akirlu | Worldcon Report, build 0.01 (Reply)

If I had any lingering doubts that I am still utterly immune to hangover, last night and this morning have laid them to rest. Nonetheless, helping to drink up the leftover alcohol of the fanzine lounge and the TAFF party is not to be recommended. Especially not when being thus dutiful until four in the morning. Especially especially not when mixing scotch, beer, vodka, and froofy girl drinks rather indiscriminately through the course of things (though not in the same glass). Because, ya know, it isn't helpful to a collected and leisurely departure for the traveler to be awakened from a sound sleep by the phone call from the airport van driver wondering where the hell the traveller is. Last night was a fine and pleasant carouse, however, and a rollicking wake for the Worldcon.

On the other hand, the lack of sleep has left me rather utterly without brain, so although last night's dead dogging gives me a jumping off point to distill my thoughts on the whole Harlan Ellison tit-grope moment at the Hugos, it will have to wait. First I will need to collect and reassemble sufficiently many neurons to get a few synapses going.

But I will share today's not-quite-pertinent-to-the-groping insight about the Kremlinology of Harlan: Harlan would be well served if he could just learn to give distinct behavioral cues as to whether he's really upset, and means it, or he's just fucking with you, or he's really upset and means it, and he's fucking with you. Indeed, he would be really well served by simply dropping the third option entirely.