misslizzers (misslizzers) wrote,
misslizzers
misslizzers

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The thin line between genres

So true to form, in the past few months since I last posted, my life has been changed beyond recognition. In the past month and a half alone, I have traveled to the twin boots of hedonism - New Orleans and Southern Italy - quit my job and decided to move to Boston, confronted the fact that watching Hugh engage in homoerotic Shakespearean swordplay while wearing eyeliner and a velvet codpiece is a serious turn-on - and I'm ok with that - and perhaps most surprisingly, I have become addicted to William Gibson and have spent the month of June plowing through his works of cyberfiction like a literary zamboni machine.

This is the first science fiction I've read since I was a kid, but it definitely suits my distopian sensibilities. I started with Neuromancer and Count Zero and I'm most of the way through both Mona Lisa Overdrive and Virtual Light.

However, although I feel right at home reading Gibson on my living room couch, when I went to the store to buy Count Zero, I was reminded why the science fiction section is a dangerous place to hang out.

I'm scanning through the titles and this burnt old ponytail guy appears at my elbow and he's like, "Lot's of pretty colors, right?" Beat. "It's really scary when you can tell who all the artists are and then you can tell what the stories are about."

"Hmm. Yeah. I guess SO!"

"One time, I was at this Ren Faire [oh, God, here we go] and I heard these voices and they told me who, like, 10 of The Artists were, man."

"Wow. That's pretty scary!"

[Looking confused, then hurt] "No it isn't."

and, scene.
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