serinde

[Meant to post this a week ago but, well, events.]

On Saturday the 19th, elibalin and I daytripped to the New York Comic-Con. This is our story. Sort of.

11:30am: On line, which is very long. They might consider giving out the registration forms at the end of the line, not the head of it. A really great Ghostbusters costume just went by. So did a dorky Punisher (hint: white satin gloves do not say homicidal crimefighter, kids) and a quite over-substantial Emma Frost (OH GOD MY EYES).

11:45am: CBLDF booth. Poster-sized pages of Eisner's "Story of the Protocols of Zion". I learned many things, including that the Protocols of Zion are an actual thing, not a joke; that it was a rip-off of a French satirist's work done by a Russian faction trying to mess with the Czar; and--here's a big one--that when it was exposed as a hoax, Henry Ford recanted his previous anti-Semitic position. Lots of people talk about Ford being an anti-Semite, but I'd never heard anyone mention that he spoke out to say "er, I was wrong, sorry about that."

It is a sin and a shame that, despite being a comix fan since high school, I'd never heard of Eisner until dariodevil hung a picture of The Spirit over his desk.

11:55am: Comics are now officially an all-gender fandom. The line for the women's bathroom goes on for miles.

12 noon: This place is full of No. Anime "Johnny Ramone Army"? What? Also, neon Japanese swords. OTOH, I heartily approve of the piles of beanbag chairs at the end of several aisles serving as mini-lounges.

12:05pm: LIEEEEEEEEEEEFELD!!! Armageddon Now looks like his usual shite.

12:45pm: Filthy hucksters section. D is right. Everyone's world stops at 1975, goddammit.

2pm: Have gone through most of the filthy hucksters, and found a lot of things I was looking for in a 50c. bin. We're wandering aimlessly through Artists' Alley, which also includes writers, don't ask me. Would like to meet Geoff Johns but the line is around the block. A lot of the artists look very lonely, poor things. We have holed up to camp in a corner for The Pause That Refreshes, in lieu of paying $4 for a Coke.

4:20pm: Back after lunch with nedlnthred in Bryant Park. We are in line for The Goddamn Spirit, which event is, unsurprisingly, late. I will undoubtedly regret not stopping to pee, but I guess I can always use this to make a Statement if need be.

4:30pm: Still not king.

4:50pm: Finally inside. Still not started. We have a momentary fear that they aren't running late and this will actually be showing some wretched anime crap.

4:55pm: Some kid who's in Speed Racer has come out. He is singing. elibalin: "Opening acts always suck."

Hey! New Batman trailer! Huge pop.

The actual panel members come out. Producer, ... and another producer?... and the Goddamn Frank, dressed in a black suit, fedora, and red tie--so I guess those posters are accurate, not just being dramatically B&W, and it won't be a blue suit. Blerg.

"Surprise guest" turns out to be Eva Mendes, who will be Sand Saref. Well, anything but Jessica Alba, say I.

The camera keeps staying on Eva, instead of whomever's talking. heh.

It seems clear to me that Miller does indeed have the utmost respect for Eisner's work, that he's perfectly genuine in this; and when he's talking about "modernizing", it's not necessarily wrong; but in HOW he's doing it, I think he is vastly, tragically missing the point. "Modernizing" does not mean "make it like a low-rent Sin City". Rather, it's what Darwyn Cooke did in actual comics format. I think this film is going to hurt a lot.

The teaser is not really anything more than what we see in the three-part poster. I grant that the very first shot of it is Eisneriffic, but everything after that smells way too much like Sin City.

5:45pm: Checking out. I missed JRjr at his booth and at Marvel; missed Johns; don't have anything to say to Morrison; too tired to stand in line for Van Sciver or Albequerque. Some good hall costumes--Hellboy, Mr. Freeze, a Batman, several Poison Ivys, Rorshach. And a non-costumed girl, regular street clothes, but with her head partially shaved to show that particular Spider tattoo. Also many terrible ones, from the painted-on Nightwing on down. But I have a sackful of immediately-post-Crisis Blue Beetles and Booster Golds, and Impulse: Reckless Youth, and JSA: Darkness Falls. And that's okay.

Have just planted an alyssum border in front (and done a bit of transplanting) and deadheaded the fading spring bulbs as part of Operation: Whited Sepulchre. I also cut some lilac and hyacinths to put inside the house.

Usually this would peg my happyometer at 11.

During our morning discussion of There Must Be A Music Scene Around Here Somewhere, Steve started playing me some mp3s of a band he's discovered called Sound of Urchin, who are locals, it seems. Me likey. They range between sounding sort of modern-alternative and good heavy crushing rock--weirdly schizophrenic. I do not mind this in the least.

They're playing in Philadelphia with the Butthole Surfers (!!!) at the end of June, and we are going to see if we can skip out that Friday to catch the show. I don't know if I'm grown-up enough to see Gibby Haynes in all his mad glory, but I want to find out.

First, let me thank everyone for the waves of loving support in email, IM, text messages, and phone calls. I haven't been able to respond to all of them yet, but I really appreciate each and every one. Thank you, one and all.

General Status Report: I'm doing tolerably well, all things considered. There are hours where I seem fine, and there are hours of emotional bereftitude with optional sides of wild crying jags, and there are in-between "get the job done" crisis management modes. Internally, I've learned a lot of things about myself, my priorities, and my desires in one extended shot. You see very clearly in the cold white light of nuclear detonation, I find. (Some of this enlightenment would have been of considerable value sooner, thank you so much, but that's why we are stupid humans, yes?) I'm still not making any major decisions--I'm giving myself time to process this new understanding, and see how it will integrate into my wider world. And some decisions won't depend on me, anyways.

We are going to talk to a realtor next week about putting the house on the market; further plans & schedules will in part depend on that advice. However, we are opening the pool, and even intend to have the usual Memorial Day party. Why not, indeed? Gather ye rosebuds and grilled MEAT!~ while ye may, etc. If you've lent us stuff, this would probably a good time to come reclaim it, hint hint.

dariodevil is now installed at nedlnthred's home for wayward cats, and naudia will be shifting to Brian's (though at present, she is down with a touch of pneumonia).

That's all the immediate news I can think of. More as it comes in.

I did not have a lot of mental whee today (oh ya think?) so I did 5/3/8/3/5 again, as the path of least resistance. I went slower in the middle section, and therefore ended in better physical order than last week--I'm somewhat torn between increasing speed and increasing length of runs; opinions are solicited. I felt slightly ill/nauseous during, but I'm pretty sure that's due to Crimson Tide, not anything specifically exercise-related.

Weights tomorrow, unless there is lunch with arkham1010 or an appointment with the college counseling service.

I put on ~4lbs on vacation (of which I've lost 1.5), but looking at my chart, it seems that this was mostly weight that I dropped while sick and not eating immediately before we left. So I didn't really lose ground, as it were. That's vaguely comforting.

The entire campus area is crawling with security forces, because the Pope is speaking at the synagogue down the block in mere moments. This puts two things in my mind (other than "getting to the subway is going to be a fucking circus"), to wit:

1) the Call of Cthulhu game we played in at Arisia, where the Pope turned out to be a creature of the Great Old Ones;

2) the disturbed stares from other passengers who can't help looking over your shoulder at the pretty pictures, when I was reading Transmetropolitan on the subway this morning--specifically the story where Spider casts out the money-grubbers from the temple.

It seems that this year we are hosting the Information Ethics Roundtable. First talk is about the Verizon vs. RIAA kerfluffle, for instance.

Free, and open to anyone (who registers).

Look, it's an icon for running! Hooray.

Got back in the saddle after, what, three weeks off? between vacation and illness. I was pretty sure I should not just pick up from where I left off, but hadn't much of a notion how far back I should set myself. Therefore, winged it with random numbers: 7 minutes running, 4 walking, 9 running. YAY RANDOMNESS. (This does not include warm-up or cool-down periods, of course.) I ended up a little bit winded, with the tiny tubercular cough I get in such cases, but otherwise feel pretty good. Ask me again in the morning, I guess.

And then, the weights:
modified shoulder press, 1.5 reps of 10 at 3#. I should maybe go back down to 2#.
lateral shoulder elbow wossname, 2 reps of 10 at 1#.
lateral pull-down, 2 reps of 10 at 25#.

(The assisted dip/chin-up machine was being hogged, so I passed. I was already getting sore, anyways.)

I weeded the front flower bed this afternoon, while the chicken and cauliflower were roasting. (And as usual, got caught up and lost track of time; caulif. is slightly overcooked, chicken is okay.)

I have daffs! Also some hyacinths. But I don't have enough, still. And I need to plot out what to do with the thing once the bulbs fade. I have a pile of naturalized hearts-ease, but it just sort of comes up in random patches; there needs to be a more organized spine to the thing, also with taller plants.

Another series of glorious escapades with the modern airline industry, including a sprint with 30lb. of gear through LAX (which teaches me a few things about the relative use of "jogging" vs "jogging with field pack", let me add). We did not, at least, miss the connector this time. Barely.

Iz can be sleep tiem nao plz.