"There is a black sun which is not visible to the human eye. It is our beacon and its fire burns within us." -- Akkadian temple inscription

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Black Sun

Steven Kaye's irregularly updated blog

I love the Brunching Shuttlecocks sometimes. Meet Tina the Troubled Teen. Tina the Troubled Teen And to explain that bit about Egyptian statues - there are claims that Egyptian priests used speaking tubes hidden in statues to make it seem that the god(dess) was speaking to its worshippers. I tried to find a good link, but there wasn't one I was happy with. So you're safe for now.
Grr. It appears that my WHC program book has gone missing, along with my free copy of Horror Garage. I'll have to skip a detailed rundown of the con until I can borrow a friend's copy and check when the various panels were. Vodka plays merry hell with the memory bank, so enjoy more highlights.
  • Attending a discussion of writing techniques led by Gene Wolfe, during which I learned that Burgess Meredith based his portrayal of the Penguin on Robert Bloch.
  • Seeing my first Target, which as far as I can tell is the real-life equivalent of Days from the novel of the same name. A single store should not have tacky bathing suits and DSL modems.
  • Going to Panda Express for dinner, and being disappointed that they didn't offer pandas as an option. Once again, life fails to live up to Those Annoying Post Bros..
  • Going out to dinner with a cool editor from New York and talking about everything from trends in horror to childcare issues raised by immaculate conception.
  • Discovering that absinthe goes surprisingly well with Oreos. At least Spanish absinthe. Don't look at me like that. If I were a well-hung French dwarf you wouldn't give it a second thought.
  • Meeting an artist who specialized in making mutant stuffed animals. Neil Gaiman won the rabbit with spider eyes in the art auction.
  • Listening to a 'radio theater' performance of Gene Wolfe's "The Tree is My Hat," including the coolest musical instrument I have ever seen in my life.
  • Being chased around by a woman with catseye contacts and a white catspaw glove (complete with claws) while drunk and unable to defend myself. Good thing I didn't know about the whip.
  • Dancing till 2 or 3 in the morning after a half-bottle or so of vodka and accepting American Standard as my personal savior.
More later.
More details later, but let me just say that the World Horror Convention was so amazingly cool that I'm seriously considering going to 2003 in Kansas City. Missouri. Going to Missouri. That's love, folks. Highlights included (but were not limited to):
  • Strange men plying me with Spanish absinthe.
  • Stalking the elusive David Hartwell to prove to my friend Bryan that he did exist and could be approached regarding book proposals. I should explain that while he was visible to me, much as Elwood P. Dowd could see Harvey, he had a knack for leaving just before I dragged Bryan over, seeking sanctuary in the Green Room, and similar diverting tactics. At least Marlin Perkins had the advantage of tranquilizer darts.
  • Meeting and talking to Mason Winfield, author, paranormal researcher and raconteur.
  • Hearing Caitlín Kiernan read from her novel-in-progress.
At future conventions I hope to speak to authors directly, possibly for minutes at a time, instead of my usual practice of using my friends as Egyptian statues.
© 2002, Steven Kaye