Meeting Neil Gaiman

So I have some catching up to do.

Several weeks ago, okay more like a month ago now, I had the extreme good fortune of being a ticketholder to what Neil Gaiman called his last US signing tour. It was in honor of the release of his novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, and was held in my personal favorite Portland venue, the Crystal Ballroom. Or at least, it's typically my favorite.

We aren't sure who ordered the sweltering heat, but it certainly wasn't us - the Crystal Ballroom has no air conditioning, the ballroom is on the top floor, and they typically don't even open the windows upstairs - and it certainly wasn't Neil, who was in his customary all-black and long sleeved ensemble. Oops, Neil said that he was going to keep it a secret that Portland had days like that; I guess the cat's out of the bag.

Either way, it was a delightful afternoon with approximately nine hundred people packed into one room, which Neil informed us was about the maximum comfortable number to sign for. Apparently the event the night before had gone from 8:00 PM until 2:00 in the morning (ouch). He read from chapter three of Ocean at the End of the Lane as well as an excerpt from his upcoming children's book Fortunately, the Milk (which I will shamelessly purchase without having a little one to give or read it to).

However, one of the best parts of the afternoon was the question and answer portion. Every guest had the opportunity to write a question on an index card which could then potentially be drawn at random and asked on stage. The best, or at least most memorable, question went something like: "Summarize your writing process in three words or less." He thought about that one for a long moment, and then responded, glaring, "Glare," and finished with a nod, "Drink tea." Which just about summed up the feelings of everyone in the room, including mine.

And then of course came the moment of truth. The room was divided into sections based on colored slips of paper in the copies of Ocean at the End of the Lane we were given as we arrived, and each  group was called up to cue for the signing table one at a time. I had looked forward to meeting Mr. Gaiman, even for a moment, since the second I realized that tickets for the event had gone on pre-sale. Everything of his that I've read I've enjoyed, but just as importantly, he is an incredibly encouraging person. Many of my closest friends are writers and artists of some capacity, and there have been many times that we call or message each other looking for support; insecurity seems to come with most creative territories. And then, one magical day, we found Neil Gaiman's tumblr. He spends a lot of time answering asks from fans, which has always struck me as generous, and many of those responses have to do with encouraging others not to give up on their passion because they are afraid or nervous or insecure about their work, their education, or basically anything else. So going up to that table, I wanted to thank him. Not only for the encouragement and confidence I had personally taken from his internet outreach, but for the fact that he seeks to support everyone he can. It is so easy to feel constricted or crushed by the concept that you are not good enough, or that art is not worth your time because it will not make you any money, or that nothing is ever original, and seeing an author who is so successful express so much support is not only refreshing, it's vital.

I had all these things in mind when I went up there. I was calm up until the moment it was my turn. I was good and remembered that he's a person, not the clout that his name carries. But then I was there, he was signing my books, I got my thank you out, and my mind went blank. He was a good sport about it, of course, and after I stammered something else I asked if it would be alright if I got a quick hug, and he waved me over. And I am so, so grateful for that.

Just in case, I'll try again: thank you so much, Neil Gaiman, for visiting my city, for making such a long trek around the country, for bearing the hand cramps and long hours, for sharing your newest work and your stories, for answering nosy questions, and for listening to all of us blunder our way to telling you how awesome we think you are. Please never change.

Cheers,
-Maddie

If you are interested, and you should be, go visit Neil's Tumblr at neil-gaiman.tumblr.com and get inspired!

Howdy!

It's been a while! In light of the fact, this might seem a bit more like a ramble than anything else. Or maybe a list. I'm not really sure.

Had the wonderful opportunity to see both The Santaland Diaries at Portland Center Stage and The Dimes at the Kennedy School. Both were fun, but The Dimes were phenomenal. If you haven't checked them out yet, shame on you. Go do so. However, the adventures for today were:

Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

EXCELLENT. I was far more impressed with this film than I expected to be. Not to say that I had any doubt it'd be decent, only that I can't honestly say which film could be called "better," even with the first having the advantage of being, well, first. Jude Law and Robert Downey Jr. give a grand show as expected, and the addition of the lovely Noomi Rapace as Madam Simza and the excellent Stephen Fry as Mycroft worked wonders. However, Jared Harris as the supremely chilling Professor James Moriarty must, inevitably, take the cake.

While diehard Conan Doyle fans will take issue with some of the choices, I think they are inevitably justified by the structure of the Holmes Adventures in the first place: they are only episodes. Yes, we are told that Sherlock goes away to become a beekeeper somewhere for his retirement, but that doesn't mean we are privy to every case - each story is open ended. That isn't to say that anything goes, necessarily, but this film has many nice touches, including the preservation of that openness which characterizes the serialized adventures. So, diehard or not, please go see this film. It's absolutely lovely.

Check it out on IMBd.

And

The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword

THIS GAME. IS SO GOOD.
It is the reason I am currently unable to sleep.
In retrospect, I have no idea why I didn't think of blogging a Skyward Sword diary. It would have been so much fun! And caused me to be even more sleep deprived than I already am, but whatever. In interest of not spoiling it for anyone, watch out for warnings.

First of all, the controls are great. Yes, the wiimote doesn't always respond correctly, but that's to be expected, really, especially when you're swinging it wildly, shouting "NO, HORIZONTAL SLASH, YOU--" etc. etc. Other than this slight (but predictable) setback, the only control issue is that the wiimote/nunchuck combination required drains batteries extremely quickly. Get thee some rechargables or Zelda fans will destroy the environment all by themselves!!

Gameplay is great. Everything about it that I was reluctant about - stamina gauge and upgrades, mostly - have been incorporated smoothly. Even the upgrade system (which normally makes me shudder under the brunt of never-ending RPG that usually goes with said function) is fantastic. The only mechanic which could have been improved was the controls for the musical instrument. There are no Ocarina-style command patterns needed, the game just identifies which song you've learned that goes with the location you're in and, essentially, plays it for you. A slight setback, in light of the rest of the game, but a bit of a let-down, nonetheless.

The story is great. After all, it is a prequel to the ENTIRE series, so I expected they'd have to come up with something good. There are plenty of little things (and big things!) to make long-time Zelda fans drop their jaws or throw up their hands in combined frustration and elation. This is coupled with a non-stereotypical Zelda main villain with a flair for the theatrical: the diamond theme was a nice touch in light of that. (SPOILER: A villain who, I hear through the grapevine, doesn't turn into a raging psychopath at the end, like Zant did.)

But the best is possibly the ART. This game is gorgeous and I can't even do it justice. So here. Have some concept paintings. (WARNING: snarky captions might be considered spoilers by some parties.)

Epona?! What happened to you?

I swear, if you tongue my ear one more time...

All in all? This game is completely addictive. Not recommended for young children or pregnant women.

Also, for those of you who have played/are working on it: the trials. Isn't it appropriate that the things you have to find in the Silent Realms are called "tears"? After all, when you're playing those parts you're CRYING THE WHOLE TIME.

But, massive time-challenge stress aside, this is a great game. If you want to check out official stuff, take a look at the website.

That's all for now, folks - I've got to get back to saving the world.

The Decemberists

Live and in concert at McMenamins Edgefield in Troutdale, Oregon!

Oh my goodness gracious sakes alive.

(If the above did not convey shock and awe, please insert it here.)

Not to knock them. Not at all. But they were so much better in concert than I ever could have dreamed they would be. Singer and frontman Colin Meloy was spot-on, the whole band sounded tight, Peter Buck appeared to play for a song (who, they told us, was actually a sprite that lives in the Troutdale woods, appearing to perform with musicians when they play music of an appropriate bent: "that's how REM found him," Colin said), and Jenny Conlee played the whole show, despite her ongoing battle with breast cancer. The sound quality: excellent. The set: brilliant, pulled from every album, varied, and wonderful. The energy: perfect.

It was the kind of show that induces a blissed-out buzz, a buzz that only leaves you when you're utterly exhausted and then leaves you exhausted for the next whole day.

There were a few perks in particular to this show. One of them was one of the most powerful messages I have ever seen conveyed on a stage. In talking about how grateful they were that Jenny could be there to perform with them, not only did Colin lead the entire crowd in a little healing magic/positive thought - we all put our hands in the air, said "ooooOOOO, aaaAAAAA, KAZAM!" and she looked down at herself shocked as though we'd cured her; "that'll do it, right?" said Colin - but he went on to explain their merch campaign. They've designed shirts and buttons (not available online) that read "Team Jenny" printed along the side of an accordion: all the proceeds go to Susan G. Komen for the Cure. As though that wasn't poignant enough, Colin went on: "We're going to play a song for Jenny, now. It's called This is Why We Fight." I had to work hard not to burst into tears. For those of you who aren't complete Decemberists fanatics, the lyrics to This is Why We Fight's chorus go: "This is why/why we fight/why we lie awake,/ this is why/why we fight:/so when we die/we will die/with our arms unbound!/This is why/this is why we fight/come hell." It also has an incredibly powerful music video to go with it.

My personal favorite perk of the evening, however, was that they fearlessly played their longest tracks: as part of encore number one (of three!) they played most, if not all, of The Tain, an eighteen-minute track! And, to top it off, as their second to last song of the night, they played my personal and all-time favorite, The Mariner's Revenge Song. Yes, folks. I danced the interpretive whale dance to the best of my ability and screamed like a dying sailor being eaten by a whale. In public. In my defense the latter part was by instruction. The whole crowd screamed and oh, what a sound we made. The video of the entire song (NOT MY DANCE, thank heaven), is pending on the YouTube. Their last song of the night, one of their very finest, was June Hymn, and though the drunk in front of us kept screaming at the most inopportune times during it, it was a beautiful performance nonetheless.

It also turns out that not only are The Decemberists basically King and court of Portlandia, they are some of the most creative people I have ever had the fortune to stumble across. Check out their website, their collaboration with The Impossible Project, The Impossible Project's homepage, and the site for Colin and his wife, Carson Ellis', novel Wildwood for details.

The (excellent) Openers:
Okkervil River
Point Juncture, WA