I’m on the mailing list for Heritage Auctions due to the fact that I’d hired them to sell a few items for me back in 2010, sales which paid for my trip to that year’s Melbourne Worldcon. I love getting those emails from them, because it’s always fun to see what others are selling that I could never possibly afford. And what makes me salivate the most is always the original art rather than the comics.

This week I was alerted to a couple of auctions, still ongoing, of the complete originals to two EC Comics stories which, in a sad coincidence, may be more interesting to some than they would have been a couple of weeks ago—because they’re both based on stories written by the late Ray Bradbury.

The first, ““Mars is Heaven!” was drawn by Wally Wood. It currently has a bid of $19,000 and is expected to bring in between $30,000 and $50,000.

The other Bradbury-inspired story is “The Flying Machine,” drawn by Bernard Krigstein, which has a current bid of $9,500 and an expected final price of from $7,000 to $9,000. (more…)

I guess it makes some weird kind of sense that I’m following up a post on how I’m struggling to stay fit with one that talks about what I’ll be putting in my mouth during Worldcon this August. But that’s the way I roll.

I have only one meal nailed down—a 36th anniversary dinner at Girl and the Goat, where I look forward to eating pig face, crispy goat skin, and smoked duck fat. There are a few other gastronomical wonders I’m hoping for, such as the playground that is Alinea and the apparent perfection that is Next, but neither of those is a certainty. In fact, far from being locks, they may be impossibilities. But I can dream, can’t I?

And then there are the less exclusive joints, the sorts of places I’ve been visiting during my travels thanks to tips from Adam Richman of Man v. Food. Will I find the marvel that was Bruges Waffles and Frites, which I visited during this year’s World Horror Convention in Salt Lake City, or the disappointment that was the Old Salty Dog in Sarasota? I have no idea. But here’s what’s promised by Man v. Food‘s Chicago episode.

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The facts are in—spend all day at a desk and you’re pretty much doomed. Doomed! According to one study of 123,216 people, men who sat more than six hours per day were about 20% more likely to die during the course of the study than those who sat less than three hours per day. And women were 40% more likely to die!

So what am I, who routinely sits in front of my computer for more than a dozen hours a day, supposed to make of this, especially since I could apparently exercise all night without making up for the damage caused by sitting all day?

My pal (and current boss) Craig Engler’s solution was to get himself a standing desk at the office and a TreadDesk—that’s right, a treadmill desk, for walking while working—at home, and both of those tempted me. (You can check out pics of his set-up here.) But since I love my glass desk, I hesitated at replacing it with a standing desk, so my thoughts went more to that TreadDesk idea.

While discussing with Irene whether we should purchase one, I suddenly realized—Wait a minute! We already own a treadmill. It’s got arms. I’ve got a board in the garage which would fit perfectly across those arms. And since I do my work on a laptop, my work station is easily moveable to place atop that board whenever I’m in the mood. I could just put ’em together. Right?

Right.

Voila!

It’s not the prettiest solution, but if it gets me up from my desk during the mid-afternoon for an hour without interfering with work, that’s all that counts.

So what I’ve been doing each day since last Thursday is walking for an hour at 2 MPH, which is slow enough for me to not even notice I’m doing it and keep typing away, but fast enough to get the blood pumping. No, it’s not an extreme aerobic workout, but that’s not what this type of exercise is for. It so that those of us who spend 12-14 or more hours each day at our computers don’t die quite as quickly as we otherwise would.

So far, it’s working. Hey, I’m still alive, aren’t I?

When our fearless leader John Scalzi threatened to bring his ukulele to SFWA’s Nebula Awards weekend last month, I knew I had to do the same. (Bring, not threaten, that is.) And unindicted co-conspirator David Bartell, another science fictional uker, brought his along as well.

Saturday afternoon, in the lull between the end of programming and the beginning of the banquet, we found a quiet spot to jam. And luckily, Liza Groen Trombi happened by to snap this picture, which should appear in the next issue of Locus.

For those who don’t know what we all look like, those smiling faces belong to (from left to right), me, John, and Dave. (And don’t worry—I put on a tie, too, before the festivities began.)

I’m hoping that by the next incarnation of the science fiction merry-go-round, a few more of you secret SF ukulele players (you know who you are) will decide to join us.

A show of hands—which of you will be bringing your ukes along to the Chicago Worldcon?

As those of you who’ve been following my ukulele exploits know, not only did I fall in love with George Formby, but I actually went ahead and joined the George Formby Society, where it turned out I was only the 12th U.S. member.

Since we’re so spaced out across the country, we’ve yet to meet face-to-face, our only contact being via email, Facebook, and Skype. I’m sure we’ll meet someday. But you can meet them now, and by their wonderful playing see the long road I must travel before I’ll properly be able to play this four-string weapon which has captured my heart.

First up, Nashville’s Johnny Foodstamp, covering the George Formby classic, “Why Don’t Women Like Me?”

Next, Dan Breton from Springfield, Massachusetts, with a Formby signature song, “When I’m Cleaning Windows.” (more…)

During the Nebula Awards weekend a couple of weeks ago, I visited Artomatic, an arts festival featuring more than 1,000 artists, which this year is taking place in an office building soon to be demolished. I returned a couple of days ago, because I’d only made my way through 75% of the space during my first two visits, and based on what I’d seen, I felt I should experience it all. I’d enjoyed myself so much during those other visits I was sure I’d find some more gems.

I did.

Here are the images that touched me the most this time around.

Gregory Ferrand

I found this quartet of paintings exposing inner life—hopes, dreams, anxieties, and more—moving. (more…)

The 2012 Nebula Awards banquet was held Saturday, May 19, 2012, at the Hyatt Regency Crystal City. So why am I only getting around to sharing video of the event with you now?

Because the file you’ll see below was 4 gigabytes, and expected to take 15 hours to upload to YouTube with the puny Internet service I get here in the backwoods, meaning I’d only want to start it chugging along if I had plans to be away for the day and not expecting to have to do anything else online. And since yesterday was going to be an offline, wandering the world kind of day, I was finally able to get the video up.

Unfortunately, the battery of my Flip camera died after slightly more than an hour, right in the middle of Connie Willis accepting her Grand Master Award. I recorded the remaining half hour using my iPhone, but its microphone is so poor that those speaking on stage are barely audible. I may upload the rest someday, but believe me, unless I can tweak the audio, it’ll seem like pantomime.

But what you can see here is choice. Walter Jon Williams is entertaining as always, astronaut Mike Fincke is inspiring, and the tributes to Octavia Butler are moving, so I hope you still enjoy what’s there.

On another note—if you’re aware of a camcorder as convenient to slip in a pocket as a Flip that delivers equally as good picture and audio quality but with a longer lasting battery, let me know!

A new month begins, and so I’ve rounded up last month’s dream tweets, which are fewer than usual, what with the exhaustion from two conventions plus our trip to Machu Picchu affecting my sleep patterns. But still, George R.R. Martin, Dick Giordano, Moms Mabley and others—maybe even you—visited me as I slept. And somehow I find it poetic to see what happens when those mind movies are placed side by side like this …

MAY 2012

I dreamt my BSG script was rejected because Edward James Olmos hadn’t liked it. I was sad, but oddly happy, because that meant he’d read it. 31 May

I dreamt Bill Murray and I chased a burglar down several flights of stairs. At the bottom, he pulled out a gun, and chased us back up again. 30 May

I dreamt Nebula Awards attendees started to gather in a hotel ballroom. Andy Duncan was in a tux, Carl Gnam asked for my Karloff impression. 29 May

I dreamt I met a foodie at the airport and we swapped stories of the weirdest stuff we’d ever eaten as Irene looked on in total disgust. 29 May

I dreamt I was hired to run DC Comics, taking over from Dick Giordano. I discovered he left me a note, telling me to bring back Will Elder. 28 May

Only fragments of last night’s dreams remain: Geoff Ryman, a jar of pickles, cops tasering, a birthday cake. Wonder what the dreams were about? 27 May

I dreamt I was in Brooklyn, which turned into a photo, and reading the caption revealed it was 1952. Impossible! I saw WTC in the distance. 26 May

I dreamt I was a teen planning an escape with friends from a Terra Nova-style compound to live in the wild, waiting for our moment to act. 26 May

I dreamt I biked in the snow through a small town, spotted a costume shop and a comic book store, couldn’t decide which to visit first. 25 May

I dreamt I went to a midnight movie with Adam-Troy Castro that had Muppets in it for no reason. It was about the recession—with puppets! 25 May (more…)

Earlier this month, I told you about the best meal of my life. Now, because Astrid y Gaston was kind enough to forward me a copy of its menu, you can play the home game, and try to make up your mind as to what you’d order from this most amazing bill of fare (an English version of which seems not to exist anywhere else online).

First, the appetizers …

Then, the entrees … (more…)

I made an interesting discovery about a somewhat forgotten piece of Marvel Comics history while reviewing those ’70s letters columns for my post on whether we Assistant Editors were stacking the deck against Jack Kirby. (Well, perhaps not forgotten by you, but when I came across one of the answers I gave, I thought for a moment I’d only been joking.)

A fan had complained that the constant use of exclamation points in comics “can get very boring,” and he wondered why we did it. My answer referenced that there’d been “an experimental run of Marvel Comics published in 1971, during which time all letterers used periods instead of exclamation points,” but that experiment hadn’t gone well.

Check out my full answer below.

My initial thought upon rereading this after so many years was … really? (more…)