If you’re visiting from Bruno—
Hey. Welcome. Thanks for stopping by. Place is still a mess, yeah, I know, I was just trying to clean up, and I probably don’t have enough ice. There’s snacks hereabouts, and mostly just a bunch of random stuff—you might enjoy the essay on Buffy, or you might not, and you might enjoy the serial, though it’s far from complete and really strange and there’s maybe ten people on the planet who get a lion’s share of the jokes (I’ve forgotten most of them, myself), and there’s some links you might enjoy visiting, and hey, that Bruno’s pretty fuckin’ cool. Chris is a great guy, he’s up to book seven, can you fuckin’ believe it, and I must say it was a real honor having him ask me to write the foreword, and—
What? What did you say? Did I know I misspelled Delany’s name as “Delaney” in the Bruno foreword? Is that what you’re asking? Jesus, what do you take me for, an idiot? You think, what, I have all these books by Delany on my shelves, Stars in My Pocket Like Grains of Sand and all the Nevèryon books and even (shh) Hogg and of course Jewel-Hinged Jaw and both Shorter and Longer Views, I mean, the man’s a fuckin’ hero to me, a literary god, and you think I couldn’t be bothered just once to look up and check the spelling of the name, I’m so arrogant I don’t think I could possibly be misremembering it? Is that what you’re saying? —Well, yes, goddammit. I was. Arrogant idiot, that’s me. Dipshit and dumbass. There. You happy? You satisfied? Is that what you came here for? Huh? Huh?
—Um. Aheh. Um. Sorry. I was just—uh. You know. Nerves. I just—sit down, sit down, I didn’t mean to blow up like that, no, no, please. I insist. Let me pour you a drink. Mint julep? Gin and tonic? I, uh—aw, shit! I’m out of fuckin’ ice!
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