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Entries in Pike Place Market (1)

Tuesday
Apr122011

In the big city, just the eight of us

* Rubbing the sleep from my eyes *

I'm still recovering from a whirlwind trip, California to Seattle, where Leesha and the kid posse (all six of them) met me for a weekend of frivolity and fundraising. The latter at the Wing Luke Asian Museum's annual auction/fundraiser/soiree.

As a board member, I was happy to see nearly $300,000 raised. As an auction attendee, I was happy to walk away with two pieces of art and a set of Mariner's tickets. (In the words of Dave Niehaus, "My, oh my!") And as an auction item, I was sold for $1,200. They must not have realized how cheap, tawdry, and angst-filled I really am.

Speaking of angst, I loved walking around Seattle with our brood of brooding teens. Leesha and I are big believers in dragging our children out of their comfort zones. With today's couch-driven technology, it's tragically easy to grow up knowing everything, but experiencing nothing.

Which is why I love hearing about writers like Willie Vlautin, who does most of his writing at the race-track, while betting on horses. What a great venue to see the best and worst aspects of humanity all in one place—joy and hope, and loss and despair—with table service and free drinks.

...

When I arrived at home I found two packages on my doorstep.

One was the copy edited manuscript of my next book which shall be titled Songs From the Book of Souls, or Whispers of a Thunder God. I think there's some debate brewing. Either way, copy edits means I'm this close from putting this sucker to bed and that much closer to it being in your hot little hands.

The other package was equalling exciting (to me). It was a copy of Weird Fantasy #18, (1953). In addition to featuring an early Ray Bradbury tale, this issue has a famous story about a planet with blue robots and orange robots. The robots have identical parts on the inside, but are segregated, based on the color of their metallic skins. The blue robots ride in the back of the bus, are forbidden from using the orange-only recharge stations, live on the bad side of town, etc. It's a phenomenal story that created quite a scuttlebutt by jabbing its finger into the eye of racism in the early 50s.

...

Okay, enough lollygagging on my part. I have editing and packing to do. Tomorrow I'm off to Duluth for a community read, and then I head to Flagstaff for the weekend's Northern Arizona Book Festival.