, , , ,

How To Dragon*Con

The following should be treated as a cautionary tale by any sci-fi conventioneer

   During Labor Day Weekend in 2009, my wife Isabelle and I decided to attend a science fiction convention in downtown Atlanta.  I knew that since we’d lived in New York, this would probably be a snap (always thought that about doing new things).  We’d once been to a one-day Star Trek Convention at the Javits Center back in 1989.  I may not have seen any celebrities there, but I did buy a cool transporter pad coffee mug and some rubber Spock ears.

 And a tribble.

Read more

,

The Post-Drunkalogue: part 2

THIS PICKS UP RIGHT FROM PART 1

August 1st arrived and I arrived at Penn Station.  It smelled like retired piss.  God I’d missed this place.  It was noisy and there was so much to look at you couldn’t focus on any one thing.  Luckily I’d stayed in touch with my friend Beau and he let me stay with him in the South Slope for a few days, until after the wedding, where I’d then get to housesit for my brother and his fiancé (Luis and Kathleen, or L & K) while they were in Bora Bora for their honeymoon.  They were balls-busy with plans but made time for me a few times before the 6th, their appointed day.

Read more

, ,

The Post-Drunkalogue: part 1

I’ve come to believe (mostly through observation) that just about everyone comes to a place in their lives where they do what’s called “taking stock.”  That time for me was in May of 1994, where, like a postwar resident of Berlin, I emerged from my (virtual) bunker and said, “what….the….fuck?!”  But unlike the urban German of another May in 1945, I knew that in my case all the damage was literally self-inflicted.  You could say I’d bombed myself back to the “Stoned Age.”

Read more

, ,

Jingles and Ditties

Last month my six year old niece turned to me, out of the blue, smiled and said,

“Na-tion-wide is on your side!”

She sang it, actually, with the perfect little melody that they use in the commercial.  Since then (actually since I was about 10 years old), I’ve had commercial jingles and TV show theme songs running through my head.  Some things I remember perfectly, in totality; some things are only snippets, half remembered like in a dream.

Like my niece, Grace, I was once very young and could play back ad jingles, but also like her, I exhibited no desire to buy insurance, or a used car, or bottled water.

 

Read more