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Yesterday was so much better than I'd expected. What a grand surprise to catch up with so many people, from Curnoles, Polly, Andi, Mike, Chris, Kimmy, Fox (see? Totally refriended you!), and whoever else will hate me forever for forgetting.
I've always liked Neil, particularly his live readings, but if this hadn't been at my old college in Chestertown for the sheer nostalgia slash morbid curioisity factor, I wouldn't have gone. I didn't expect to see so many people I know, foolish of me to think they wouldn't have been lured back for the exact same reason. It all turned out to be a wonderful little time. And then there's Neil himself. A fine, fine writer, fresh off of writing the latest attempt at something akin to an "Ultimate Batman Story,"* which no one there discussed, sadly. But the real key to Neil's success is not entirely his writing, of course.
You know what I really like about Neil Gaiman as a person? He's just so lovely.
I mean, he's not angry, bitter, exploding, ranting, intense, neurotic, arms-flailing... which is to say, he's not me. Well, okay, I'm not ALL those things, but more to the point, he's not like a number of people I know, being as I am an actor and thus friends with theatrical and drama-prone types, not to mention people passionate over fan-stuff AND politics. The kind of people who only exacerbate my own neurotic attributes so much that the thought of pulling a Dr. Manhattan and hermitting up in the Rehoboth Beach house as my own personal Mars is becoming seriously attractive.
But Neil, by all accounts, is just such the antithesis of all that. What's crazy is that the guy is a rock star in status, in fan-adoration, right down his near-iconic (within those fan circles) way he dresses. He's a rock star in most every way but personal manner. He's smart as hell without being pompous, dryly witty, but not cruelly snarky, the kind of person who can see the little wonders and joys in the world all around him.* He's utterly charming and delightful, a fan and a person of expansive imagination who's as down to earth as a sensible cup of tea.
And that's just it: I didn't want to meet Neil by standing in a long line, getting something scribbled on, shaking his hand and saying something I'll be worrying over later like I did with, say, Amanda Palmer. I wanted to take him to Andy's, buy him a beer or a sensible cup of tea, and actually talk with him. I'd don't just want to be friends with Neil,*** I want to have more friends like Neil.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, my dream girlfriend is now a drag king version of Neil Gaiman.
Make it so, Universe.
*I really, really want to discuss WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE CAPED CRUSADER, particularly with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zhinxy, but I've only read those issues in the comic shop and am waiting for the trade, whereupon I can actually carefully read them twice. So at present, I don't feel like I really yet can pick it apart.
The only complaint I can say for now is that I wanted MORE. A third issue, just for more eulogies. Harvey's, of course, I was sad not to see that. But also ones like Pengers, Mr. Freeze, Jason, and so many others for whom you should know Gaiman could have crapped out poignant little two-panel tidbits. Who'd have thought one of the story's most moving moments would come from a three-panel sequence with Clayface?!
**I was particularly tickled by the visual he painted of Penn Jillette's calling Neil totally crazy for being delighted by all religions, because he so would be! It's an especially wonderful image because Penn--nothing bless his soul, as I'm sure he'd prefer me to say--is the crack form of those above attributes.
***Although I'd very much like that, and I'd imagine such a thing could be possible. He's so very personable, and who knows, perhaps our creative circles will intersect. That'd be nice.
I sometimes get odd flashes of what might be my future career, or more likely are just my hopeful ego gone a-wandering. Like, I'll be thinking about how much I liked, say, John C. Reilly in something, and the thought will occur to me, "I should discuss this with him sometime."
As if I'm naturally going to meet and at least be casual acquaintances with John C. Reilly. Part of my brain thinks it's a foregone conclusion! Neil's in the same category.
I've always liked Neil, particularly his live readings, but if this hadn't been at my old college in Chestertown for the sheer nostalgia slash morbid curioisity factor, I wouldn't have gone. I didn't expect to see so many people I know, foolish of me to think they wouldn't have been lured back for the exact same reason. It all turned out to be a wonderful little time. And then there's Neil himself. A fine, fine writer, fresh off of writing the latest attempt at something akin to an "Ultimate Batman Story,"* which no one there discussed, sadly. But the real key to Neil's success is not entirely his writing, of course.
You know what I really like about Neil Gaiman as a person? He's just so lovely.
I mean, he's not angry, bitter, exploding, ranting, intense, neurotic, arms-flailing... which is to say, he's not me. Well, okay, I'm not ALL those things, but more to the point, he's not like a number of people I know, being as I am an actor and thus friends with theatrical and drama-prone types, not to mention people passionate over fan-stuff AND politics. The kind of people who only exacerbate my own neurotic attributes so much that the thought of pulling a Dr. Manhattan and hermitting up in the Rehoboth Beach house as my own personal Mars is becoming seriously attractive.
But Neil, by all accounts, is just such the antithesis of all that. What's crazy is that the guy is a rock star in status, in fan-adoration, right down his near-iconic (within those fan circles) way he dresses. He's a rock star in most every way but personal manner. He's smart as hell without being pompous, dryly witty, but not cruelly snarky, the kind of person who can see the little wonders and joys in the world all around him.* He's utterly charming and delightful, a fan and a person of expansive imagination who's as down to earth as a sensible cup of tea.
And that's just it: I didn't want to meet Neil by standing in a long line, getting something scribbled on, shaking his hand and saying something I'll be worrying over later like I did with, say, Amanda Palmer. I wanted to take him to Andy's, buy him a beer or a sensible cup of tea, and actually talk with him. I'd don't just want to be friends with Neil,*** I want to have more friends like Neil.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, my dream girlfriend is now a drag king version of Neil Gaiman.
Make it so, Universe.
*I really, really want to discuss WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE CAPED CRUSADER, particularly with
zhinxy, but I've only read those issues in the comic shop and am waiting for the trade, whereupon I can actually carefully read them twice. So at present, I don't feel like I really yet can pick it apart. The only complaint I can say for now is that I wanted MORE. A third issue, just for more eulogies. Harvey's, of course, I was sad not to see that. But also ones like Pengers, Mr. Freeze, Jason, and so many others for whom you should know Gaiman could have crapped out poignant little two-panel tidbits. Who'd have thought one of the story's most moving moments would come from a three-panel sequence with Clayface?!
**I was particularly tickled by the visual he painted of Penn Jillette's calling Neil totally crazy for being delighted by all religions, because he so would be! It's an especially wonderful image because Penn--nothing bless his soul, as I'm sure he'd prefer me to say--is the crack form of those above attributes.
***Although I'd very much like that, and I'd imagine such a thing could be possible. He's so very personable, and who knows, perhaps our creative circles will intersect. That'd be nice.
I sometimes get odd flashes of what might be my future career, or more likely are just my hopeful ego gone a-wandering. Like, I'll be thinking about how much I liked, say, John C. Reilly in something, and the thought will occur to me, "I should discuss this with him sometime."
As if I'm naturally going to meet and at least be casual acquaintances with John C. Reilly. Part of my brain thinks it's a foregone conclusion! Neil's in the same category.
