Home before Midnight.

I must be getting old.

Today's only planned Unit of Productivity was to drop off some flyers for the reading at The Mercury, and since I couldn't do that before 9pm, and since I did so well writing yesterday, I gave myself the rest of the day off. (A "day off" can be distinguished from my usual slacker lifestyle by virtue of the fact that I give myself permission not to feel guilty about not getting anything accomplished.)

I sat around and watched the other two movies I rented last night. Last night (or more properly, "this morning") I watched Idle Hands, which was pretty amusing, but much, much stupider than I thought it was going to be. I certainly wasn't expecting quite so much stoner humor. Seth Green was excellent as always, though.

Today's fare was Bad Moon, a werewolf flick that could more accurately have been titled Bad Movie, and Black Christmas, which I was surprised to find -- it's out of print, and Scarecrow wants a $150 security deposit to rent it, so I was a little surprised that this little hole-in-the-wall video store had a copy. (Of course, I was astonished to find that they had a copy of Nekromantik, which I didn't rent, not this time .... )

Black Christmas was good, if occasionally a little slow and uneven. It's essentially the first real slasher film, predating even Halloween. Has a nice, unsettling, unresolved ending.

Went out and got more copies made of my flyer. Finally checked my bank balance -- I'm pretty much exactly as bad off as I thought I was, which is both scary and reassuring; at least it's not any worse. Took the videos back to the store, which is on Lake City Way; it feels strange and a little pointless to drive so close past both wendolen's work and treebyleaf's apartment without seeing either one of them.

Made it to The Mercury and put my flyers on the flyer table. Hung around for a little while, and had a Red Bull to try to wake up a little. It didn't do anything for me. I've heard people describe this stuff keeping them up all night and I had no reaction at all. I'm starting to wonder if anything can cut through this fog I walk around in.

Found myself feeling strangely antisocial. There were a few people I knew there, including the lovely spaceling, but no one I really felt like I could strike up a conversation with. I decided to give up and go home. I miss the days when I went to the club more regularly, and when more people I know still came out, too. I miss having the club feel like home.

I don't believe this.

The Northwest Bookfest didn't even have a flyer table, or anything like one. I looked around and even asked the information booth if there was anywhere I could put flyers, and they told me there wasn't. Isn't that ludicrous?

On the bright side, I ran into Hardrock, who pointed out to me that Peter Straub was going to be speaking in ten minutes. I have to confess here that I don't think I've ever read any of Straub's work, but, ummm, I've seen Ghost Story, and, well, I'm a big enough Stephen King fan that I was excited at meeting his collaborator. It was the most recent collaboration, in fact, that Straub read from today, Black House. It was quite good; I look forward to reading it, although I imagine I'll have to read The Talisman first.

I was a little dismayed to realize that the occasional cheering I'd been hearing in the background was from the large number of people who were watching the Mariners game on the televisions throughout the exhibition hall. "Seven to two!" were the excited words I was greeted with by the door guard when I came back in from putting more change in the parking meter -- it took me a second to realize she was telling me the game's score, a fact that of course I had to be interested in, I'm breathing, aren't I? Actually, no, I was here because of the books, thanks awfully.

How did I get to this planet? And when can I go home?

I left shortly afterward, feeling depressed about the flyers and alienated by the baseball, and drove off with the intention of going downtown to drop some flyers off at Borders Books. (Yes, Borders does have a flyer table. Yes, Borders is better set up to serve the needs of a local author like myself than the Northwest Bookfest was. Yes, that's kind of sick.) But silly me! Did I think there was somewhere to park downtown? No, naturally not. After circling uselessly for a while, I gave up and headed to the U-District, with the intention of leaving some flyers at The Comics Stand, which had been closed when I'd tried it on Thursday.

The Comics Stand doesn't have anywhere to leave flyers, either.

Undaunted -- okay, okay; really, really daunted -- I headed for Lake Forest Park Towne Centre to leave some flyers on the copious flyer tables there, and to drop in and say hello to wendolen.

While I'm in Third Place Books, I hear an announcement that Timothy Zahn will be speaking in a few minutes. I'm not terribly interested -- the only book of his I've ever tried reading was his first Star Wars novel, and I couldn't get through it -- but as I walk past, I notice only three people have shown up to hear him. I instantly imagine how I'd feel in his position, and I take a seat.

I'm glad I did. I've met him before -- he and I were on a panel together at some convention a few years ago -- and he's fun and interesting to talk with. And that's just what this turned into; the five of us sitting around talking about science fiction, bad movies, and most importantly, storytelling.

I left content, feeling the connection with my calling that I hadn't found at the Bookfest.