Wasn't That a Party

[akirlu]

Back from 4th Street. Weeeehooo. I had a fine time.

Convention photography is tricky -- busy backgrounds, crappy lighting, lots of blocked sightlines -- and I'm not especially good at it, but I have posted a few of my less sucky pictures over at my Flickr account and you can find your way there by clicking through the picture above. (If you are featured in one of the pictures and would like me to take it down, please let me know -- I'm happy to do it.)



I think I've lost the art of con reporting, if indeed I ever had it. Let me give you an impressionistic schmoo, instead.

I am made of win because I knew of a cool-weird food thing that Singer didn't. Yay me. If it's distilled cloudberry vinegar, I must send him some. The finely-chopped ceviche-like, mango-and-lemon-and-fishy-bits sushi thing served on little lettuce leaves was possibly worth the entire trip, let alone the sushi expotition. My god. I thought I was full until that plate showed up. I've already forgotten the name of the Japanese mintoid thing that adds the last zip, but I will hunt it down and plant it in my yard.

There is at least one chord change in the chorus for "Air" without which it works less well. Rats. Need to prep the open source chorus better next time.

The mots bons were more or less endless. Wish I could remember some. Still, the criticism that the program was entirely Steve Brust's personal clique all the time was not, I think, a wholly unjust one. The upside to that monoculture was the reliable abundance of funny, clever, thoughtful people on all the panels. But they were exactly the same funny, clever, thoughtful people presented in a narrow band of permutations over and over again. Not for a moment do I want to suggest that the program should have been stuffed with tedious, tendentious, dull people, just, you know, let's not see the same hands all the time. In fairness, after the second or third time someone on the panel bemoaned that Lesley Hall really should be on the Food, Fashion & Fornication panel, and I used my outside voice to suggest, "Well, PUT her ON the panel," they did that thing. And I would not for a moment wish to suggest that anyone in Steve Brust's personal coterie is not funny, clever, or thoughtful enough to merit that much repetition.

While I'm on the subject of program: I think there was too much emphasis on the process and experience of writing fiction, and not nearly enough on reading, interpreting, and locating fantasy, given that it's a fantasy con. Me, I enjoyed the hell out of all that writers' workshoppy stuff -- it's just up my alley right now -- but I don't think it's what the convention purports to be about, or if so, I misunderstood.

Lessons learned: dehydrating in hotel air shaves IQ points off me like howdy. The aphasia goes way the hell up, and my ability to make rapid connections or compose coherent thoughts goes right through the floor. Milk is a surprisingly effective antidote, and so is getting the hell out of the hotel. At future cons: carry water, get outside for walks, bring own milk if it's not in the con suite. (We are Swede. We do not wot of this weenie Lactose Intolerance thingie.) On the other hand, once outside the hotel, my friends make me smarter. Lucky thing.

I was exceedingly tickled to meet and have a chance to chat with: TexAnne, boxofdelights, and of course mrissa. Also was pleased to find that avocadovpx was in attendance.

On the whole, I had fun, I had fabulous fun, including some fine meals and conversations and hot-and-cold running music parties, and I'm glad to know that there will be another one of these things next year. Even better, it's supposed to move to downtown Minneapolis, where the restaurants are. So kudos to everyone who made it happen; I'm glad there is 4th Street Fantasy once again.

Oh, and I still haven't been to The Mall of America. Go, me.

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[akirlu.livejournal.com]

And yes, Mary Kay was indeed wearing her fabulous purple leather corset and looking fabu in it.