Sitting large on a table, a pile of programs wait just outside the field of vision to the entrance. Lining up in the morning shuffles you right in front of it and thus, more likely to pick it up. Walk directly from the registration booth and chances drop down dramatically. The one thing missing from last year was knowing what was on and when if you didn't have a smartphone or a printer at home to sketch out the schedule. Large hold newsprint in your hand with the details and times, it's open to being missed this year because of placement. By the end of the second day just as many sit there as the Saturday crack.
With no less than five actors from the Zeo Eulerian circle it makes this convention a Power Rangers reunion. Jonny Fairplay is on his smartphone for the entire day and a man with haemorrhoids makes sure everyone gets a good look.
Someone has ripped off the nipples from one of the specimens. The photo shows one thing, the naked man in his skinned state shows another. That is, two spots on his bare chest where his nipples used to be. You can clearly see the recesses. Other than dust from other patrons, the base of the display is clean, void of any extra skin bits. So that's a souvenir someone's adding to their soup.
Compose a slithering skillet of the spinal fortitude as 12°C drops a load of ice palms outside before a minor rise to 15°C along and the across the escalators into the Lexington Convention Center. Empty tables in a ballroom lobby void of food and guts lays waste to those sitting, faces beat and done, this is only the afternoon and we have barely the undead braining it.
Scavenging meagre food scraps from the midnight meal crossing the Pacific Ocean to entertain the gut for the hours long layover fails to sustain the dancing attention-seeking portions of your brain. The Culture Beast needs a chomp. One fix is at the far end of the International Terminal of SFO.
Bounciness in a moving walkway, or travelator, is a fine thing in the rush of connecting flights way too close to each other and without a pause for breath. Pounding the pace of the run between planes, there's a saving grace on the ankles and heels feeling the give of each stride. Truly a thing to be thankful for before sitting in your own sweat for the next four or five hours between a man spelunking his own nose and a woman in the crash position for the entirety of the flight.
Temperate, the sweat glands notch up a few rings in the rather warm morning with the jugglers convention paying company to the Australian National Yo-Yo championships on a day like 28 January 2008. Everybody wears short sleeves in weather such as this. Most everybody sane and in touch with their skin's reaction to dying off in heat such as this. Others favour dehydration. They don't talk much to people.
Charles Darwin, famous for his theory of evolution of species by natural selection, was, as you may or may not know, born on the 12th of February, 1809. Darwin Day, far more than just commemorating the man, aims to celebrate science and humanity in general. In aid of this, two speakers were organised for an event hosted by the Humanist Society of New South Wales to be held at The Sydney Mechanics' School of the Arts: Dr. Andrew Simpson and Dr. Robin Holliday.
And so this was removed.
Distraction is watching the flashes smash against the flickering play of lights from merchandise spread aplenty from the stands. Much as the force of bright ruins the natural colours of a shot in the dark. Tickets and passes to the show cough up the little reminder, "No photography or recording devices allowed."
Benito Di Fonzo walks ahead smoking a stick with disregard. Such is the state that he casually tosses the butt at the foot of the steps to the State Library of New South Wales, a bin only a few metres away. None of that though, smokers find they own their own rules to the environment and those in their vicinity. Die and we all die together, the ethos of those who sign up to the addiction.
To the captives in seats rigid and bitch painful to really sit in for long periods, hosts of the event, Popcorn Taxi lets no time pass before reeling into subscriptions and such for their outfit. Ceiling work is pretty ornate and decorative.
Free flowing flutes with bubbly billowing out of the huge white doors of the Stables Theatre. No smashing of glasses and a house facing front toward the Theatre crashes out with its arm hanging in the gutter, the belt is still clean and tight around the upper arm.
