Lot’s to tell . . .
SLIP ‘N SLIDE PARTY
The slip n’ slide party went swimmingly. Fun was had by all. We all had cuts and bruises and cuts on our bruises and bruises in fourth dimensional places that cannot be seen by mere man (though Rod Serling may have been able to).
“Submitted for your consideration . . . a couple of brothers dressed as pirates. Bedeviled by a brown-locked beauty, they allow themselves to be subjected to copious applications of eyeliner and fall, head first . . . . into The Androgynous Pirate Zone . . .
“I’m Rod Serling . . . and if I could, I would make physical love to my own voice. I mean it. I would fornicate madly with my voice box. Hearing myself talk, just a syllable, causes an instant and irrevocable erection. In fact, the entire run of The Twilight Zone is just one long orgy between me and my voice, nestled between gremlins and ghosts and time warps . . . and occasionally William Shatner was there.”
By the bye, pictures of the party are posted at the end of this transmission. The party went late (as they do). We all drank a lot (nobody got sick) and we did a lot of late night sliding. My Dad provided some impossible feats of card manipulation . . . and we had at least four kinds of rum flowing. One thing I did learn in the experience . . . I liked having eyeliner on, maybe a little too much.
TWILIGHT ZONE TO TWILIGHT TALES
The Monday before last, I went to an open mic reading of the TWILIGHT TALES group (a writing/publishing group of strange and macabre tales that does readings and events, every Monday, at the RED LION PUB). I read “Teddy Bear Rex.” Everyone seemed to like it – some very enthusiastically so. I think it’s a good crowd for my stuff and plan on making that an every Monday kind of a thing (the beer garden has a nice atmosphere). Chicagoland folk should come on down too.
THE GODFATHER, THE GEEKS, AND THE GROSS DEMENTIA
“What is going on with the WHITE WOLF CONTEST?” I keep getting asked. Let me tell you of my weekend . . .
Last week, I visited GENENDA, (who is now about to begin her career as a full time teacher, give her a wish of luck) down in Southern IL – brining various odds and ends and furnishings, taking up space in our garage, to help fill out her new apartment.
Thursday, I get an email from my editor/contest coordinator at White Wolf telling me that the contest is taking longer than expected (I can understand that . . . with five full novels to judge) and that it will hopefully be decided on soon. He also invited us finalists to stop on by the White Wolf booth at GEN-CON (a gaming convention in Indianapolis) and say hi, if we happened to be there. He said he’d even score us some tickets to the White Wolf party on Saturday night.
Happen to be there? I hadn’t planned on it. I’d driven from Northern IL to Southern IL with plans to be in Central IL come the weekend for my soon-to-be Goddaughter’s baptism. But here was an opportunity to go over the flesh-press-face-to-face rituals and put faces to tames with heads of a company of possible employment . . . and publishing.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, one aspect of happiness, for me, is NOT KNOWING WHERE I’LL BE TOMORROW.
So . . . I made a bee-line to Indianapolis on Friday night. In the AM hours of Staturday, I tracked down some fellow game-geek friends (you can count of a few people you know being at this thing) and snagged a space to sleep on the floor of the room of the most hospitable, most loyal, KEN.
I slept a couple of hours. I rose. I caffeinated. I entered Gen-Con. There was much of the strange, much of the bizarre, something of the wonderful . . . and not a little of that which might cause others to proclaim, “Geeky.” Mustering a lucid moment of consciousness, I met with my would-be editor (fingers crossed) at the White Wolf booth. We talked a bit. He gave me the ticket to the party.
I spent the rest of the day, in various stages of consciousness – seeing the sights and collecting as many company business cards as I could (I figure I might as well start submitting writing samples and look for work).
Night fell. My brother drove all the way down to bring me newly printed business cards, writing samples, and magic tricks (you never know . . . and they make the ultimate ice breakers). So we entered the club.
The club, if I remember was called Club Industry or the Industry Club. It looked like something a vampire would walk into . . . or the last fight of the Highlander would happen in – all bent, black steel and giant, industrial fans and girls dancing in cages. You know that scene in the beginning of Blade, right before the blood rains down from the sprinklers? Yeah . . . In fact, the DJ played the techno music from that scene . . .
Different party, different time . . . but here’s a couple of pics from one of White Wolf’s parties in the same place. You get the idea.
Nick and I talked again, with my gracious White Wolf contact, Stewart Wieck. We got to talk about some of what has just been released by the company, including my one purchase at the Con: PROMETHEAN.
Afterward, we met up with some friends at the Con and ran into a friend I’ve known since grade school, but haven’t seen or heard from in five years.
Right. Back to my place on the floor. I slept another two hours. Woke up to a horrid battery acid burn that started in my stomach and ran up my throat (I think all the ingested caffeine had destroyed my stomach and caused some kind of acid reflux nastiness).
I drove to Central IL. I really shouldn’t have been behind the wheel. Normal thoughts were hard. I haulucinated a couple of times. But I did make it, just in time. I changed into a suit in the bathroom of a Catholic church, went into mass, and, after that, participated in the baptism of my adorable Goddaughter, Reese Nicole Glass.
So, by weekend’s end, I was a Godfather. I’m very excited – even more so than I expected to be (and I expected to be). After all, it’s not just an important, milestone obligation and responsibility . . . it’s also a fantastic excuse to go trick or treating in the not too distant future. After the ceremony, I talked with Jearmie’s Dad a bit, as well as the rest of the family . . . then I passed out on their couch for . . . I have no idea how long/short. Then I drove back home.
Sunday night, I slept for 13 straight hours.
AND NOW, without further preamble, here are the promised pics from the Slip N’ Slide Party.
To start out with . . . I think this should be a Captain Morgan Ad.
Everyone’s got it wrong – Blonds + Brunettes are more fun.
And here we have my prized rum tray/display. Complete with copious varieties of rum, other libations, a pirate hook and my very own skull/spinal beer bong (we call him Byron).
And a quick rum check before th eparty starts . . .
We tried to recruit Skippy into the pirate crew . . . but he was reluctant.
Nick, the pirate.
And Joshua the pirate (er . . . me).
Genenda plays with my snake (it should be dually noted that I, an English Master, have yet to find a way to converse about Lenore, the snake, without it sounding dirty . . . so why struggle).
Pirate sandwich anyone???
A little tribal idol overlooks the proceedings.
Oh beware the artificial parrot in the light-up palm tree, for he has shifty eyes.
A Still Life of Steve and Beer
“Josh, do you ever go in front of a camera with a normal face?”
“Does Superman ever go into battle with a necklace of Kryptonite around his neck?”
At last, night falls, and the gathering revelers, fueled by fiery libations of rum and the mysterious concoction that Nick calls Pirate Punch . . . are ready for the sliding to commence!
Nick inspects the slide.
The slide, in all of its torch-lit glory (our largest one to date).
“Calling all Slip-n-Sliders!”
The scene of the crime.
And they’re off!!!
Nick and Steve decide, for science, to suit up and try taking a raft, with oars, down the slide (alcohol convinces them that this is a good idea).
And where did the night go from here? Tune in next post, for the second half of the party pics. See what horrible fate befell me. See what everyone looks like waking up the next day. See where Nick woke up . . .