pilfered from email

Field Report, FanExpo 2007

Sadly we didn’t run into each other, Commander. I wandered around with my nerdly bro-in-law Richie for hours on end and took some stellar photos with my cruddy camera. The Guitar Hero competition was a surprise delight — there is something so endearing about watching a 13 year old rock out on a plastic guitar, entirely shy but performing nevertheless. I went to (count ’em) TWO Q&A’s — Adam West and our darling Charisma Carpenter. Both of whom are charming and funny. It turns out Charisma and I are indeed two separate people tho I don’t have the photo evidence to prove it. (Unless a photo I took with her a tiny spec in the bg proves it. No, I didn’t think so.)

My favourite thing is the people all dressed up and in particular the families of cos-players. I think I’ll be going back today but am scared I will spend all my moolah on geeky merchandise like buffy and angel playing cards, BSG t-shirts, Dr. Who piggy banks, a lifesize metal Terminator statue, ….

Super fantastic.

The Calhouninator.


Dear Da,

I hope that your football match is brilliant and exciting and that your team wins and also practices wells beforehand.

Never have I read Joyce Oates. Everyday it seems someone mentions a book or a writer that I have not read. I should keep a master list with me of the book recommended, and by whom, and try to get my way through it eventually. It seems infinite.

I am reading the last Harry Potter book in an effort to finish it before I am spoiled by spoilers. So far so good. It’s more exciting than the last one and really that’s all they offer a reader of my age. My old old age. Then I have two library books to read: another children’s book but by Clive Barker and then an adult book by a writer best known for his children’s books (Lemony Snicket). And I’ve just finished reading A Wrinkle in Time — that’s one I couldn’t believe I’d made it this far without encountering.

I agree about the preening and pruning people with their Warhol haircuts. Shudder. Some of them are likely to leave Londontown and descend on our town for the film festival. Those uniformed folks with badges and cellphones and, it used to be, black turtlenecks.

Alas poor Yorick. I had a dream last night that I could see you on the street out my window and you were doing a crazy dance, like that Italian clowning you like (but I find frightening). I think it was because Claire, Adam, and I looked at photos last night — among them you dancing on the street in New Orleans with the hobo, first thing in the morning, painter’s cap on.

Today we’re going up to the cabin. S’rain has lots of work to do she has mentioned and Claire and I have lots of reading work to do. Mine more fun than Claire’s. She is studying for her mba and I am reading (experimental) fiction written by Daccia, daughter to George, who you’ve likely met once or twice. And next week I’m off from work. Shall wander about town with Claire and perhaps get some dullish practical things done too. Leaky faucet and all that.

Love, cheers, ehm, loose chippings, & tartan umbrellas,


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