Meeting Cool People and Losing Street Cred

So you know how people can meet famous people and be cool about it and say things like "They were cool, you know, no big thing."?

I am not one of those people. I know this because i just met Ben Templesmith (@Templesmith on Twitter).

I was heading off to my lunch, looking forward to 30 minutes of wandering in circles with my headphones on, when Erin stops me.

"Hey, you know Ben Templesmith is signing stuff at King's Comics today, right?"

*beat*

"Nnnnnnnnooooo..."

"Oh, I assumed you would, you being a huge fan of Wormwood (Wormwood: Gentleman Corpse which I got Erin into last month), you'd know."

"I did not. I shall go now."

"Well, hurry. He's only there for another 30 minutes."

She was shortly talking to a Lucas-shaped cloud of dust. I knew it's usually about 18 minutes to get to King's. I took off so fast that I didn't realise my headphones were playing no music until I was halfway to King's.

I sent off a Tweet on the way:

On the way I passed some protesters or picketers or something. I dutifully took a photo of them and made it into a tiny planet, but did not slow down.

Made it to Kings, and saw him there at the table.

I don't go straight up to him, of course. No, instead I imitate the action of the young man attempting to ask out a girl/rob a bank, I made a full pass around the store, then bought the TPB of Fell (as well as the new Fables for Tanja), chatted with the clerk about how I'd "better buy this before he signs it, ha ha." Then I walked over. The person before me was talking, so I took a moment to leaf through the sketches and art he had for sale. I was fixing to buy one until it occurred to me that the "1600" written on the baggie might not be an in-a-hurry-way to write "$16.00" but might in fact be "$1600.00" and I was afraid to ask. I decided I would go with some colour prints that were clearly labelled "$20". Then it was my turn. I proffered my Fell book, and asked for a print. When he asked for my name, I told him it was Lucas. He brightened: "You're the guy from Twitter! You have purpose!" I would have like to have reacted well. However, being me, I freaked the fuck out. The rest of the time was spent chatting with the lovely lady next to him whose name I did not know (girlfriend? Iunno.) as she noticed I was Canadian and she was from Alaska. Ben pointed out that technically Canadians are Americans, as they are from the continent of North America. I jumped in saying he was technically correct, "the best kind of correct!". Then I left, feeling that I had overplayed my hand a little. I only realised when I was halfway back to work that I had not given him the $20 for the print. So Mr. Templesmith. Ben. I apologise for geeking out all over you. And I will mail you a shiny Australian $20 bill for the print. Sorry I couldn't be cool. You're just too awesome.

Musings

I took a different route to work today, and as usual when I do this, I found myself wondering: what if I just kept walking around looking at things and didn't go to work. I never got the urge to skip school at any time in my academic career, but I've had this sort of urge since I've begun working in Australia. There just seem to be so many interesting things to do and I just want to wander and see them. I don't know if it's sad, but a lot of those things revolve around food, wine, beer, and cocktails. Not the doing any of those things to excesses, but the enjoyment and interesting nature thereof. For example, I want more Innocent Bystander Shiraz Viognier. We had some and it was great, but I felt we rushed it a bit.

It seems I've become a magnet for gossip at work. Not the usual who-shagged-who gossip. More like oh-no-that-special-project-we're-working-on-is-ending-we-might-get-pwned-on-hours-and-supervisor-infighting-and-it's-all-coming-down-man gossip. It's giving me an unsettling sense of impermanence with everything I'm doing. I miss the illusion that managers know what they're doing and have things under control. And our back-of-house work has ceased being about quality of work lately and has just become a race to make your quota for the day. It's fair demoralising.

I stole a lobe off a cactus on the way to work today. I felt no guilt, as the cactus was about the size of a volkswagon, and I had no worry about storing it until i get home, knowing that succelents like cacti can survive for up to two weeks off the plant, then grow new roots. This particular cactus had no needles that I could see, so I had no trouble handling it. What I didn't realise is that its needles are 2-3 mms long, half the thickness of a hair and fall out on their own to coat what's nearby. In this particular case, what was nearby was the inside of my right sleeve. I spent the following half hour to work attempting to tweeze (with no tweezers) these little spines out of my wrist. They didn't hurt, but would twinge whenever they caught on something. Which was whenever I moved. So I got pwned by a plant.

Been listening to a lot of Spoon and the New Pornographers. Melodic power pop. Recommended, but not for Ted.

Tanja and I are about a third of the way through the 7th season of Star Trek TNG. Tanja's become a nerd to the point of discussing with someone at her work whether a colleague is a Ferengi or a Cardassian. I vote Cardassian. Oh, and I forgot how good the episode "Lower Decks" is.

Hey look.

Three new comics. I couldn't resist.

Also, Craig and I liberated a tennis ball from the slave courts of the Cleveland Street Park. Viva la rasa!