![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Norwescon bits and pieces
An artist named Ruth Peterson had a perfect little ink-wash of the back of a sleeping cat. Titled "Totally Oblivious". Sadly for me, it was bid to the auction.
I guess cats are sfnal as Patrick O'Brian is.
Much of the art was, to my eye, painful -- you know, the hyperglossy
babes and dragons. Oh well. Meat/poison.
No space to park in the hotel lot, or for a ways up 99. A guy at WallyPark tipped me to a self-pay lot back towards the hotel. That one was full, but the next one wasn't. Bought a roll of Mentos in the gas station to get change to put in the pay-envelope.
Met![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jeliza and seanmcguire for a bit.
The panels I went to were underwhelming. Vinge was the only good thing about the Singularity panel, but (or because) he uttered several orders of magnitude fewer words than other speakers. Too many panels with "don't be a big dope" advice about the publishing industry, though some amusing stories. On the up side, everything with Jane Yolen involved was good.
You can make fascinating rippling patterns out of the reflections of ceiling lights from the water in a plastic cup.
I was sort of good; I bought only one book, but on the other hand it wasn't stunningly cheap. A copy of William and Elizabeth Friedman's The Shakespearean Ciphers Examined, signed by them. And I felt I was going a good deed in buying it by interrupting the one-way conversation the bookseller had found himself mm-hming his way through with a retired Navy intelligence analyst explaining how the moon was hollow, it was a simple matter of seismographic fact, hence an artificial construct, and to what end, I ask you, to what sinister end? Anyway, he also had a copy of The Codebreakers and of Ignatius Donnelly's The Great Cryptogram; he showed me the fold-out of Donnelly's markup on a page of Shakespeare, like a cloud of flies in many colors.
There were only two real used-book dealers there, side by side, and I talked with them as I intersected my list with their list to yield the null set. Hard-to-find books, touching up ex-libs, the Carnegie libraries. I sold them both on Garth Nix by virtue of the mountain-delving library in Lirael (into whose deeper levels librarians go only in armed bands).
Somebody's wire wing-tip gave me a nice slash to the neck, but didn't draw blood.
Around nine or ten I was exhausted and had a distracting headache, so I headed home. And ate dinner (leftover khanom jeen), which helped, since I'd had a roll of Mentos since breakfast.
I guess cats are sfnal as Patrick O'Brian is.
Much of the art was, to my eye, painful -- you know, the hyperglossy
babes and dragons. Oh well. Meat/poison.
No space to park in the hotel lot, or for a ways up 99. A guy at WallyPark tipped me to a self-pay lot back towards the hotel. That one was full, but the next one wasn't. Bought a roll of Mentos in the gas station to get change to put in the pay-envelope.
Met
jeliza and seanmcguire for a bit.The panels I went to were underwhelming. Vinge was the only good thing about the Singularity panel, but (or because) he uttered several orders of magnitude fewer words than other speakers. Too many panels with "don't be a big dope" advice about the publishing industry, though some amusing stories. On the up side, everything with Jane Yolen involved was good.
You can make fascinating rippling patterns out of the reflections of ceiling lights from the water in a plastic cup.
I was sort of good; I bought only one book, but on the other hand it wasn't stunningly cheap. A copy of William and Elizabeth Friedman's The Shakespearean Ciphers Examined, signed by them. And I felt I was going a good deed in buying it by interrupting the one-way conversation the bookseller had found himself mm-hming his way through with a retired Navy intelligence analyst explaining how the moon was hollow, it was a simple matter of seismographic fact, hence an artificial construct, and to what end, I ask you, to what sinister end? Anyway, he also had a copy of The Codebreakers and of Ignatius Donnelly's The Great Cryptogram; he showed me the fold-out of Donnelly's markup on a page of Shakespeare, like a cloud of flies in many colors.
There were only two real used-book dealers there, side by side, and I talked with them as I intersected my list with their list to yield the null set. Hard-to-find books, touching up ex-libs, the Carnegie libraries. I sold them both on Garth Nix by virtue of the mountain-delving library in Lirael (into whose deeper levels librarians go only in armed bands).
Somebody's wire wing-tip gave me a nice slash to the neck, but didn't draw blood.
Around nine or ten I was exhausted and had a distracting headache, so I headed home. And ate dinner (leftover khanom jeen), which helped, since I'd had a roll of Mentos since breakfast.
no subject
And after all that, you still came to anagram things with us. Thank you.