mellotron_breakfast (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mellotron_breakfast) wrote2010-10-29 01:38 am
mellotron_breakfast) wrote2010-10-29 01:38 am
ToNaNo & Cadillacs & Cadavers & stuff
It wasn't a busy day at the Velvet Underground until after midnight. People probably waited, to dodge the cover charge you only have to pay if you're there to see a band. I didn't dodge the charge, and conveniently, had exactly $5 to spend by then.
I'm working backwards. I should say, first, that there are two Hernando related restaurants in Toronto and I went to the wrong one first. Hernando's is near the intersection of Church and Wellington. Hernando's Hideaway is at 545 Yonge Street (near Wellesley, which is absolutely not Wellington in any way). A few subway stations separate one from the other.
Instead of being a mere handful of minutes late, to be expected when you stop by a building that won't be Playdead Mansion much longer (they're moving to Kensington!), to meet the lovely Bean, it was more like over an hour late.
The fail continued with name tags that wouldn't stick, writing on the paper instead of the tag, then--most importantly--food. I was deft enough to avoid cheese, but didn't ask about how spicy that chicken wrap would be. I was in a Cali-Mex restaurant and figured myself to be in trouble, but they specifically have a selection of foods that don't fit the rest of the menu, and I actually thought these would be as bland as their Canadian equivalents. Spice Fail. The Spice Must Flow, I guess.
(Later, after watching Cadillacs and Cadavers make a deathrock thrash out of Surfin' Safari or somesuch, I drank a beer, figuring I was already screwed. Now my Last Beer is a Moosehead brew, and hopefully this Last Beer sticks for much longer than its predecessor).
The ToNaNo people are crazy. I have photos showing you their Cunga line and goggle wearing antics, and also where Lithy threatens me with an index finger. Fingers that can type 300K words in a month are clearly endowed with magic powers, enough to damage her mortal frame and make her have to wear that brace like the one I used to have for my wrist. Well, I figure if you're going to have magic in a story, magic needs to have some sort of price or physical limitation of usage (physical exhaustion and a need to rest after intense magic usage is acceptable), or else things should be more chaotic than you will allow them to be, what with so many people having no limitation on what they can do or for how long.
They put me on a team which I will call Team Wyrmwood, because it's really Book Wyrm. I know some of the people on this team; between SerpentRose and I we should surpass 200K words even if everybody else fails, just as long as they don't generate mysterious Minus Words that cancel out regular words on contact. AntiWords. Whatever; pick something.
There's another team, which needs to admit it's Team Thundercats. Instead, it's Team Mystic Cats or something. If they could only admit that they fight for honor, justice, truth, and that the source of their power is the Sword of Omens, we'd all be in trouble, except for whichever team A-Chels might be leading which wields a superior sword in Excalibur. Instead, aside from somebody else having Excalibur and us all being doomed, it's a level playing field. All the biggest producers of words are on Team Overachiever and doing what they do to raise funds, not to compete with us lowly mortals.
Photos will be up tomorrow. Details about the internship will follow as I get them. Then, hopefully, more Ayria photos. I mean, I have captured Ayria at Savage before--and I must say her escape from my evil clutches was always brilliant--but instead it's Not Savage, with park benches and lamps.
I'm working backwards. I should say, first, that there are two Hernando related restaurants in Toronto and I went to the wrong one first. Hernando's is near the intersection of Church and Wellington. Hernando's Hideaway is at 545 Yonge Street (near Wellesley, which is absolutely not Wellington in any way). A few subway stations separate one from the other.
Instead of being a mere handful of minutes late, to be expected when you stop by a building that won't be Playdead Mansion much longer (they're moving to Kensington!), to meet the lovely Bean, it was more like over an hour late.
The fail continued with name tags that wouldn't stick, writing on the paper instead of the tag, then--most importantly--food. I was deft enough to avoid cheese, but didn't ask about how spicy that chicken wrap would be. I was in a Cali-Mex restaurant and figured myself to be in trouble, but they specifically have a selection of foods that don't fit the rest of the menu, and I actually thought these would be as bland as their Canadian equivalents. Spice Fail. The Spice Must Flow, I guess.
(Later, after watching Cadillacs and Cadavers make a deathrock thrash out of Surfin' Safari or somesuch, I drank a beer, figuring I was already screwed. Now my Last Beer is a Moosehead brew, and hopefully this Last Beer sticks for much longer than its predecessor).
The ToNaNo people are crazy. I have photos showing you their Cunga line and goggle wearing antics, and also where Lithy threatens me with an index finger. Fingers that can type 300K words in a month are clearly endowed with magic powers, enough to damage her mortal frame and make her have to wear that brace like the one I used to have for my wrist. Well, I figure if you're going to have magic in a story, magic needs to have some sort of price or physical limitation of usage (physical exhaustion and a need to rest after intense magic usage is acceptable), or else things should be more chaotic than you will allow them to be, what with so many people having no limitation on what they can do or for how long.
They put me on a team which I will call Team Wyrmwood, because it's really Book Wyrm. I know some of the people on this team; between SerpentRose and I we should surpass 200K words even if everybody else fails, just as long as they don't generate mysterious Minus Words that cancel out regular words on contact. AntiWords. Whatever; pick something.
There's another team, which needs to admit it's Team Thundercats. Instead, it's Team Mystic Cats or something. If they could only admit that they fight for honor, justice, truth, and that the source of their power is the Sword of Omens, we'd all be in trouble, except for whichever team A-Chels might be leading which wields a superior sword in Excalibur. Instead, aside from somebody else having Excalibur and us all being doomed, it's a level playing field. All the biggest producers of words are on Team Overachiever and doing what they do to raise funds, not to compete with us lowly mortals.
Photos will be up tomorrow. Details about the internship will follow as I get them. Then, hopefully, more Ayria photos. I mean, I have captured Ayria at Savage before--and I must say her escape from my evil clutches was always brilliant--but instead it's Not Savage, with park benches and lamps.