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DW-peoples dinner

Sometimes, I think that some parts of this must be the best of all possible universes, for I would be hard-pressed to imagine one better. (Other times, not so much, but this is one of the good times.) Part 1: dinner!

Friday night, there was the Dreamwidth Open Beta Party at the Delancey Street Restaurant. I got gloriously lost on my way there, because a vague disclaimer is no-one's friend when it comes to public transportation, particularly public transportation where the correct connection information varies depending on time of day. Happily for me and my sour mood, my pathetic nod to "Trying to Communicate" resulted in a direct message from [info]jd, a desperate call back from me, and subsequent directions back down underground to seek train-time. I arrived safely, albeit late.

Attending were: [info]ataniell93, [info]jamoche, [info]damned_colonial, [info]gracecourage, someone with long green hair whose name I did not catch, [info]zdashamber, [info]whump, [info]cynthia1960, and me. There may have been someone else as well.

On my way there, some more Dreamwidth as compared to LiveJournal similarities/differences had struck me, so I was tumbling those things over and over in my brain. There was game-chatter. There was fandom-chatter. I networked with [info]whump a bit (and downloaded Second Life, much to my amazement, upon returning home). Partway through all of it, I got a bright idea and started grinning like a maniac as I scribbled bits and pieces down. No, not fic or game, geek meta, an expansion on some of the stuff that had been forming on BART. There was locality-chatter, and ancestry, and all manner of fun.

There was dessert. Glorious hot fudge sundae, how I love you. Oh, iPhone, how you taunt me, there is no way to set a custom tone for the arrival of a text message for a single sender. (If there had been, I would have assured myself of the instructions, betaken myself to my computer, recorded "HEY MARK! HEY MARK! HEY MARK!" on the good microphone, then packaged up the lot to send to [info]synecdochic so she could tamper with [info]xb95's phone while he was sleeping, awaiting the next text message from nagios. Oh, how I amuse myself.)


Upon arriving home, life abruptly became less-awesome, as my friends page brought me the unwelcome news of Gordy (Mr. Out)'s death. It still doesn't seem real, quite. I tried to figure out Second Life and then started compiling my tribute (which his mother found on a Google trawl this evening).
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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