Matter, meet anti-matter.
In news of the slightly odd, there's a muggle news article out there on Charlotte Lennox and (as Lola called it) l'affaire msscribe, and it's by someone I know. Or, rather, knew long ago- I was friends with her in the mid-80s. Her name is Anna, and we worked together as temps not too long after graduating from our respective colleges. We hung out quite a bit for a year or so. I remember a lot about her- that she was from Vermont and had hippie parents, that she went to a boarding school, and various things she said about that; I remember her boyfriend's medical malpractice suit, related to a messed up leg or knee, and how they spent 6 months in Provence on the takings; I remember their drive cross country in which they kept eating the hottest chili they could find and then suffering the consequences, retailed in a somewhat TMI manner. I remember her collection of Nick Cave on cassette, and consuming Guns n' Roses and Andrew Dice Clay on her tv- in a strictly ironic manner, of course.
Anna and I had another friend, from that same workplace, who ended up getting a hiscon ('history of consciousness') PhD from Santa Cruz. At the time we all knew each other, I felt more connected to Anna, but it was California Acadyke I stayed in touch with longer. I don't think I've thought about Anna for more than a minute at a time in the last 15 years. And now, here she is, reporting on HP wank for whatever segment of the world reads her online magazine.
Of course, this is relatively small potatoes, in the "worlds colliding" department, compared with the fact that Ray Vecchio (Dave Marciano) was a friend of mine in college. Almost no one there treated him like he had a snowball's chance in hell of ever acting for a living, and then he wound up being the only one to make it at all. Good for him. He was a good guy, and I'm sorry because I've heard (and believe) he doesn't like the slash thing. But mostly it's just impossibly surreal to sit in a slash con (e.g.), 25 years later, surrounded by a small, highly idiosyncratic society of geeks, watching clip after clip of Dave. It's as if there were actually only about 10,000 people in the world. Instead of 6 billion.
Anna and I had another friend, from that same workplace, who ended up getting a hiscon ('history of consciousness') PhD from Santa Cruz. At the time we all knew each other, I felt more connected to Anna, but it was California Acadyke I stayed in touch with longer. I don't think I've thought about Anna for more than a minute at a time in the last 15 years. And now, here she is, reporting on HP wank for whatever segment of the world reads her online magazine.
Of course, this is relatively small potatoes, in the "worlds colliding" department, compared with the fact that Ray Vecchio (Dave Marciano) was a friend of mine in college. Almost no one there treated him like he had a snowball's chance in hell of ever acting for a living, and then he wound up being the only one to make it at all. Good for him. He was a good guy, and I'm sorry because I've heard (and believe) he doesn't like the slash thing. But mostly it's just impossibly surreal to sit in a slash con (e.g.), 25 years later, surrounded by a small, highly idiosyncratic society of geeks, watching clip after clip of Dave. It's as if there were actually only about 10,000 people in the world. Instead of 6 billion.