We're off to Necon, which has had a last minute venue change. It's still at Roger Williams University but at their conference center, so the camp has gone corporate. Poor Dan Booth, the organizer, is tearing his hair out and surely most of the folks are grumbling with disappointment because we're not on the quads with an easy walk down to the shore for those singing-Broadway-show-tunes-at-dawn traditions (horror writers are weird, eh?). We go because we see lots of friends we don't see the rest of the year, so that's still the case and something to look forward to doing.
No internet, sigh. I'll post when I get back.
This morning as I walked to the lake, I glimpsed a few houses ahead of me a nun in full habit getting into a mini-van. Just then I looked to my left to see a vine-covered cottage with a nude man disappearing down the stairs. The name plate by the porch said simply "Faust."
The eternal struggle continues...