Andy Returns to PCC
My brother goes back to Pensacola Concentration Camp tomorrow. Because my responsibilities to two conventions happened to overwhelm me the past few weeks, I've hardly seen him during his Christmas break. I just got an e-mail asking if I can still bring over Monty Python and the Holy Grail and watch it with him tonight as I had suggested two weeks ago. Can words describe the many different feelings that this e-mail rouses in me?
Love. Andy is one of My People. He is like me and his life is following the same path. He is not like our parents or their church. He does not belong at PCC. I love him. I musn't cry at work...
Rage. He wants to watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail with me on the eve of descending into the maw of the youth-stifling machine. It's like a last meal. This poetic contrast evokes rage at PCC, that another closet proto-fan is smothering in it as I did. I musn't cry at work...
Grief. It is with despondency almost to the point of grieving that I have decided to eat as short a dinner as possible with the Concom and GoHs, transfer the publications to someone, and skip the gathering afterward. I loved the Thursday night before ConFusion so much last year. I met and chatted with Robert Sawyer about handheld computers and I didn't even know who I was talking to. I sat with Eric Raymond and Bruce Sterling listening to them banter. If you know those two, ponder that concept in your mind. It was an unforgettable night and the highlight of the convention. My place is with someone else tonight. I musn't cry at work...
Love. Andy is one of My People. He is like me and his life is following the same path. He is not like our parents or their church. He does not belong at PCC. I love him. I musn't cry at work...
Rage. He wants to watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail with me on the eve of descending into the maw of the youth-stifling machine. It's like a last meal. This poetic contrast evokes rage at PCC, that another closet proto-fan is smothering in it as I did. I musn't cry at work...
Grief. It is with despondency almost to the point of grieving that I have decided to eat as short a dinner as possible with the Concom and GoHs, transfer the publications to someone, and skip the gathering afterward. I loved the Thursday night before ConFusion so much last year. I met and chatted with Robert Sawyer about handheld computers and I didn't even know who I was talking to. I sat with Eric Raymond and Bruce Sterling listening to them banter. If you know those two, ponder that concept in your mind. It was an unforgettable night and the highlight of the convention. My place is with someone else tonight. I musn't cry at work...