So, a few weeks ago, Jason forwarded this email to me. The producers of a show wanted talking heads, especially science fiction writers, to come to a studio and babble about Halo 3. Jason couldn’t do it ’cause he was at a conference in Portland, and Ken was at the same conference. Could I do it?
I’m always torn whenever someone from the UAE adds me as a friend on Flickr or when someone from Brazil pings me on Orkutt. On the one hand, hey, someone from the other side of the world, cool. On the other, I’m just a pawn in some bizarre game of I Have More Friends Than You. Do I contact these people to find out why they want me as a friend/contact/follow? Or just block their asses in a fit of refusing to be someone’s number? What do you do?
…has it always been like this? Have clients always been an unbelievable pain in the ass? When the first turd merchants slithered out of the primordial muck to sell their wares, did they run into some bastard who said, ‘No, I’m sorry, but these turds aren’t brown enough’?”
The sun is shining, the tomato plants are full, and the Israeli kids next door are whining and crying.
Yes, it’s good to be home and find that nothing’s changed.
Exhausted. Full of curry. Ready to come home. That’s the problem with trying to do travelogues: you do so much that when you have time to update, you’re too damn tired.
All panels were excellent, and I feel lucky as hell to have talked about blogging, virtual worlds and the future of searching for ponies on the internet. Made some new friends, passed around a lot of business cards, and the food. Did I mention the food? Good God, I wish we could stay just to keep eating.
But I’m ready to see the garden bloom, eat the last of the tomatoes, and get back on the bike. See you in eighteen hours, Los Angeles!
