I have never (maybe once, probably never, and I’m too lazy to go look into it) managed to write up what happened at any convention in any detail. I considered this to be a function of obligation (don’t have to so didn’t) for a long time, but I think that it’s just — cons are a kind of kaleidoscopic experience, with the number and qualities of the elements inhabiting the object cell, the size, angle and number of the reflecting mirrors, and the rotation of the object cell all changing wildly from moment to moment. That’s hard to recount, hard even to attach anything approaching stress or even sequence to after the fact.
Dinner with Cera & Ken was lovely. Cera and I have been entirely failing to have time to talk for about a decade, so that was nice, and we knew each other when I was crucifying myself to demonstrate heroic love for someone that didn’t appreciate or believe it and she was having difficulties of her own. We agree that we are both astonishingly more stable and happy now, and blame a large part of that one Ken & Shannon. Love feast all around.
Of feasts: the food was OMG!!!11!BBQ!!111BVDs good. I had wild boar nachos, Shannon’s carne asada and tequilas (one of which was amazing) and bites of Cera’s tongue (the meat on her plate was tongue, you pervs) (dammit), all of which were extraordinary.
Today I was cruising the intarwebs looking for a suitable writing prompt –