I'm not a Con Guy. No, not like a grifter... I mean that I don't have the natural inclination to go to conventions. The idea of a place that would house others with similar interests is just not appealing to a rotten, unsocial, curmudgeon like me. Okay, so maybe I went overboard with "rotten", but honestly, I really am guy that likes to just work in his little studio with maybe one other person with loud music to drown out the voices wailing in my crazy-brain. Ya know?
What is the best way to learn? Doing. That's right... So how did I learn about Conventions? Well I went to the two masters in the field (Comic Con and Dragoncon) and dove right in.
Comic Con is this big convention center. Lots of corporate sponsorship. Very institutional. Luckily there are more than enough characters to make the event human. Just enough precious flesh to make you feel like you are not at the world's biggest Tupperware party.
Dragoncon is one of those old fashioned hotel cons. Like three hotels that were thrown up for the Olympics just get taken over by a mass of people in costume. And some of these costumes... Man, there was a guy who had on a Cobra Commander suit that actually gave me chills standing next to a guy with cardboard Electro head. The quality in costuming was all across the board. Sure, not everybody was in a costume. Well, do we count a UtiliKilt as a costume? I'm not sure either... Whatever, I'm just saying that It really feels like the fans are running this thing. It is steeped in all the charm and tragedy of a human event. And let me please tell you that there is nothing that could prepare a con-virgin such as myself to this Kinda thing. Nothing but the "doing".
And now...
THE DOING.
With the aid of your stolen photos.
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Right after I get off the train I am confronted by a NeedCoffee.com gift basket. The perfect contents: carton of cigarettes, green tea, mound of chocolate. Worth the 17 hour train ride. No question.
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Immediately confronted by my archenemy... Voltaire. We are still getting our feet wet with this whole "arching" thing. He pretends to forget my name and I deal out passive-aggresive quips like "Nice pants". We will get better at it. Seriously, I saw Voltaire try to wring his hands menacingly, and he is so close. Not quite sure which one of us is the villain though. Can you have two villains arch one another?
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Elevators that had a dizzying view of the hotel's interior. I kept thinking that with a tap-back and a run-up I could make it to the next terrace. And yes, do a handstand as my bitmapped ponytail sways in the breeze. I was also thinking that I might vomit on my shoes.
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Jackson and I did a couple panels. You would think from these photos I was constantly walking the line between confusion and disinterest. I wasn't... I was walking safely on the "confused" side of the line.
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We met a gnome. Not only a gnome, but The Gnome. The Photo Gnome.
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After meeting The Gnome, I was summarily "Gnomed". No, it didn't hurt. But there may be scars yet to be known. I'm gonna watch for "the signs" in Jackson. The minute he begins to crack, I'm getting my ass in therapy.
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No, I'm not confused about the beer... It's the gloves. Now if I could have seen then what that other guy was doing with his face, my look would have reflected that.
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Yes, I told you this... I swiped all these pictures from other people. And some people label their pics. Chandra, incidentally, is one of those people. And she is also super cool. She should have made a label for that.
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You would think that I have never seen a pretty girl before. I have, but it looks like I still don't trust them. I'm learning to trust... But you know they all keep daggers in their garters, don't you? Why? Because they might hate another girl to death.
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If you think she makes a hot Wheverthehell from Angel, you should (and are about to) see her as Triana. This girl rescued me from a pending nervous breakdown. So, okay, my life isn't
that bad.
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My mom went to concerts with me when I was a kid, and it was all kinds of extra-embarrassing. But look how well Triana is dealing with it. She hides her shame with poise.
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The Sexy Ladies of Venture.
SLV. I guess you could pronounce it "sliv" or even "slive". I don't know... There is probably a better solution out there.
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That 21 is good. I mean it.
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Next to the "
Triana and Dr. Orpheus in the lobby of a Placebo concert" picture, this one is my favorite. A perfect Dr. Girlfriend storms proudly through a crowd as her creators loom above from an Orwellian screen.
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Here he is, the man who supplied Jackson and I the perfect creators moment. We were able to meet one of our characters while we were awake.
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I had no idea how contrived this picture was when I was back there waiting for the flash to go off. It looks like a picture of a band that would completely suck. I am plumping my massive, 9 inch guns, not preparing to pop that girl in the tummy. And I do believe that Jackson is giving a jaunty "Go Team Venture", and not preparing a set of "got ya" bunny ears.
Alright, I admit it. I am a complete retard. Please marvel at my confusion with his metal-tinged "Go Team Venture". I am actually comparing our hand gestures. You have to cut me some slack. If you only knew how hard it was for me to
not do my crappy Tim Gunn impression, or make a goofy face. It's hard to stand still and be "regular"... But I try.
I'm slightly more trusting in this version of
Doc With a Pretty Girl, from my new book
"Doc Stands Next to Pretty Girls". There is a whole chapter devoted to how I like to keep talking when I pose, and thus assure an awkward mouth position.
There ya have it, Dragoncon in a nutshell. Minus the part where a bird shit on my shirt while I was posing with a fan. And also minus the the part where directly after the bird shit on me I had to remove my shirt (and keep on my tie like so much Adrian Zmed) while jackson got me some moistened napkins.
Keep pointing me towards pictures I can steal. I may have the stomach keep expanding this blog. "Blog". I just typed "blog" again. Yeah, I may never get used to that.
I love you,
Doc
NOTE: If any of your comments appear to have been denied, don't blame me. Sure, I like to read them first, but only to stop people from calling me "a little pussy that looks like an also-pussy". I'm not one to stop you from joining in on the fun. You have to remember that this is MySpace, and MySpace is the king of the "
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