Only anarchists are pretty...

http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2009/11/for-those-who-read-this-blog-for.html

(Serena Altschul and some author in July, sitting on the trampoline after two days of interviews. None of which, oddly enough, were done on the trampoline.)

Mr. Neil,

I DVR'd yesterday's installment of Sunday Morning and after zipping through it back and forth multiple times cannot seem to find you, though the description indicated the correct episode. Was it bumped to next week? Have you been sucked into an alternate Neil-less universe?

A concerned reader,
Mary

I'm afraid it was bumped by the Fort Hood Massacre.

I checked: The profile CBS did of me is apparently still going out, probably some time in December, although no-one seems certain when. I was told that we could help ensure that it is broadcast (and possibly make it come out sooner than December) if CBS think people would actually like to see it. Which means that if you do want to see it, you can help the process along if you write or email CBS and (politely) tell them so:

ADDRESS:
CBS News Sunday Morning
Box O (for Osgood)
524 West 57th St.
New York, NY 10019

E-MAIL: sundays@cbsnews.com

...
Dear Neil Gaiman, I ask for half-a-moment of your time (I would not presume to ask for more). This Spring 2010 I am teaching a Topics in Literature class on YOU at Winona State University (Eng 225: Neil Gaiman). Easy enough to select representative novel (American Gods), short stories (Fragile Things), children and YA (Graveyard Book), but here's the rub: I will likely only assign one Sandman graphic novel to students. I have been debating which is most representative, most worthy of inclusion, most amenable to class discussion and student scholarship. Then I thought I'd ask you. I know you suggest above that, for questions of this sort, we consider you a dead author, but I know you're not. When I came to a similar impasse about which of Ursula Le Guin's works to include in another class, she actually replied and offered her input. I extend the same offer to you: which of the Sandman volumes would you like to see on the syllabus?
Thank you for your time,
Nicholas Ozment, English Instructor
WSU

It's a hard one. I think if I were teaching I'd either go for Season of Mists or Fables and Reflections, because both of them have stuff to teach -- those nice chewy bits that people can like or dislike, argue with or discuss. I know a lot of teachers like to teach Dream Country because a) Midsummer Night's Dream won awards, and b) it's short and c) it has a script in the back. Your call. And good luck.

...

I mentioned recently that there were some beautiful new Polish and Russian book covers for my books that I'd seen at signings, which got me thinking. The International Cover gallery on this website is incredibly out of date.

It's at http://www.neilgaiman.com/p/Works/Books/International_Covers.

And though I get a lot of foreign editions in, and will at some point head down to the basement and rummage around and scan some (this week's mail brought the two-volume Japanese edition of Anansi Boys, on the cover of which Fat Charlie is not only Very White, but also Very Thin, and the complex Chinese - ie. Taiwan and Hong Kong - edition of The Graveyard Book) I thought that blog readers, being, as you are, all over the world, might be a better resource for knowing where to look for foreign covers.

Was your basement finished when you purchased your home or did you have it finished for your basement library? If you finished it yourself, how difficult was it? Also, I thought I saw a dehumidifier in one of the Photosynth pictures. Do you need one because of the books?

I'm asking because we have a full unfinished basement that we would like to have finished. We are running out of room for our books also. I don't think we don't have as many as you do though. :)

Any other suggestions for such a project would be greatly appreciated!

Thanks,
C.

No, when we got here the basement had a clay floor that puddled when it rained. We hired some nice builders and spent a lot of money finishing it, putting in drainage tiles, underfloor heating and all. There's a dehumidifier there in the summer and a humidifier in the winter, because after the first few years I noticed that binding glue and leather book covers were both cracking and flaking. There's now the equivalent of a large house in basement rooms beneath this house, filled with books and CDs and suchlike stuff.

And finally, a few photos from the China trip, taken by Ian Ford (or in one case, on his camera). Ian's a travel guide who now lives in China who helped organise my travels, and came along with me for part of the journey.

Amanda and I in the silk clothes that my publisher had given us as a thank you for coming, and because they are terrific.

I'm holding the Galaxy Award for this year, given to the foreign author most popular with Chinese reader-voters. This was my second year of winning it, so I have retired from the competition and said that they have to find a new favourite foreign author now.

Here's a partial preview of the big Domino Fall to take place tonite in Berlin, to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. This test used 100 blocks, but the real thing will use 1000.

Posted by Paul DiFi.

From tomorrow, the iPhone will be available on Orange. I was terribly excited when this was announced, because I'd been anticipating it for ages. In fact, about 18 months ago, I was idly looking at the shelves in a branch of phones4u, when the assistant came over, and we had the following conversation:

 

Assistant: Can I help you?

 

Me: I'm just looking for now. I think I'll wait till the iPhone comes out on Orange.

 

Assistant: The iPhone will never come out on Orange.

 

Me: Oh really? Don't you think so.

 

Assistant: Definitely not. My colleague Tracey used to work for O2 and she can confirm it.

 

Tracey: Yes, that's right. Apple has renewed its contract with O2 and the iPhone will never be available on Orange. 

 

Me: Hmmm. Oh well. 

 

At this point, I smiled a knowing smile that aimed to convey the message, "But I am a technology journalist and have insider knowledge," even though this wasn't strictly true. It's just that anyone with a modicum of common sense could have worked out that O2 couldn't have exclusive rights to the iPhone for ever.

 

Anyway, now it's here, I'm not so sure. I like the idea of gadgets, but I'm also good at talking myself out of them. I've only ever owned two mobile phones; I acquired the first one in 1999, and by the time it was stolen in 2006, it had acquired the status of retro-chic (or so I told myself). The second one is slightly less basic but is still clunky and old-fashioned compared to the new models. On the other hand, it allows me to make phone calls and send texts, and I don't need a phone that does anything else.

 

My problem, really, is this: now that everyone has an iPhone, I like being the person with a rubbish phone, just as I rather liked being the person with the 14-year old Ford Escort held together with bits of black tape. 

 

As for the Kindle - finally available in the UK after what feels like years of waiting - I'm not sure I want one of those any more either. I love the idea of a Kindle, but would I really use one if I had one? I know exactly what I'll do: put off buying one until the price comes down and the technical hitches have been smoothed out, and by the time that happens, everyone else will have one, and the moment will have passed. 

I saw one of these little guys crossing the road when I went out at lunchtime. It's not as unusual as seeing a dodo or a roc, but they're not exactly common in this part of East Texas, either. No coyotes giving chase, though.

I have been reading with interest some of the articles about the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. Back in 1986, I had the fascinating and memorable experience of crossing through the wall at the infamous Checkpoint Charlie in Berlin. I was on my way to Leipzig in (then) East Germany for a scientific conference. I first approached the US outpost near the checkpoint, uncertain of the protocol, but the bored-looking guy behind the counter said he had no interest in who went into East Germany. (I'm sure he was lying and that he recorded my every move!)

The Berlin Wall was an impressive sight. On the Western side, it was covered with graffiti. All of the brush was cut back from it, so it looked like a no-man's land for about 20 yards. Depressing looking, actually.

Checkpoint Charlie was both an automotive and pedestrian gateway between the East and the West. The route for vehicles was a deliberate maze so that someone couldn't just floor the gas pedal and break through. There were concrete barriers every few feet that required careful navigation to those who were permitted to pass through. For pedestrians, the course was no less daunting. Inside the Checkpoint, I had to pass through four different chambers. When you passed one stage, the door in front of you opened and then locked behind you, so there was no backing out once you were in play. I think that you could easily apply for a day pass to go into East Berlin, too, but I was prepared in advance with my visa for the conference. There were plenty of questions along the way, and at one stage you were required to exchange a certain amount of money into Ostermarks, East German currency that had no value outside the country. The money was cheaply produced. The coins were aluminum and the color on the bills came off if you rubbed it against something. While in the country you were required to convert a certain amount of money every day, and it was unlawful to take Ostermarks out of the country while you left. This guaranteed an influx of hard currency that the country needed to purchase goods.

After I made it through to the other side and was in East Germany, I had no idea what to expect. I thought that I would be stopped frequently and asked to justify why I was there and where I was going. I went to the train station in East Berlin and, after an arduous negotiation, figured out how to get a train ticket to Leipzig. No one would speak English. I had to take the U-bahn (subway) to a certain stop and then the S-Bahn (regular train) from that point on. Fortunately I saw a station stop that sounded like what I heard and guessed correctly where to change. Again, I expected that people would stop me and demand to see my papers, but no one did. I was free to travel inside the country without issue. However, when I checked into the hotel in Leipzig, I had to surrender my passport to the local police for the duration of my stay.

East Germany was drab and dreary looking. Pollution coated concrete and glass buildings that had been erected hastily after the war. Though there was nothing overt, I was convinced I was under constant surveillance. I tread carefully. I took absolutely no photographs during my 10 days behind the Iron Curtain. I got the impression that people crossed the street to avoid direct contact with me--I was obviously a westerner with my brightly colored clothing. I was a little surprised that the professors and other faculty at Karl Marx University spoke so openly about their dissatisfaction with the government. A couple of attendees from Czechoslovakia, when they discovered I was Canadian, wanted to know if I could help them join a hockey team.

It was a truly surreal experience that will stay with me as long as I live, I suspect. When the time came to leave, I traveled to Berlin with an American who had come in via India. He had a lot of things in his suitcase that interested the East German police when we made the reverse trek through Checkpoint Charlie. They opened his suitcase and spread out everything. I expected to get the same treatment. However, there was a shift change right at that moment and the guy who came on as a replacement seemed to assume that I'd already been searched, so I was waved through. The world seemed brighter and less oppressive once I was back in West Berlin, an amazing, ultra-modern city that seemed to be constantly partying in the shadow of the Evil Empire that completely circled it.

When the wall came down a few years later, I was one of the people who bought a little piece of it as a memento. Kitschy, of course.

An excellent season finale of Mad Men last night. Some shows choose to rip apart the status quo and leave viewers dangling during hiatus. On this show they managed to disrupt the status quo but give us the promise of a new beginning. Should be interesting times when the new season picks up again. I knew who Roger Sterling was going off to fetch to help them decode the arcane records of the business.

I went on a dirigible for my birthday!  Things I learned:

1. If it has a rigid frame, it's a dirigible or a zeppelin.  If it doesn't, it's a blimp.

2. Our dirigible was filled with helium, not hydrogen.  This means that if we had an accident we wouldn't burst into flames like the Hindenburg, but we might, I suppose, start talking in high squeaky voices.

Pictures here:

http://picasaweb.google.com/frlameoff

[Click for readability]

The infamous Rhode Island accent demands that terminal "r's" be truncated, turning "car" into "cah." This is a well-known New England trait. Less well-known is that those lost "r's" reappear at the end of words. Thus, "Linda" becomes "Linder."

And so we come to the lovely "Sherper" clothing on display at this local chain store, Benny's. For those of you who speak the Queen's English, that is of course a transcription of "Sherpa."

Posted by Paul DiFi.

Rang dang dang a dinga dong! [Baby!] Sorry, it's been a non-stop playlist of 80s dance songs in my head. This weekend was our friend's 40th birthday party (which is weird, because I'm only 23. How do I know all of that 80s stuff? Har har.) and most everyone came in their best Me Generation stuff. (There were a lot of people that clearly don't have my insane passion for re-creation. They probably sleep better than I do.)

( The BEST birthday party I have ever been to, hands down. PICTURES! )

I did catch a cold bug/flu/something and completely lost my voice yesterday. I'm still in my jim-jams, in bed. I'm staying in bed, working on revisions. NICE.

I do want to tell y'all about a FREAKING AWESOME MOVIE I watched Friday night, though. Spoilers ahoy! [eta] for clarity: the movie title is [REC]. ( [REC] - if you've not seen it, DO NOT READ. )

I'm going to drink some hot tea and see if I can't get my voice back....

( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )

Last week I posted about a cherished sfnal concept, the space elevator, moving closer to reality--and in the process learned about another cool idea, the space pier.

Now comes a report that the Japanese are embracing another sfnal standby--the solar-power space array, featuring satellites or platforms in geosynchronous orbit beaming solar energy earthward in the form of microwave radiation.  I have no idea what effect this would have on global warming or the environment generally, but I always respond viscerally to anything that brings my boyhood sf future nostalgia into being.

But I am still waiting for that damn jetpack!

( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )

Rickie Lee Jones released a new album this week, and this song is on it. But apparently, she's been performing it for almost twenty years, if the 1992 date on this YouTube performance is to be trusted. I guess she just felt she wasn't ready to nail it down in a recording session till recently. Perhaps its sentimental significance--being written by her father--made her hesitate to "standardize" one version of it permanently.

The whole CD is very good.

Posted by Paul DiFi.

Glad to see Obama's health insurance plan slouching towards Bedlam, and glad to see Maine's own Mike Michaud casting a key vote.  Why hasn't anyone mentioned the huge stimulus package we'd all get if we weren't paying through the nose for insurance?  I'm self-employed;  my family has been woefully underinsured for the last 20 years, and I've still shelled out more than $100,000 on premiums and medical costs.  I could've bought a house for that, or 33 used Volvo wagions, or 21,786 Big Macs.  Thank God Steve Colbert has a good idea for solving this problem:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/10/29/you-genics-colbert-defend_n_338386.html

I'm also gratified to see that the President has selected an official biographer.


Let's hope Warren Ellis gets a chance to chronicle the President's second term.

( +6 )

( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )

The folks over at Cemetery Dance have done some site re-organization. After installing WordPress, my online column has a new URL. Of course, you can still use NewsFromTheDeadZone.com to get there, too.

I watched Hanging Gardens, the third episode of the Rebus series. Not as good as the second, not as bad as the first. Some good, realistic twists. I find it interesting how proximate the criminals and the cops are. Without guns to defend themselves, a lot of the exchanges end up like bar room brawniness and high school smackdowns.

So, is Wendy going to get to be a "field mouse" on C.S.I.? Hodges is a funny character. So geeky and pompous but he has his moments of redemption, too, as when he told Wendy he just wanted her to be happy. Usually the acting on the show is at least solid, but I thought Nick's reactions in the final scene when the brother was released from jail were forced and obvious.

Mice seemed to be a theme on Thursday night, with Jane using one (Mr. Jingles, is that you?) to effect an escape from the lockup. Of course, he psychoanalyzed everyone in jail with him and solved the murder almost without leaving (like Nero Wolfe, solving his crimes from the brownstone). Getting one of the suspects "brought to him" was funny. Still, I find the show teetering on the balance, trying to decide whether to be serious or comedic. NCIS pulls off the comedy. The Mentalist hasn't figured out the right recipe yet.

Finishing up revisions on Chapter Two and plan to send it off to my agent tomorrow.

I read quite a bit more of Awaiting Your Reply this morning. The title comes from the end of one of those Nigerian scam e-mails, the one that everyone is familiar with. My husband died and I'll give you millions of dollars if you'll help me get his fortune out of the Ivory Coast. The e-mail itself doesn't play a part in the story, which is about identity--what it means, and what it doesn't mean. You have a university kid whose biological father (who he knew as his uncle until the revelation) contacts him. The kid's pissed that the people who raised him never thought it was important enough to tell him who he really was. After he runs away, he's declared dead. He's working with his father (but is he really his father?) on some elaborate scam involving identity theft. The kid travels around the country under different aliases, making transactions, creating lives for these fabricated identities. Then there's the guy whose twin brother is scizophrenic, who likes to tell him made-up stories about things that supposedly happened when they were kids. So the brother has his original memories of childhood and, imprinted on top of them, the wild fantasies his brother has spun. Confusion ensues. The mentally ill brother has been traveling around the country, adopting different pseudonymns, and fooling people into believing he's a professional this or an expert that. And then there's the young woman who's traveling with her former high school history teacher, a man who probably isn't what he claims to be (what history teacher could afford a $70,000 car?).

Speaking of identity, we watched The Burning Plain, with Kim Bassinger and Charlize Theron. The movie was a tad confusing at first, because it's told out of sequence and there are characters who are supposed to be older versions of themselves but it takes a while to unravel who's really who. An interesting film about rejection (Bassinger's husband couldn't make love to her after her breast was removed for cancer treatment) and new love, about children disliking the people they love, about love happening between people who were supposed to hate each other, about punishment gone wrong, and about chances to atone.

It is said that a poet has proven himself or herself as talented if some decades after their death three or five or so of their poems out of all their output are still remembered.

The same standard probably applies to song composers. A few tunes enter the canon, and you're a certifiable genius.

Juan Tizol certainly qualifies, having given us both "Caravan" and "Perdido."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Juan_Tizol





Until yesterday, I had never heard another of his tunes, "Bakiff." It certainly never entered the canon, but possesses many of the qualities that made the other two songs great. Such an instance raises huge unanswerable questions about why one work of art is a hit and another one, similarly great, is not.

In any case, if you enjoyed the two videos above, try this link. It should bring you to an audiofile of "Bakiff."

http://www.last.fm/music/Duke+Ellington/_/Bakiff

Posted by Paul DiFi.

I spent nearly 14 hours in a car alone yesterday driving from Grand Rapids, MI to Westport, CT. It had been 3 years since I made that trek and I always forget how long Pennsylvania is. LOL I was very antsy and annoyed for the first 5 hours or so, and then I settled into it and the rest if it was fine. The only drama happened when I forgot that all gas is Full Service in New Jersey and I am not used to driving very often so I didn't realize how badly I needed gas until it was too late. I stopped in some tiny town and BOTH gas stations were closed. I was on empty, with the gas light on and had no choice but to get back on the freeway and find the next station. Finally found a 24 hour one and filled up JUST in time. I was in a panic for a minute but it passed.

Today I'll be hanging out with friends in Westport and going out for dinner at Outback Steakhouse which I LOVE! Tomorrow there's an Interlochen Gathering in New Jersey that I'll be attending and of course Monday I'll be heading into the city for the show. I'll spend Tuesday and Wednesday in the city before heading home on Thursday. Quick trip! I can't wait to spend some time in Manhattan again. It has been WAY too long.

( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )

Today, in just a few moments, in fact, Cynthia and I will be driving an hour inland, to Bridgeville, DE, to attend that awesome annual spectacle of American know-how and red-blooded enjoyment of smashing things known as Punkin Chunkin! Traditionally held on the first weekend after Halloween, to ensure an ample supply of leftover pumpkins, Punkin Chunkin involves teams of engineers and hobbyists from around the country who compete to build and operate machines that hurl pumpkins for large distances in a number of categories. It's a hoot. Until you have seen a pumpkin fired from a large artillery piece, you have not really lived. Some of the launches are all about sheer power, while others involve medieval-like mechanisms of Goldbergian charm.



Is this a great country or what?

I am going to make more time and effort to come here. It just makes me too happy not to. I love coming alone and will always treasure the memory of that first independent trip, but having Chris here with me is the best thing of all. I'm too tired and happy to go into specifics. Just walking around, hanging out together, seeing a couple of friends, eating lots of wonderful food (I've developed a taste for waffles on this trip - not American-style hot waffles with syrup but the crunchier Dutch ones you can eat hot or at room temperature, and that come coated in every permutation of chocolate, strawberry, cherry, vanilla, caramel, and nut topping you can imagine) and smoking vast tonnages of across-the-universe-quality weed, hash, and kif. I mean, the stuff that was considered strong nine years ago is on the mild end of the menu now, and the current state-of-the-breeding-art strains are just insanely strong. Too strong, many people claim; it renders them unconscious. Chris has gone semiconscious a couple of times, but in general he has held up admirably. Me, I just suck it up and love it. There is no pain here to speak of. Maybe eventually I'd get used to the massive concentrated doses of THC and the pain would return, but for the past four days it has been only a distant memory. If anyone ever tells you medical marijuana doesn't work, send them here and I will laugh in their face. (And just that should be enough to get them high.)

I was going to post pictures on Flickr, but the iPhone app is way too slow. For now, there are some on Twitter that you needn't be a member to see; just go to twitter.com and search for docbrite or @docbrite.

Tomorrow: Museumnacht!