Wizardly Secrets
Speaking about her books at Carnegie Hall in New York, J.K. Rowling filled fan fiction writers everywhere with glee when she outed Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.
Hapana.com and news.yahoo.com both report: Rowling said she “always thought Dumbledore was gay” and that he originally fell in love with the wizard Grindelwald.
Dumbledore’s orientation isn’t a factor in the plots of the books, so it doesn’t change much for me, though I’m pleased at the additional glimpse of his character. Anyone else have thoughts?
A VTSFFC Party, Day One
It turns out that a 5-hour drive in a Mini Cooper is a lot more comfortable than you’d think. In the front seat, anyway.
Dwight introduced me to a bunch of very good music. I’m going to have to look up some more material by the Dresden Dolls and the Supreme Beings of Leisure. The company was excellent and the scenery compelling (and the leaves haven’t even turned yet!)
We arrived in Blacksburg, picked up shrewlet, and wandered into Invisifest around 4, into a panel that tltrent was hosting. I was knocked over by my welcome; my VTSFFC family is one excellent bunch of folk, who really know how to make a guy feel like he’s where he belongs. I caught up with rattrap, nius, rainbowsaber, mephox, anterus, southernsinger, rubinpdf, Cathy, Ben, Jamie, and many other people. Around six, we had to shut down the panel, but we dragged most of the crowd to Macado’s, where Pat and I geeked out over Whovian matters while we waited for our food.
There was a brief attempt at handing Technicon 25 over to me, which I discuss a little more over in my lifestyle filter (if you want to be added to that and haven’t been, leave a comment here to that effect). Suffice it to say that their idea would have made for a quite memorable TCon, and that I turned down the kind offer. Rapidly. Possibly in nanoseconds 🙂
We went back to the ‘Fest for Keith’s White Plectrum concert, which was a small, laughter-filled performance. Keith paid me high compliments by telling the story of how “Red Pill” was written. For those who asked, the throwaway line which inspired “When They Shut Down The Fusion Plant (We’ll Pack Our Bags And Glow)” is found in Music From the Heart of Space, a Starfleet: Batron Eleven fanfic which includes elements of Doctor Who, Robotech: Macross, and Megazone 23. Despite that mashup, I’m still rather proud of the tale, which will always live on in some small manner thanks to Jerry’s twisted creative mind.
We had to leave shortly afterwards. I wish I’d had the energy to stay all night and party, but I have a wedding to attend tomorrow!
By Klono’s carballoy claws!
I love E.E. “Doc” Smith’s Lensman series. Many of the reasons why I love it are succinctly expressed in the comments to this other user’s LJ entry, in which jordan179 discusses all the SF cliches that Smith practically invented.
One of my favorite comments to the entry is: “When I read a lot of modern science fiction of the “doomed to disaster” variety, I often think that what the characters in the story need is an E. E. “Doc” Smith or John W. Campbell Engineer-Hero to come along and knock the problem on its head a few times.” I talked about this in my “zombie horror” entry. Too many SF / Fantasy characters these days have already given up, and won’t even try to do something about the horrible situation they’re in.
This lead me to the following link: “The Doom that Came to Necropolis”. Imagine a Cthulhu Mythos story starring a square-jawed man of Science! who won’t be cowed by shadows in the dark…
Funeral scribbling
Got back last night from Salem / Roanoke. rhaps and shrewlet let us stay overnight at their place with no notice, and Rhaps even came down to the service on Friday. I’m really glad, too because it was one more familiar face for raininva, and I think that meant much to her.
Dad thought highly of both Rain and Starr, and I felt they should both be there. The family proved their great class by welcoming and supporting them both; I don’t know if I’ve even been prouder to be an O’Brien. Beth, Cathy, Benny and Jamie (old-guard Batron Starfleeters) showed up for the public reception on Thursday too. Interestingly, time_shark‘s name came up a few times, as it turns out that my dad and my dad’s dad knew Nelson Bond’s family pretty well, and I got to reminiscing with some of the Bonds and their friends about the Showtimers and the southwest Virginian fiction community.
My father was involved in fascinating stuff I never even heard about, stuff I can’t even talk about here. There was a long stretch of my life where I wasn’t close to the man, but I thought I had a pretty good idea who he was and what he got up to. I was right in some ways, and completely wrong in others. I wonder what else I missed?
My sister Whitney, of whom you’ve heard me talk almost nothing here because we too have been somewhat out-of-touch, asked me to be a pallbearer. I was honored, and I’m not sure I could have been talked out of at least trying… but this may have been the stupidest testosterone-induced promise I’ve ever made. I’m not supposed to lift over 25 pounds since the hip surgery; to be fair, I violate this on occasion, but usually with discretion. I strained several muscles, and nearly fell over once. Thank goodness no one said anything. At least I did no actual damage to myself.
Whitney’s one-year-old daughter Kennedy was with her for the two Thursday receptions. Baby singing and the throw-the-toy-on-the-floor game was exactly what I needed that day. Everytime the walls started to close in, I’d just look at Kennedy’s innocently quizzical expression, and things got a tiny bit better.
Friday on the way home, I stopped by my Mom’s, and she and Starr and I grabbed some lunch. While trying to dig up some Tintin comics I wanted to re-read, I found my old I.P.M.S. award for the Ether Flyer Thunderchild model, as well as some Pathfinder group shots and another portion of my dice collection. I can’t believe how much of my life is still at Kentland. I despair of fully sorting through it.
This too, is a bit rambly, but I’m getting closer to my center again. Tried to do a little fiction today, but the headspace isn’t there, and I’m determined to write something. I don’t have the luxury that a Conan Doyle character would of six months of “brain fever”. Bills gotta be paid, chores gotta be done, and life goes on.
And on a crass note, Dad was going to take care of my Dragon*Con travel for me. This isn’t an entitlement whine, but a note that I don’t have a Plan B yet. We’ll have to see what I can work out.
Short fiction for today
This morning I read When Sysadmins Ruled the Earth, by Cory Doctorow, linked to me by wilwheaton‘s syndicated LJ feed.
The last two paragraphs hit me hard, and I honestly needed a few minutes to recover. ‘Cause geez, I’ve suspected for some time that the secret to life, the universe, and everything is hiding right there.
Strong stuff.
Zombie HORROR!!
Yesterday, of course, was ‘blog like it’s the end of the world’ day. Several people I know were caught a bit off guard, especially when reading the better-written entries. I’m interested that most of the zombiepocalypse bloggers posted as if they expected to survive all this, and with convincing feeling rather than easy melodrama. Frankly, this was more fun than NaNoWriMo as far as I’m concerned.
But I wrote in mine about ‘going mad’ with the shock of what’s happening. I tried to imagine the other day a horrific event that would ‘drive me mad’. There’s not a lot I can imagine – I mean, I can imagine being terrified, sickened, appalled, but not driven insane by an event. The very sight of Cthulhu was supposed to do this, or the reading of his forbidden books; but I suspect that had more to do with the awful realization that such things could exist in a universe of which we’d pridefully assumed we were the supreme center.
Last week I read about a story involving a 100-foot-long house with a 110-foot-long hallway inside!!! For a while, i thought that might be my road – how would my scientific, skeptical mind embrace this physical impossibility? It might DRIVE ME MAD!
But maybe not. I have a built-in error-protection routine for these situations, which is to simply say “There’s something going on here that I don’t understand.” If I “know” that you can’t fit 110 feet of corridor in 100 feet of domicile, but I am forced by the evidence of my own measuring tape to concede that that’s what seems to be happening, I don’t need to shriek “That’s IMPOSSIBLE!” and run from the building, I need only admit that I can’t explain this, and start looking for answers.
A zombie can scare me, might consume me, but can’t make me admit there isn’t an explanation somewhere 🙂
The End of the World
I’ve got to write something about the Uprising. I’ve got to keep my head or it’s all lost. Everything may be lost anyway, but if I freak out, then everything’s definitely over for me.
I’ve never been able to get into a zombie movie… I know too much biology. Well, I’m in one now, and I’ve got to keep my mind occupied. How are their muscles moving without a blood supply? How can they have a blood supply with an unbeating heart? Their tissues are rotting, their bones are crumbling – how can they move at all?
Okay… their bones are holding them up, and their muscles are producing force. Something has repaired them at least that well. Niven suggested a strange symbiotic plague in “Night on Mispec Moor”, but why would they rise from the grave all at once if there were various plague infections?
Evil spirits? The Devil’s work? Angry ancient voodoo houngans? As near as I can find out – the cable channels aren’t much use right now – the risen are impartial in their attacks. If this is an act of revenge, it’s on all humanity.
This is what I know. This is coordinated by someone or something with the power to make rotten human tissue functional again.
—–
I may go mad, but I’m physically okay right now. They moved us all from the NASA side to the Air Force side as soon as possible, and well-armed soldiers are proving effective for the moment. I can’t contact anyone else… land lines are clogged, cell lines are clogged, and e-mails / IMs to my friends and family seem to be going to /dev/null. I will check my Friends page again shortly to see if anyone’s blogged about this.
Feeling a little like Dr. Clayton Forrester right now – trapped in the research lab while the destroyers of humanity knock on the door, and the refugee hordes demand what few resources we have. Perhaps the common cold will save us as well. I’m not sure what else will.
What the hell could be behind this?
On the way to work…
The cat, as always, is trying to get me to stay home this morning.
I am going to attempt to reach level 60 in WoW by the end of the week. I’m at 58.5 now, and this will probably involve questing and grinding in either a) Winterspring or b) Hellfire Peninsula. The XP per monster seems to be better at option (b), but I do run the risk of virtual-30-foot level 64 monsters wandering by, noticing my little gnome, and one-shotting her. Apparently, some guy in France made level 70 in less than 30 hours from release date (apparently by tagging monsters for kill credit, and letting several friends who ‘happened’ to be standing nearby Alpha Strike the poor critter)
There were lines from “The Princess Bride” flying around the office yesterday. I think that Prince Humperdinck is one of the best villians in fantasy; he’s smart, skilled, capable, is surrounded by competent, loyal minons, and his evil plan would have worked great were it not that the good guys were even more smart, skilled, and capable. I hate it when, as is usual, the villain’s really an idiot whose plan is eventually going to fail one way or another (what was Lex Luthor’s plan in “Superman Returns” really going to net him? A continent of un-arable blackened crystal and lotsa dead bodies? Whoop-de-doo).
That’s right up there with the storytelling sin of having the hero escape the villain’s fatal challenges by blind luck and the skin of his teeth, and then having the villain declare, “Welcome, Mr. Hero! Your presence here is the final element in my master scheme!” and I immediately think “Well, what the hell were you going to do if the sharks had gotten him? Retire?” (And don’t tell me that the villain was counting on the hero surviving the deathtraps – if the hero’s that competent, then he’s still a threat to the Master Scheme.)
I play lead for “Rocketship X”
Guitar Hero II arrived in my house this week, thanks to the lovely raininva‘s observance of my birthday. Now, I haven’t had a lot of free time on my hands, and even my gaming is scheduled by priority these days, but ya gotta take some time out of the day to hold a plastic guitar in your hands and rock out to Cheap Trick, The Pretenders, and David Bowie. (I think some of our guests approved more of the Motley Crue and Danzig tracks, though.)
The game’s got a bit more realism than I’d like, though – Rain and I are developing blisters on our fret and strumming fingers.
The book – very little going on. I worked out some background changes to my universe which will allow for more sensible plotting and better conflict, but I’m still not real sure what the ending’s going to be. Clearly, this isn’t going to be done by the end of the month, but then I’m not that worried; I never expected it to. (The base universe is one I created round about 6th grade. It’s weird making changes to something that’s been mostly static in my head for 20-odd years.)
I have several episodes of Torchwood in my hands, but I haven’t finished watching the 2006 Doctor Who season – in fact, as of last night, I’m behind the SciFi Channel’s broadcast (it’s sitting on the DVR). Since I’m reliably informed that the series opener of Torchwood spoils much of the end of the Doctor Who season, this means I’ll have to wait a while longer to get my Captain Jack fix.
Apparently, Rising Star went extremely well this year. Kudos to Cathy and all how worked so hard to pull it off. I think many excellent decisions were made this year, and it bodes well for the future of the con.
I’m burning DVD data discs tonight in a desperate attempt to find clear space on my hard drives.
