Between the undeserved parking ticket and my colon deciding it had been ignored enough, Saturday ended with difficulty. Sunday morning is at 4ish, as I could not sleep anymore. Thus, I am writing the blog with the night still in the sky, and the coffee made too early but still good.
Returning to my memories and recalling experiences of Saturday, I rose with my alarm more like a Dracula than a happy start to my day. I seemed to float, rise, sit, and look at my footwear, wondering why it did not put itself on. Eventually, likely at least five minutes of waiting, I grab and put on the slippers, leave my bedroom, and search for the morning in the house. Morning was in the kitchen.
I was time-boxed again for a Cthulhu Prayer Breakfast meeting at 10AM in Portland at Sonder Listening Bar in the Hollywood district. After yesterday’s experience of being late, I planned to arrive after an hour’s commute. I first arranged for coffee.
Breakfast was paid for in Portland, so I just made liberal coffee in my French press. When others lived in the house, I would make a pot of coffee in the coffee maker and leave the pot on all day in an empty house, which seemed like a waste and created the possibility of a coffee-based catastrophe. Today, hot water is boiled in my electric pot and poured into my French press after filling the bottom with liberal coffee.
While I have told many amusing stories about coffee in the last couple of blog posts, dear reader, know that I think about left-leaning, pro-world coffee every morning. I try to be worthy of my coffee and accept the responsibility that even an honest cup of coffee can change the world. Some of you would accuse me of next asking for the clapping for Tinkerbell and other dramatic performances, exaggerating the importance of my caffeinated hot beverage, but know that what we do matters, even making coffee, and yes, clap if you think it helps (Tinkerbell would be happy).
I write the blog quickly and publish it before 8:30. I clean up and soon dress. Today, I am wearing blue-gray cotton pants, a lightly striped white and blue dress shirt with a button-down collar, another Structures tie from the 1980s, and a navy blue sweater vest. The day starts in heavy fog, and I pick the warm brown wool hat today. Air Volvo is ready for me, and soon, I will fly through Beaverton and Portland and arrive thirty minutes early. I make a mistake. I scan the QR code, put in the plate numbers, and press enter. It fails to finish, but I think I am good. Later, a ticket will be placed on Air Volvo at 8PM for $50 in honor of parking there.
Unaware of the parking calamity, I blissfully head to Sonder’s, across the parking lot from the former Rite Aid, which has roof parking. I saw Cody in his priestly vestment, alerting me I was in the right place; he was already there. A small group of us selected this, not all VIPs, Cthulu Pray Breakfast, and soon we were jockeying for a seat in the limited seating. This is the first time here, and the logistics are complex, and seating is less flexible than expected. The food is excellent, and the coffee, although I am unsure if it is liberal, is good.
Cody Goodman leads that program and even gives a sermon. There is singing of hymns to various Lovecraftian gods which ring close to Methodist hymns such that I manage to sing strongly and boldly (remembering John Wesley’s instructions) to the surprise of my table mates; churchgoers are not usually present at this prayer breakfast and would indeed object to the new words. I know the melodies! My fellow cultists expect me to be excommunicated, but I point out that I am on that committee, being a wise cultist, and that was unlikely. That did get some raised eyebrows as the internal workings of a Christian church are foreign to these folks and seem as arcane as any of the texts they purport to study. Breakfast was excellent, and the singing was terrible, as usual.
High Priest Cody’s sermon again starts with the disappointing (and obvious) news that the apocalypse did not happen last year. Cthulhu still sleeps, and the Way is not open. Cody explains that normal folks accuse their neighbors of various crimes without evidence, using a picture of Cody with a pet as an example. Cody is shocked to report that we cultists appear to be more reasonable and respectful than most political organizations (“When did we become the ‘sane’ people?”). That factless conspiracy-based beliefs are no longer just for us cultists. But Brother Cody is hopeful that this year will be our last because of humanity’s general loss of connection to kindness, inward focus, and global warming’s impact. “We lurk.” We chant and know in our optimism there is no chance we will meet again next year.
Various music events follow different levels of success. Breakfast breaks up as we approach noon and the start of Day 2 of the H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival here in the Hollywood Theater. I find my usual seat, the third-row aisle on the left side, and Elizabeth takes her seat behind me and even brings her parents, who are surprised to meet me and to learn that we have years of experience sitting next to each other.
I sat through the start and then headed out, as the movie was starting too late for me to see more than one-third of it. I give up my good seat and head to Battle Grounds coffee and gaming store, a few blocks away. I am early for the Dreamland game offered at 2:30 to 6:30 (overlapping the films). Stephen is there for any folks overflowing for the Dreamland game, and I chat with him. I have brought Ottoman Sunset, a solo board game that simulates your efforts to save the Ottomans from history; the empire fell in 1919 after World War 1. He is fascinated and looks through the game while I get coffee and tour the store; I have time.
Stephen is teaching Arkham Horror Role-Playing Game, which is based on the board and card game and on the Mythos, not the DC comic. The system is a single box with a single story and is more traditional for RPGs, as it has a group of players and one person to run the adventure. The box set is impressive and includes puzzles and handouts (both parts of Mytho-based adventures in many other systems).
Jason appears. He is the author of the new Dreamland role-playing game. I soon realized this is not a Call of Cthulhu role playing game version based on Lovecraft’s other stories, such as The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, but different rules to be more connected to dreaming and story creation. Today, I play a merchant and a dreamer in the “real world” who manifests in Dreamland as “Lefty,” the Merchant. I speak and seem allied to flying and black as night night-gaunts who bring me various mysterious dusts of magic. Two other players are also dreamers. Jason begins a story that he has already mapped out in his mind. But the details come from word cards he deals out, and he displays them tarot cards-like to us.
In the game, I have a few abilities as a merchant, including haggling and persuasion, for which I can roll dice. However, I must use the word cards and make a story for other things. The colored cards are more powerful (and descriptive) words, and if I use too many, I may cause a change in the dreaming and partially wake up, which is not a good thing. The other players have other abilities, and Jason moves the story forward with each of us participating.
This is Jason’s story, and I will not recount it here as he is making a living by making this story and the game work. I was hoping he would send me the picture he took of our group, but so far, it has not happened.
I found that I would listen to the story and not notice when Jason directed it to me, meaning I had to pay more attention. Jason did well, but I could see it was an effort to create the whole story, fitting it to the players’ dreamers, teaching us how to play, and recording notes to move the story forward.
I found it to be an enjoyable game, and we succeeded, whereas most groups failed, according to Jason. Sadly, my dreamer was unable to receive any benefits from the dream as I failed my awakening roll and would only be allowed to have dark memories should I play again with the character (no, but not for any reason other than the game is still being created). Our rat catcher and fellow dreamer, who slew the princess at the end of the adventure (her soul was polluted with darkness), succeeded. The final seemed too based on dice for my taste and I thought some parts of the game need more structure, but overall I liked it and will support its upcoming Kickstarter.
The designer is Jason Bradley Thompson, and his game Dreamland from Exalted Funeral can be found on dreamrpg.com.
Tired and late for the start of the festival, I find my usual seat is taken, and instead, I pick row two and one chair over to the left. I stay through the keynote and the first block of shorts. A film creator, Aaron Horehead, for some well-known (though I don’t like them) films, gave a presentation about octopuses and how we seem to use tentacles and octopuses to represent alien intelligence. He includes tentacle-based shorts from his movies in the presentation and points out that his films were called Lovecraftian before he knew what that meant. While entertaining, I did not learn much more other than not to eat octopuses as they are intelligent.
The shorts were darker and more brutal than the previous set. There were no jump scares. The movies were based on stories about the unknown, time travel, and alien invasions. All were well done.
I was tired, and it was 9:30. I headed to Air Volvo to find the ticket on the windshield, which really soured my mood. The return across Portland and Beaverton was in high traffic that was moving fast, with some cars racing. Passing in the tunnel is never a good idea, but the blasting sounds of engines filled the tunnel. I was traveling below 65 this time, which was my slowest trip, as cars were everywhere and speeds seemed random.
I am disappointed to find no reference to paying for parking despite using the app. I will have to pay for the ticket. It is unfair but accurate. I have no proof of payment as the app did run me through the process and then did not charge me. F**k.
I showered and went to bed. I was back up at 3 with proof of hydration, and my colon wanted to empty unexpectedly after 3 and 4:30. Realizing I would not get more rest, I rose.
But that is for another day’s blog. Thank you for reading!
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