Bags: Packed

The first leg of my book tour travel begins Sunday morning, when I travel to NYC. Monday I have business meetings with my publisher and some other folks; Tuesday is when things kick off with a panel at Book Expo America. Wednesday I have signings and then an event in Philadelphia. Then I come back home for two local appearances — Dayton and Cincy. This, coupled with the fact that as a guy and a science fiction writer, I’m allowed to dress very casually for my events, means that I can travel very light: One duffel bag and one messenger bag for five days. This does not suck.

The messenger bag (which is really a computer bag, but they call it a messenger bag to make the person carrying it rationalize that he’s hip and cool) is new, bought just today because I’ve gotten to a point in my life where I don’t feel like hauling a backpack everywhere; the backpack is good for many things but is not an optimal form factor for stuffing underneath one’s plane seat, and also, I don’t know. I’m just not feeling the backpack love anymore, you know? These are perhaps contradictory words coming from a man who’s packing t-shirts and jeans for several days of travel, but I’m going to go ahead and stick with them.

Also new but not shown: shoes with arch support, on account that for the next several days I’ll be doing a hell of a lot of walking, and my 43-year-old feet are finally letting me know that my flat-soled checkerboard Vans — beloved though they may be to me — are not going to cut it for extended movement. I am ambivalent about this, as you may expect, but my psychic attachment to iconic totems of my youth have to take a backseat to actually being able to walk. Thus is the life of a middle-aged man.

One thing about traveling this light is that I’m not entirely sure if I’m going to be able to pack my uke; I had sort of casually hinted/threatened to bring it along on tour to sing “Redshirt.” Depending on your point of view, this will either be sad news or you will feel you have dodged a bullet. If someone brings a uke to the Philadelphia event, I may still sing it. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Jonathan Coulton’s “Redshirt”: Get It Now For $1 (Cheap!)

You’ve heard the song, seen the tribute video, caught the song live and even endured my ukulele cover version. Now you may buy Jonathan Coulton’s fantastic new song “Redshirt” to have for your own forever, for just $1, off of Coulton’s own site. And while you’re there you can can pick up other songs and albums of his for stinkin’ cheap. It’s a fantastic way to top off your Coulton collection.

So get it! NOW. That is all.

“Redshirt” by Jonathan Coulton – LIVE

Captured last night at JoCo’s Boston gig by YouTube user “aforgottentune,” who has my thanks.

Also, in the category of Random Writer Sightings, I swear I see Shira Lipkin bopping along in the lower left of the frame from time to time. If not her, someone who looks a bit like her.

And to the folks who w00ted when Jonathan mentioned the book: Awwwww. Thanks.

If We Were a Nerd Supergroup We’d Be, Like, Bad English

Get it? Because we’re all writers? Get it? Get… aw, hell. Just, you know. Never mind.

That’s me, Wil Wheaton, Felicia Day and Pat Rothfuss, hanging about at the Origins Game Fair last night. The three of them were actual guests of the game fair; I and Krissy drove up to Columbus last night to hang with them a bit because hey, they were a drivable distance away. Events in the evening included dinner, a tour of the yeasty, hoppy bowels of the Barley Brewing Company, games of Jungle Speed, Bang! and Cards Against Humanity, and several spilled and/or broken glasses of alcohol as we acted like louche rockstars in the corner of a gaming room (actually, the glasses were spilled/broken because we’re clumsy, excitable nerds. But shut up, man).

It was the veritable tons of fun and as an extra special bonus, I also got to see friends Jennifer Brozek (who played our game of Bang! with us) and Ken Hite, who is an actual rockstar in the games community. It was a hell of an evening. If you’re a nerd.

And now, because I made that horrible allusion in the headline:

I know. I’m sorry too.