The Woodwork

I showed up late to the Pownce party and crouched into the back of the line. Since there was not much else to do, I started to write something down in my notebook, which I’ve been carrying around since my iPhone replaced my Palm T|X.

(Isn’t it ironic that we used to be able to beam people our contact information and now, seven years in the future, we have to resort to pen/paper, or a phone call/exchange. Technology, why hast thou abandoned me?)

A friend, further up in the line, made the comment, “Terry Chay is writing in his analog blog.”

“Pownce Launch Party” by magerleagues

Yeah, it’s a moleskine. Don’t shoot me.

Then ensued some Q&A about what I write down in there?

Answer: really boring stuff like shopping lists, task lists, an occasional outline for a blog entry I’ll never write…

So if you ever see me writing in “my analog blog,” you know it’s nothing interesting.

[More pownce after the jump]

Shouting names.

Outside the party, a friend said, “There’s Veronica Belmont. I’ve never met her.” Earlier that evening, I had read this tweet about being too nervous to talk to her. I thought, What the hell and I shouted out, “Veronica Belmont!”.

(I should mention at this point that Veronica Belmont doesn’t know me at all and the only thing I know about her is she introduces herself to people using her full name which really weirds me out.)

So when the girl who turned around doesn’t look anything like the Veronica Belmont in the photos, I thought, Oh fuck, not again!

But no, Veronica Belmont just got a new haircut.

Anyone who gets bangs should be required to wear a nametag at social events for a month.

In line at the pownce

Mager wrote that I couldn’t get in, but I honestly deserved it.

I showed up very late as many of my friends were leaving. They wanted to sneak me in, but I since it was late enough that there was barely any line, I stood in line. More and more people I recognized were leaving so I’d step out of line to talk to them. When I came back, the people who I asked to save my place were already inside. After three times, the bouncer wouldn’t let me sneak in because I kept stepping out of line.

So I guess the lesson here is, if you can get in, just do it. In any case, I won’t care so much anymore if other people cut in line or get snuck in, not that I ever really did.

Oh well, at least I don’t have anyone too nervous to talk to me.

This entry was posted on Saturday, January 19th, 2008 at 7:54 pm and is filed under about me, arts and letters, society and culture. 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.