Posthuman Blues

I've got the science fiction convention this weekend. I'm still not sure what my itinerary is. Truthfully, it doesn't really matter. Since I'm staying at the hotel, I'm relishing the idea of being able to sulk off to my room or hitting the pool when the costumed fans start getting to me.

I remember reading somewhere that SF conventions (or "cons," as they're generally called) are uniquely accepting of all kinds of ideologies and personalities. Maybe so, but they still make me feel like an alien.