See These Teeth? 7 November 1998

Read all night last night, as usual on a Friday. Children of the Thunder by John Brunner, not a great book. I knew that, too, I've been passing it over in my searches through the shelves here for something to consume. Picking the bones. I suppose I really ought to sell some of these, because I'm running out of room if for no other reason. Pack Rat says No, though. Mine! Well, it filled a few hours, and it was mildly amusing to read the picture of the late 1990s as drawn in Brunner's alarmist style back in the 80s. All the characters are worried that Britain will be kept out of Japan's economic prosperity sphere. Heh.

Anyway, I managed to wake up relatively early. For me, I mean - 3 PM. Plenty of time to go do things - get some new reading fodder, something to eat, go see Lolita maybe. Then I saw in my email an invitation to a birthday dinner for my friend Charity, from our mutual friend Joan. It's tonight at 7, sorry for the late notice, hope you can make it! And can you please forward this on to these other people, I don't have their email address - thanks!

Caught. Of course I had to pass the invitation along, rude not to. Then, having been involved in the chain that way, I really should go myself. But I spent the next hour and a half, time to kill before getting ready, half-grumbling to myself. Dang these interferences in my routine! The other, and main, reason I decided to go, that - I never have gotten out much, but lately it's gotten a bit ridiculous. Socializing, you goon, it's useful, you'll need the skills when they put you in the Home.

So I went. And it was, of course, fine. It was nice to see Charity. She's another old-time SFNetter from way back in the day - a bit older than me, enough to have participated a little in The Sixties instead of just hearing about them, I think. Not too sure, and of all days this wasn't one to get specific about that. She's the most fanatical They Might Be Giants fan I've ever known, too. She knows their road manager, just from having been to so many of the shows. She saw them with me and Linnell at that New Year's Eve show a few years back. Very amusing to stand there watching the two of them jump up and down and scream.

Joan was at the dinner tonight, too, natch, and two more friends from SFNet, Marcia and Skip. But most of the other people were Charity's friends, which meant that one, they were at least my age or a bit older, and two, they were from The Well. And most of the evening was a reminder of how little I have in common with my own cohort in general, and fellow Wellites in particular. I still have my account there, have had (off and on) since the mid-80s. But I just can't seem to click, somehow. It takes a lot of time to keep up with the conferences, and it's a hard style for me - I don't usually have anything original to say, I'm more of a witty-rejoinder type, and that kind of remark has a half-life of about 5 minutes. Posting it somewhere where people will read it for years is like putting Norma Desmond under a 500-watt halogen bulb. It's just not kind.

There's more than that, though. I just ... I don't know. They're all grownups, jeez. They don't eat meat or they can't eat wheat or they just bought this Fabulous little vintage at the neighborhood grocer. One womans was describing such, saying, "You open it up to breathe first, and it just expands tremendously!" with this illustrative arm movement. All I could think of was that high school chemistry experiment where you learn how to make styrofoam (kinda), and this brown bubbly goo comes pouring out of the container. I almost asked, "Isn't that dangerous?"

They're very nice people, and it's not like they're stuffy or formal. Just some elememtal gap. (Charity's easier, because she'll just talk anyway, you just have to throw a nod in here and there.) I can't really explain it. It's not like I'm a party animal in any other social group. Maybe it's just that if I'm with, I don't know, GenXrs or foreigners or biology nerds, there's something to be learned from observing them. These folks, it's all stuff I already know. That sounds kind of thin, though. Could just as easily be fear of imminent normality.

The organically farmed red wine loosened it all up a bit, though, and it was a pleasant evening. Bit worried about finding anything to eat, since it was a Vegan restaurant. Not even a problem, though - put me anywhere they serve Pad Thai, I'm fine. Charity even gave out little party favors - I got a brain, which I always heard would be a handy thing. Unfortunately, it's empty. Probably just as well.

Um... I seem to have left myself without the usual Ironic Conclusion. On the way to the restaurant, walking down Valencia, I swore I saw a sign that said "Special Pricks". But I saw it again coming home, and it really said "Special Prices". Shame, really, I could have written something about that.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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