Written after Dexcon.
I miss you all already. And because I did, I wanted you to see you how I see you. You are all so very beautiful to me. Thank you for a wonderful con, and for being such wonderful stories yourselves.
= = = = = = =
I am a sensual creature. I do not mean this in the sexual sense, which would be far too limiting. I mean it literally. I am very conscious that every sense I have in my body is used for data processing, and all my senses are input. I see and feel connections everywhere. In this place where four or five days are spent almost entirely in a consensually agreed-upon reality, where gender is a construct with so many nuances and flavors, where the only moral rules are that we respect one another’s right to exist and imagine, there are the senses I have in my body as I sit at the table, and the senses of the creature I am playing as I roll dice or pull cards to determine outcomes. My nature is to dive deeply.
I love that I find every-thing here. I love that every sensation I choose to create comes in so many nuances and subtle flavors, like a fine wine with notes of honey and an aftertaste of chocolate. I love that I say, “GIVE ME DESERT,” and the people around me respond with so many flavors I can choose exactly the thing I crave.
I say, GIVE ME DESERT and they say,
“I give you dustbowl, Stetson, spurs.”
“I give you Magic, flames, dragons sandstorms, Djinn.”
“I give you a place at the bottom of the ocean where the waters fear to tread.”
“I give you oasis, lush land surrounded by sand that calls to you to see what lies beyond.”
I say, “GIVE ME FLIGHT,” and they say,
“I give you wings.”
“I give you cape.”
“I give you trance, soaring great distances with your mind.”
“I give you a beast to ride, I give you Dragon, Gryphon, Winged Horse, Giant Owl.”
“I give you plane, I give you ship.”
“I give you Mouse in the claw of Owl.”
…Among my people, “Flight,” is such a feeble request. It should be done with style.
EveryoneTalkingAtOnceEveryoneTalkingAtOnceEveryoneTalkingAtOnce
and me
Mostly listening, sometimes talking
Feeling surrounded by minds who make imagination into ART
Feeling plugged into something so huge it is literally
Everything
At
Once.
I believe we are the stories that we tell, that the things we repeat are the things we choose to remember, sometimes they are fables and lessons, and other times they are shining moments of pride or glory. This place gives them to me, gives them to the people around me and for a moment I see flashes in every room, as a dice roll brings cheers or groans, as people have epiphanies or fall from great heights, like angels. Like shaman, we bring these pieces of ourselves back home, the stories become part of who we are, what we admire or adore. We polish them and share them with others of our kind, or sometimes bring them to newcomers to see if they resonate. We share the stories with children, in the hope that they will admire the things we do, that they will become the next generation of this thing that we are.
All my senses are here. I taste beer, water, tequila, rum, mountain dew, lemonade, iced tea, caffeine, caffeine, caffeine.
I smell the humidity of air conditioning, a light (thank goodness, we are not always that lucky) smell of sweat, and the odors of food deliveries and coffee…always coffee.
I hear so many things, dice rolling, cards turning and flipping, snapping down like an act of war, I hear the seductive whispers of demons and gods, the lure of missions (should you choose to accept them), the groans of zombies, the scratching sound of something in the next room that has no name, the promise of a chance to be a legend, the roaring (or hissing) of a watching crowd.
I see hair in so many colors, more genders than I have names for, smiles everywhere. I see long multi-colored scarves and bow ties, animal ears and horns, face paint, shirts with jokes that only this community would understand, and all these things connect me like a hard wire line into a culture where morality is at first clear-cut and then smudged because blurred lines make it more interesting, where villainy has value, where deeds, interests, depth…these things are the coin of the realm.
I feel so many things. I feel the snugness of slipping into a hole that has been shaped exactly just for me. I feel like the eye of a storm looking around at all the stories that surround me, loving each one of these people so very much because I see myself in them, and I love myself, so I cannot help but love them. I love how their imagination is so fertile that they can grow anything in total darkness.
I have discerning tastes. I mean that literally as well, it comes with the Deep Dive. I mean that I discern, I roll experiences around in my mouth to find the subtle flavors and scents in them. I know my friends by the way they raise their arm to accommodate me as I sneak under to be held as they discuss the finer points of the plaything I have asked them to provide. They pop out of the woodwork like seductive merchants at an outdoor market.
“I have a desert,” says one, “so dusty and dry, that tumbleweeds are the dominant life form. There is a legend they are going somewhere to meet up together. Would you like to find out what they’re planning?”
“Nonsense,” says another, “I have a desert that has been burned into volcanic glass by dragons. No one can walk across the Million Bladed Desert because the shards of glass cut them to ribbons. But if you tame a dragon…”
“If you have a more discerning palate,” says a third, “The Desert of Abandoned Dreams would be far more to your liking…”
They make art on the fly, tell stories so intriguing I want to hear them all, play them all. I want to know how it would feel to be evil and fall in love…would I destroy the thing that would save me? Would I redeem myself? Which is the better story? What mood am I in today?
We are grouped together by interests, self-chosen to be heroes (and villains), and sometimes to explore aspects of ourselves, try them on for size, see if we want to take them home for a more permanent arrangement.
It’s really no secret why I miss you all. Why I want to go back. Why five days is not enough for me. Why twice a year is not enough.