We're Pretending We're A Travel Blog, Part 3

1am, Sunday morning. The book release party for Sara is now over. A goodly number of books moved, a few prints sold, and quite a bit of fun had.

Today began with writing. This is never a bad thing. I wish Red Rock or Dana Street had quite the same atmosphere as Crema; I'd probably get a lot more done. Or at least be a lot more excited about having unengaged Saturdays.

Following Crema and writing, there was the Nashville Parthenon. Yes, a replica of that Parthenon. Their Athena is, simply, stunning. It is a correct match-up, except that the architect used his face instead of the original Athenian architect's as the face of Hephaestus (which is fair, until you consider the original Athenian architect was executed for that), and it is amazing. There is not a lot that can prepare you for how impressive it actually is; the entire architecture of the building is designed to make her more impressive, and somehow, those lifeless eyes are actually incredibly vibrant. She is, in all senses, enormous.

After the Parthenon came the Heritage Hotel, which is also quite nice, though I'd say a little more quaint than majestic. Maybe it's the lack of an air of primitive religion in the air; maybe I just have trouble being struck by architecture. Hard to say.

Then it came time to prepare, which was exciting. My suit feels very good, and I'm told looks very good, and I am all in all most pleased with my Christmas present. But the important thing here is the party, which was lovely, and which contained, of all things, my friend Choz, from the Santa Cruz LARP scene. Choz is, it turns out, doing fantastically; and it was so nice to get to talk to that amazing brain without so many things in the way. It is weird to realize how long I've gone without seeing him, and how long I've known him, and, really, how many people I appear to have left a mark on. It gives me hope for the future.

We talked over cocktails, then beers; then we had to take a break for a very funny and innovative magic act, and, my friends, came the clockwork burlesque. Oh yes. You heard that right. The representative of Syrens of the South who came to the party was one of the most skilled dancers I have had the pleasure to see, and the choreography was, to my knowledge of burlesque, refreshingly original. I'll have the look on her face and her stilted gliding in my head as an example of the kinds of expression the human body is capable of.

And now, it is time for bed and the prayers for a hangover-free morning. Tomorrow, I pay someone to let me pour my own pancakes. The things you come up with on those long Southern nights...