Joe Haldeman's Blog, page 57

Mt. Vernon Street

I see our street has an entry in Boston's Gay Guide. It also used to be a hotbed,
so to speak, of prostitution. So make up your mind, already!

Right now, early Monday morning, it appears to be inhabited mainly by curious
small dogs. I'm at eye level with them as people trot by on the sidewalk.
It's kind of fun, so long as the canines can tell the difference between a window
and, say, a fire hydrant.

Robert Frost used to live a block away. Speaking of gay poets.

Before the Civil War, Mt. Vernon Street was populated by free black people.
It's not clear from the reference I saw whether there was de facto segregation.
This particular house was built 200 years ago, and I don't think anybody poor,
black or white, ever lived here.

Well, you don't know. Charles Street, down at the bottom of our hill, is a
tony shopping street now, but it used to be a red-light district.

Right now I think the only commercial enterprises are a couple of neighborhood
groceries. The only obvious locus of criminal activity is the State House,
at the top of the hill.

City's waking up. Think I'll walk over the river and see what's happening in
Cambridge.

Joe

Irene, good morning

So far, it's "What hurricane?" It's stopped raining and looks nice out as the sun comes up. The storm is coming, but not from the sea side, so it will be attenuated. Here's the official word, an hour ago:

"Although the storm should weaken as it crosses through Western New England, it will pack quite a punch. Periods of squally rain turn to heavy downpours early on. Torrential rain shuts down by early/mid afternoon. Upper 70s. Soupy, sultry, tropical humidty! Gusts of 40-60mph through central and eastern Mass. Isolated power outages likely as trees go down in saturated soil."


It was quite rainy yesterday when Antony and Jag helped us move stuff from the old place here. A lot of stuff! Two carloads in a large SUV.

A little white Scotty dog just poked his nose in the window to see what I was writing, followed by a pair of shapely legs. Good thing I'm dressed. Have to choose between privacy and ventilation here.

Ah, here comes some heavy rain. I guess it will be in surges as the arms of the hurricane move over us. Wish I could have a bottle of champagne. Oh, and an inflatable raft, just in case . . . .

Joe

movin' with a purpose

The weather's a travel concern, of course, with that hurricane converging on Boston even as Gay and I are headed there. But the weather from here to Atlanta tomorrow morning, and from Atlanta to Boston in the morning and afternoon, all seem pretty placid.

The hourly forecast indicates that weather will start to get bad in Boston Saturday morning, which is when we had planned to be moving into our new digs in Back Bay. We're pretty flexible, though. No MIT stuff till next week. So we could just wait out the storm, living out of suitcases.

We have a basement apartment, but (touch wood) it's halfway up a very steep hill. Don't expect flooding, but I guess this may be the test.

I've sent off six boxes, plus my suitcase and carry-on. Getting blasé about the move. Back in '83, our first year at MIT, we shipped up 21 boxes. Of course some of the stuff is still there, going in and out of storage like hibernating bears, or liquor-store boxes.

Stay dry, y'all.

Joe

Star Drek

Went with Brandy and Christina to see the indie sci-fi flick Another Earth. For me it was mainly interesting because of its failures. Its successes would probably redeem it for someone ignorant of or uncaring about science or science fiction.

The basic emotional story is okay. A horrific accident throws together a young woman and a somewhat older man in a complex skein of caring and guilt and passion, well acted by Brit Marling (an astrophysics student gone sideways) and William Mapother (a composer whose life she accidentally wrecks). If they had done that normally-scaled story, it could have been powerful in its claustrated indie box.

But a new planet is discovered, which manages to come up alongside Earth without having any effect on its orbit. It does affect the plot, in corny and unlikely ways. The supposedly authentic voice-overs of scientists and astronauts are excruciating. Not to mention the newsies.

I was sort of waiting for it to tip over into knowing goofball fantasy – but that never happened. It remained a small-scale movie ruined by ignorance. If they had just hired a scientist (or, mirabile dictu, a real science fiction writer) to vet the script for absurdities, the movie could have been saved with an afternoon of rewriting.

(It wouldn't take much sophistication. The willful scientific ignorance is on the order of a military movie where lieutenants salute corporals, or a nautical movie where they sail straight into the wind. A horse movie where the horses eat dogfood. A Star Trek episode where Captain Kirk acts like an idiot – no, wait . . . . )

I'm sorry that Marling's beauty and poise were wasted on this dreck. The camera does love her. Hope her next movie is a good showcase.

Boxes all packed, waiting for UPS. Leave for Boston tomorrow morning. Probably be out of touch for a day or two.

Joe

Worldcon IV -- Anniversary Day!

21 August

Today is our 46th wedding anniversary! Hooray for us!


Congratulations to Gay! She won the Big Heart Award at the Hugo Awards ceremony last night. Here's the info about the award --



(http://www.sfawardswatch.com/?page_id=615)



It's well deserved, of course, a pretty impressive plaque. We were up rather late going around and accepting congratulations.



I was on a couple of panels yesterday, and did a kaffeeklatsch, which is becoming the most enjoyable aspect of these things for me. People sign up for the opportunity to sit and chat around a table, six or seven at a time. It's a pleasant way to make contact with the fans – there's usually a nutcase or two, but the presence of more or less normal people damps their influence. I can draw the people out about their own lives, and just talk without being on stage.



We met with our agent, Chris Lotts, for drinks in the afternoon. Just a social occasion; no new deals percolating. Just as well, just as well. I have plenty on my plate with Work Done For Hire.



The awards ceremony took more than two hours. I wasn't too invested in it – not nominated for anything and not knowing Gay was going to win one – but was glad it ran smoothly. Good organization and technical support.



So things wind up, or wind down, today. I had an interview scheduled this morning with a journalist, but he didn't show. Gay and I were interviewed down at the convention hall for a fan history encyclopedia. Pleasant lunch, along with Larry Niven, with fans Kelly Palmer and Lou Berger. Nothing official left on my itinerary. Hang around, play some blackjack.


Fairly early plane tomorrow.

Joe

Worldcon III

20 August


A full day yesterday. Started with a "Walk with the Stars," a stroll around the part of Reno we're in with a native guide, fairly pleasant. Not too warm, and we were away from traffic most of the time. I mostly chatted with a woman from Arizona whose husband wants to be a writer. Poor thing.

Then the festivities began. (Yesterday, I forgot to mention, there was one on sf poetry, where we talked not too coherently about the subject and five or six of us read some poems. Several people came up to me later and said mine were far the best, which of course had been my opinion too.)

First autographing in the great hall. I had a long line but managed to accommodate everyone with five minutes to spare. (Bob Silverberg's line was longer; the other four mostly sat.) Ran out of ink in both of the pens I'd brought. Fortunately I have two more back here at the hotel. And ink.

Lunch with Alistair Reynolds, a Welsh writer and fan whom we'd met down at the Cape for the last shuttle launch.

I had a panel in the afternoon about "Why does the left still love military science fiction," where some interesting things were said, and even more absurd things, and then I taxied out to the outskirts of town for George RR Martin's wedding reception. He and Parris had married in a sumptuous costumed ceremony, which I was sorry to have missed. Many of the guests were in fantastic finery. The food was elegant and pleasantly strange. Rabbit simmered in chilies was my favorite. All manner of exotic things to drink, including good European non-alc beer. There was good talk and music and dancing – including a group attempt at the gyrations from "Rocky Horror Picture Show," which was amusing.

We came back to the Atlantis hotel and went from party to party for a couple of hours, not my favorite activity, but wound up down in the bar with a congenial crowd, including Gary.

It was late when we got in, and I decided not to go to the casino. I would heave felt stupid if I lost because I wasn't synaping fast enough. Midnight, anyhow, three ayem back on my planet.


Joe

Worldcon II

19 August


No exciting Russian ladies today. Just the usual convention stuff. I dressed up nice and was on a couple of panels. Had lunch in a pretty fancy sushi restaurant and dinner in a good continental one, with the Silverbergs. Always good company, though Bob was a little more dour than usual. Starting to feel mortality, at 76, and not liking it.

Well, I don't like it much, either, even from this halcyon perspective. Nothing for it, though, except living every day as well as possible. (You could even argue for a kind of calculus of life, no? One really good day is worth X forgettable ones. Let us pile up the lovely ones.)

Just got in from playing blackjack; won $310. Did I mention winning $300 yesterday? That sounds like a good limit. Interesting enough to win but not terribly painful to lose. Both days we played for half an hour, not long enough to feel actual guilt.

I could conventionally (ha ha) say "wish you were here," but you probably wouldn't like much of it. Conventions and casinos. Nice bleak landscapes outside of town, but sitting out there painting them would be pretty warm work.

Good to see old friends. The panel discussions were amusing enough, and a kind of exposure. (Of course if everybody in every audience bought a copy of every one of my books, the royalties still wouldn't justify the trip. But there's a kind of cascade effect, with readers who have met you becoming secondary salespersons – "I met this guy and his books are really cool" etc.)

Trying not to think about the mountain of work waiting at home. Eat drink, and be lucky!

Joe

Worldcon I

WORLDCON NOTES

18 August –

safe & sound, Judith, though the normal confusion of a worldcon is not diminished by its being in this Vegas-like town.

Fortunately, it isn’t literally Vegas.   Reno is a bout 50% as noisy and nervous – which is still pretty noisy and nervous.

Met the usual whirl of people.  Sat for a pleasant rather ditzy hour with Ellen Datlow and Pat Cadigan, watching them get drunk with amazing speed, drinking “free” doubles at Happy Hour.

George Martin had invited a couple of dozen male friends to celebrate his birthday at a strip club.  By “invite,” it turns out, he meant giving us the address.  It was a pretty expensive way to consume one beer.  The girls were pretty but they didn’t even strip completely; kept their nether regions covered.  What a prissy town!

A Russian girl was very pretty.  I had a little conversation with her – I’d been to her home town when it was still Leningrad.  “That was before you were born,” I said.  Shelaughed and said “1968.”  Amazing—I would have put her about 30.  Heavily made up, of course.  She sat on my lap, ver pleasant, and offered to take me into the back room for $200.  I declined but she said I was a nice man anyhow.

Gay got in just as I was returning from the club and we went downstairs for a bit of blackjack (the hotel is a casino, the Peppermill.  I increased my $300 to $500 and quit happily.  Gay also came out ahead.

Can’t find my reading glasses, which is annoying . .. have to look down my nose to type.  Probably left them in the blackjack room – at least I know I had them there, since I had no trouble reading the cards.

Slept until six this morning – 3:00 eastern time, so I’m pretty much on schedule.  Better get ready for my programs and walk over to the convention center.  It’s a pleasant distance, about twenty minutes, but unfortunately along heavy traffic.

Joe

Do not fuck with the king of gods

 File this under “Jupiter’s out to get you.” Never mess with the king of the gods.

I stepped out about five this morning and it was clear, so I decided to take the little Questar out and look at Jupiter, now almost overhead at dawn.

It was still dark, so it was kind of a crashy business, getting the telescope through the obstacle course of the porch and into the back yard. It is a light and sturdy mount, though, so I just set it in place, aligned it toward Polaris, and went to plug it in, and was attacked by a bat. But first I got my leg burned.

I don’t normally wear long pants in the summer, but I keep a pair sitting out for dawn and dusk observing, because of mosquitoes. So I stepped into them and got my keys – the porch door is cantankerous and can lock spontaneously.

While I was waltzing blindly through the porch, careful because of the $3500 piece of machinery I was toting, I felt a sudden warming in my right leg. Another strange neurological glitch, courtesy of my seventh decade. It got hotter and hotter and by the time I got outside and put the telescope down, it was scarily painful. New heart attack symptom?

No. When I’d dropped the keys in my pocket, one key fell across the terminals of a 9-volt battery, shorting it out, with drastic thermal consequences.

Ha, ha. Never happened before. On to Jupiter. I reached under the shroud of the large telescope mount to get the electrical cord and A FUCKING BAT FLEW INTO MY FACE! It had been sleeping upside down in the peaceful shroud. Ha ha. That had never happened before, either.

I mean, I’ve been observing Jupiter since 1955. No bats. No battery burns.

So I got a chair and sat down and set out the pad and light and eyepiece box. I felt lightly and realized my favorite eyepieces for planetary work, the 12mm and 7mm TeleVues and 8mm Brandon, were not there. They were in the blue box back in the house. But I did have five or six eyepieces and a Barlow lens built-in, so I just settled in to look and draw.

Good steady night; I should have planned ahead and set up the big scope. It was a very pleasant hour, even though in the back of my mind I was waiting for a rattlesnake or a mugger or at least a bird pooping on the corrector plate.



Of course a story like this needs an anti-climax. After finishing the Jupiter drawing, I scarfed down some breakfast and got my writing stuff together and went to get on my bike. Rear tire slightly low. Got the hand pump and unscrewed the cap on the tire . . . and the whole valve core blew out.

Well, hell. The tire was as bald as its owner. So I put the bike in the van and headed toward the bike shop that has the good coffee – The Eighth Avenue Bike and Coffee House. I drove very carefully and did not hit any deer or rhinos.

Happy ending: wrote a couple of pages and discovered a fine new bean, Uganda Pea Berry. Now will bike to lunch, in spite of the heat.

Leaving for the Worldcon at four in the morning, so this is the last message for awhile. See some of you there!

Joe

Moons & stars & stuff

 I got up a little before four this morning and expected to see the nearly full moon, because the back yard was so bright – but instead there was a uniformly gray sky glowing science-fictionally from horizon to horizon, the color of a blackboard that needs cleaning.

I knew where the moon should have been, just entering the trees to the west, and when I stepped outside and walked east I did just see it, like a smudged yellow thumbprint on that blackboard. The moon’s ghost, no edge visible, curiously affecting.

That reminds me of a telescopic sight, a planetary nebula informally called Jupiter’s Ghost. NGC 3242, in the constellation Hydra, it’s about the same size as Jupiter in a sufficiently large telescope, but pale bluish green – startling the first time you see it. Takes a pretty dark sky, impressive down in the Keys.

Thinking in those terms because last night was going to be a star party, our astronomy club getting together at a member’s place out in the country. Scrubbed by weather, my last chance until December or January.

Joe