Ask Dr. Owen!
After waking surprisingly early on Saturday, and dashing about finding a new CD player and a new hat (the prior one having constituted an involuntary offering to the water gods of the Hudson River), I wound up heading out to Governors Island (I keep wanting to type "Governor’s," but no), where I arrived at the tail end of a period jazz festival, complete with dancing. Got to catch up with all manner of Rose’s alumni, as well as wandering the grounds, since I arrived as the music was ending. Governors Island was a US Army post from 1783 to 1966; the buildings are uninhabited now, but contain all manner of fascinating period details- wrought iron candleholders, and the like. I particularly remember the deconsecrated church we explored: paintings had been removed from the walls, although their labeling plaques were still in place; pews had all been taken out; in the middle of the otherwise empty floor was a single chair, child-size. There’s a story there; perhaps many. (Photos of the chair, and the rest of the event, including some marvelously ghastly public art, here, courtesy of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rm.)
After catching up with everyone over dinner, I went off to meet up with my friendgtrout to see Dreams With Sharp Teeth, a documentary on Harlan Ellison. (En route, I got to watch someone playing piano in the park: he'd wheeled an old upright in on caster platforms.) The film is clearly intended to give Ellison a positive spin: although a clip from Connie Willis’s speech on Ellison from the 2006 Hugo Awards is included, the groping incident is not referenced; celebrity guests such as Robin Williams and Neil Gaiman repeatedly exclaim on what an antic handful Ellison can be as a friend; other writers tell stories of how Ellison has inspired/amused/infuriated them (the Enemies of Ellison group is briefly mentioned). Well, all right: as someone who found Ellison’s writing (as opposed to the man himself) to be enormously influential when I was younger, and growing up in my own version of Painesville, I don’t mind seeing the writer’s work acknowledged; as someone who’s been exposed to much more of the unending car crash of Ellison’s personal life than I ever wanted, I certainly don’t mind not having to relive the more indefensible moments. From there, gtrout and I retired to Wild Ginger for Thai food, and discussion of writing; a lovely evening.
Today involved a jaunt out to Brooklyn, to see the Telectroscope. It’s a charming-looking instrument, although most of us expressed a vague desire for something more steampunk-y: gears, perhaps? At any rate, it was charming to see people waving their arms around in an odd sort of money-see, monkey-do fashion which the Brits duly imitated; even more charmingly, there was a tremendous influx of wedding parties in the vicinity, including brightly colored bridesmaids who reminded me strongly of the Fanta girls. Ice cream, then home, to beat the rain (although I’m disappointed: after this swelter-a-thon, I would’ve welcomed a proper deluge).
Oh, and lest I forget: we can now all benefit from the sound medical advice ofdr_clive_owen. Yes, now you too can write to Dr. Owen with your personal problems, and benefit from his medically sound, if perhaps somewhat curmudgeonly, wisdom. Ask the doctor for advice today!
rm.)After catching up with everyone over dinner, I went off to meet up with my friend
gtrout to see Dreams With Sharp Teeth, a documentary on Harlan Ellison. (En route, I got to watch someone playing piano in the park: he'd wheeled an old upright in on caster platforms.) The film is clearly intended to give Ellison a positive spin: although a clip from Connie Willis’s speech on Ellison from the 2006 Hugo Awards is included, the groping incident is not referenced; celebrity guests such as Robin Williams and Neil Gaiman repeatedly exclaim on what an antic handful Ellison can be as a friend; other writers tell stories of how Ellison has inspired/amused/infuriated them (the Enemies of Ellison group is briefly mentioned). Well, all right: as someone who found Ellison’s writing (as opposed to the man himself) to be enormously influential when I was younger, and growing up in my own version of Painesville, I don’t mind seeing the writer’s work acknowledged; as someone who’s been exposed to much more of the unending car crash of Ellison’s personal life than I ever wanted, I certainly don’t mind not having to relive the more indefensible moments. From there, gtrout and I retired to Wild Ginger for Thai food, and discussion of writing; a lovely evening.Today involved a jaunt out to Brooklyn, to see the Telectroscope. It’s a charming-looking instrument, although most of us expressed a vague desire for something more steampunk-y: gears, perhaps? At any rate, it was charming to see people waving their arms around in an odd sort of money-see, monkey-do fashion which the Brits duly imitated; even more charmingly, there was a tremendous influx of wedding parties in the vicinity, including brightly colored bridesmaids who reminded me strongly of the Fanta girls. Ice cream, then home, to beat the rain (although I’m disappointed: after this swelter-a-thon, I would’ve welcomed a proper deluge).
Oh, and lest I forget: we can now all benefit from the sound medical advice of
dr_clive_owen. Yes, now you too can write to Dr. Owen with your personal problems, and benefit from his medically sound, if perhaps somewhat curmudgeonly, wisdom. Ask the doctor for advice today!