I’m exhausted….

I'm exhausted. Bone-weary, eyes propped open exhausted. But I have so much I want to record before I forget it, so I have to sit here typing. As you no doubt figured out, there was no net access at the convention, so I was unable to do diary entries for Saturday and Sunday. (Well, actually I got back last night, so I could have written one, but I just tumbled into bed instead -- didn't even pay the bills, and I really have to do that soon). Aside from the lack of net access, Arisia was pretty well run (turns out that the February convention in Boston, BosCon, may actually be more useful to me, since it's more writing-oriented, but oh well...)

I'm not going to go into great detail, but I spent almost the entire time I was there in panels (I skipped at least 2 meals because I didn't have time to eat). I slept a total of 8 hours in two nights (not unusual for a con) and joined an incredible jam session (singing, playing, dancing) for six hours one night. There's a certain thrill playing with people that you just can't get playing alone, no matter how brilliant your performance. We stumbled and sputtered occasionally (since we were both sight-reading and often playing unfamiliar instruments), but it was great fun regardless.

I'm glad to be home, tired and inspired (wrote a new poem and a song (which needs some work) on the plane last night, but forgot them at home so I'll try to type them in here tomorrow. In the meantime, (and I feel a little embarrassed doing this) I'd like to share with you a poem one of my readers sent in (posted here with his permission). I get some wonderful mail from you guys, and I enjoy it all (well, except for an occasional obnoxious one), but every once in a while I receive something so lovely in its own right that I want to share it. One of those, from Cecil Williams, turned into a story that we collaborated on, Jinsong. Here's another.

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