The Whirlwind Week
First there was the Plot Synopsis plot (department of redundancy department, that). Following immediately upon turning in my contribution to that came 2 days spent in the company of the great, mad, infamous, and brilliant T.C. Boyle, during which large quantities of beer and sake were consumed, much woodland walked in, conversations unfolded both current (referring to Der Fuehrer Bush) and nostalgic (referring to olden days at the University of Iowa). Meanwhile 3 German fellows of extraordinary character filmed much of these goings on for a documentary for the Arte network in France and Germany. I should be a household name in Munich, oh, any minute now...
Immediately Mr. Boyle was whisked off to the airport, I set off in torrential weather to the northlands, where I spent the evening listening to the great Brian Auger and his Oblivion Express. Auger, now referred to as the "Godfather of Acid Jazz", represents a singular paradigm shift in my own relationship to music via one LP called "Streetnoise" from back in the day. It featured his band, the Trinity, and the amazing Julie "Jools" Driscoll, whose voice could slither and grind and slide. Jools left Auger and the Trinity after that milestone to make avant garde music with her husband Keith Tippett, and only teamed up one more time after that with Auger for a reunion album. I'd been desirous of seeing Mr. Auger perform for many many years, so this was what we'd call a big event for me. The drive home proved almost as perilous as the downpour, but all parties survived, even the Mini.
Then,after a few hours of sleep, it was off to cloudy, rainy Florida at some unspeakable hour for the International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts, where I read some, listened to many people smarter than I, took a lot of notes, and swam in a pool while the rain came down. The conference included such notables as John Kessel, Guy Gavriel Kay, James Patrick Kelly, James Morrow, Rick Wilber (whose reading of his memoir, My Father's Game, proved a high point), Farah Mendelsohn, Joe Haldeman, Elizabeth Hand, John Clute, Helen Pilinovsky, Andy and Sydney Duncan...sorry, it's a long list, with far too many stars in its firmament. It was a grand time.
And now I have a head cold to make up for all that good fun, am all but dowsing myself in Nyquil, and will shortly return to the land of nepenthe. But not THAT much nepenthe.
gf out
Immediately Mr. Boyle was whisked off to the airport, I set off in torrential weather to the northlands, where I spent the evening listening to the great Brian Auger and his Oblivion Express. Auger, now referred to as the "Godfather of Acid Jazz", represents a singular paradigm shift in my own relationship to music via one LP called "Streetnoise" from back in the day. It featured his band, the Trinity, and the amazing Julie "Jools" Driscoll, whose voice could slither and grind and slide. Jools left Auger and the Trinity after that milestone to make avant garde music with her husband Keith Tippett, and only teamed up one more time after that with Auger for a reunion album. I'd been desirous of seeing Mr. Auger perform for many many years, so this was what we'd call a big event for me. The drive home proved almost as perilous as the downpour, but all parties survived, even the Mini.
Then,after a few hours of sleep, it was off to cloudy, rainy Florida at some unspeakable hour for the International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts, where I read some, listened to many people smarter than I, took a lot of notes, and swam in a pool while the rain came down. The conference included such notables as John Kessel, Guy Gavriel Kay, James Patrick Kelly, James Morrow, Rick Wilber (whose reading of his memoir, My Father's Game, proved a high point), Farah Mendelsohn, Joe Haldeman, Elizabeth Hand, John Clute, Helen Pilinovsky, Andy and Sydney Duncan...sorry, it's a long list, with far too many stars in its firmament. It was a grand time.
And now I have a head cold to make up for all that good fun, am all but dowsing myself in Nyquil, and will shortly return to the land of nepenthe. But not THAT much nepenthe.
gf out