his stories. I gotta say the kid’s imagination was pretty damn fertile. Oh, he had friends, but they just weren’t into it like him. He was like the Lance Armstrong of action figures. And of science fiction. At first, when he began writing in the eighth grade, we didn’t mind. He still made time for us. And we knew that when he was holding us in his sweaty little hands and he got that far off look in his eye, he’d come back to burying us in the back yard or - god forbid! – blowing us up with firecrackers. But it was worth it for a part in one of those stories. We loved him for it. He kept us around even when we were minus a leg or two - or even a head. In that mind of his, he found a use for all of us. Then he discovered girls. October, 1986. It was like the end of the world. One day we’re standing in the middle of this building block creation he’d pretended was some marble city on a planet near Alpha Centauri and the next we were stuck in a box in the closet. Not even a “See ya later!” Nope, it was into the closet, then we heard some high-pitched girly-giggles then silence. We didn’t see him for years. We got word about him once in a while. Heard he took up writing, but it was crap like “The Breakfast Club” only with better music. We couldn’t believe it. Not Charlie. What happened to those aliens with heads he’d sculpted out of wax? Spaceships? Those complex plots? All gone. For what? You guessed it: Girls. Emotions. “Serious fiction.” I tell you, it was like hearing Elvis had left the building. During our two decade exile in the closet, we heard other things about him. He went to college. He wrote a lot, but not much he really liked. We knew it even then. It was like he didn’t dare write science fiction. Some of us had lost hope and just lay there. Others kept vigil, hoping for a day we didn’t dare speak about. Then we heard he’d stopped writing in 1996. Did he come to reclaim us? No. He took up music for ten years or so. He took up yoga. Once in a while, he’d visit us in the closet. But it was half-hearted. His mind was elsewhere. Then one day, he really did come back for us. One second we’re in the dark and the next thing we know we’re in a car headed for Massachusetts. Suddenly we got a whole shelf to ourselves out in broad daylight! Then he bought a bunch of others form some planet called Ebay. He’d just sit and stare at us with that old look. But why were we suddenly back in the picture? He had a wife now, who didn’t mind that he played with us. So what had happened? Turns out he’d never forgotten about those stories. He’d been thinking about all of us and the stories he’d made up and then remembered he’d been a writer once. From the shelf we could see him typing away. Before long he’s got a whole novel together! Then he’s working on another one. Word is there are two more in the planning stages! Some short stories, too! It’s good to see him using his imagination again. Its good to know he never abandoned us. He returned to his true love of science fiction. We hear the stories are pretty good. Someday we’ll get one of the cats to score us a copy of the manuscript. Man, it’s good to be out of the damn closet! --- I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me I'm smarter than you I'm harder than you I'm better than you I'm just raw I'm hotter than you More popular than you More clever than you And goshdarn it, people like me
    Chang, incarnadine

    Head hurt.

    Head really hurt.

  15. It’s very strange to be attending a Worldcon…but the slow pace of not working meant I met your wife. She’s nifty.

    Congrats on the hardware!

Exit mobile version
%%footer%%