EJess (psychopenguin) wrote,
EJess
psychopenguin

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Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman Neil Gaiman Neil Gaiman Neil Gaiman Neil Gaiman.

OH MY FUCKING GOD. I saw him. Heard him speak. Took photos. Met him. STOOD DIRECTLY NEXT TO THE MAN, BREATHED THE SAME AIR, INHABITED THE SAME PERSONAL-SPACE BUBBLE. My arm brushed that infamous leather jacket whilst standing beside him for a photo. I AM NEVER WASHING THIS ARM AGAIN. EVER. EVER. HE DREW ME A MOUSEY.

Okay. Okay. Elaine's mum drove us (Elaine, Stephanie, me) downtown to Printer's Row Bookfair, which is huuuge and wonderful. Then to the library, the location of the reading/signing. I was practically hyperventilating in line, and they had to keep ordering to breath evenly and to stop rocking back and forth. And then THERE HE WAS, appearing with a puff of smoke and shot of sparks like the god he is... Well, no, he actually just walked on-stage and to the podium. He's still got the accent. I dunno, I guess I kinda expected him to lose it after spending so much time in the States. But he didn't. Eeehee.

He read "Wolves in the Wall" aloud, which is coming out in a couple months, and two poems. He's actually very funny. And really nice. And perfectly charming. In addition to being incredibly talented and fabulous and wonderful and marvelous. Then the signing. More hyperventilating. Then we got to him and I was freaking out and turned into a statue and Elaine had to do all the talking for me but HE WAS RIGHT THERE. I gave him my pitiful scented origiami flowers, he told me to "Write things. Finish them." scrawled a standard, impersonal signature accompanied by a mouse-head sketch, and that was that. I was in shell-shock mode for the next half hour.

I have beheld a god's visage and heard his voice, and my head did not explode. Yayness.

Went to McDonald's. Ordered a Happy Meal. Got a light-up, water-spitting plastic blowfish. Huzzah.

Never. Washing. This. Arm.

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Edit: approx thirty seconds after submission.
I ran down to show me mum the mousey picture and autograph, then showed her the pic of Neil Gaiman on the dust jacket, and she snatched the book away from me, squealing, "He's THAT good-looking?! Why didn't you tell me he looks like this?! I would have gone! You're evil!" and made me promise to tell her if he ever comes back to Chicago, so she can go see him in the flesh.

@_@ Weirdo. XD

Ever.
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