I’m just saying…

Well I just got back from PhilCon, and boy is my everything tired. I mean fuck. It wasn’t as hardcore as UberCon, and nowhere near as hardcore as the legend of Dragon*Con. PhilCon was a science-fiction literature convention primarily. And I’m not gonna lie. I don’t pick up those… book… things you people like all that often. I lack the attention span time to pick up anything that isn’t comics or a script. If I even have time for those. I haven’t had a chance to pick up my comics from the shop in over a month now.

But that’s a radical tangent. Getting back to PhilCon. There was plenty of novelty in and of itself that yes, my name is Phil Kahn and I was attending PhilCon. It elicited many double takes and bouts of denial. Not to mention that their programmers listed me as “Phil Khan.” However, at a science-fiction convention I’m not sure I would be right to expect any different.

Highlights? There was one panel about how we keep our surface lives and our fandom lives separate (we do?). Which about halfway in, developed into a support group where attendees started coming forward with their tales of being the downtrodden nerd/geek/dork/otaku. Yarns regaling us with the scorn and disappointment that solely attending a sci-fi con inspires in their parents. Others still wondered aloud to the group what life would have been like if their parents were fans, or maintained the fandoms they once held.

It was really fucking uncomfortable.

So Bryan Prindiville and I went to a different panel about Hollywood adaptations of properties, their successes, their failures and whatnot. It was sufficiently riveting discussion, as this is a topic that I speak upon with frequency, being both a comics nerd and a filmmaker. The best part of the whole panel was when the moderator told us a great anecdote that he overheard while he worked in Hollywood. Essentially, a group of producers, marketers, chairmen, deskmen, ottomen, and every other hybrid of furniture and man got together and very seriously came to this revelation:

“I think we have to stop making movies that suck.”

At the panel’s conclusion, Bryan and I decided to track down Rob Balder and finally give Filk a chance. I’m sure it was a really uncommon moment that we came in (most assuredly the wrong time), where one Filking lady was playing a heartfelt and melancholy ballad upon a mandolin. In response, Bryan and I decided we needed a stiff drink.

Having said drink, and a decent meal, we returned to the Filk Circle and had a seat. They were now on Sea Shanties. And the flow of the evening would continue to “invoke” other topics or other songs, and invocations could not be ignored. Being delightfully drunk, I was able to enjoy the Filking very much. I even got into it at times, supplementing with my own vocal percussions (colloquially referred to as Beat Boxing), and it was fucking grand.

The next day found us waking up ass early at the crack of 9:40AM to attend our Webcomics Panel. The charming Charley Parker was there waiting for Rob, Bryan and I, and we had soon realized that Rich Burlew would not be attending. We had resolved to go on in his stead, carrying the Webcomics Gonfalon proudly. We discussed a lot about how webcomics are made, the collectives trend, the Webcomic Telethon, the definition of “comics” as a medium, and so on and so on. It was a successful panel, overall. The people seemed generally interested in the topic at hand, which spells victory in my book.

At panel’s conclusion, it was on. We were hosting a suite party that night, and preparations were duly underway. I had to procure Cranberry Concentrate and a Stolen Blender, which sent me down to South Street, and my apartment. Despite my roommate’s awareness and approval of the blender being taken, I requested that he at least pretend I was taking it against his will. To which he would not oblige. Kindly son of a bitch.

Also, I grabbed a very special girl and brought her with me back to the convention. We walked around and checked out the art, most of which we agreed was cool but would never be seen on the wall of any place we lived. Also we checked out the vendor’s room, and I spent a good 25 minutes deliberating over whether or not I should buy a Gunblade replica. I’m glad I didn’t, because that’s $55 that’s better spent on family for the holidays. Also, killing people is illegal, so the need for owning such a thing is minimal.

Soon after, the partying was under way. Many parties, many rooms, but I have to say that our party had far and beyond the best drinks and the best atmosphere. That’s because we’re awesome, and therefore everyone else is not. Rob and Mike Pederson where the benevolent hosts and fun-slingers extraordinaire. The evening was, indeed, pretty fucking cool.

This morning milady and I decided to bail imminently. It’s finals week after all and work was to be done. The staffers were very friendly, the programming was solid (for y’know, book people), and the partying was very decent. A splendid “Relaxicon,” as they call ‘em.

And to all you new folks reading this here blog, I say welcome. Stay a while and listen. Likely, you’re souls in search of answers. Additional Diablo Quote. Now, I’m off to recluse myself into final papers and other such doom.

This entry was posted on Sunday, December 11th, 2005 at 5:06 pm and is filed under Events. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.