Lucky to be Alive

An acquaintance of mine was driving on the freeway. His lady friend sat in the passenger seat. She was doing something with her phone. It wasn't working. He glanced over to see if he could help.

Then he looked back at the road.

To avoid rear-ending the car in front of him, he braked and swerved. His car flipped onto its back. On the freeway.

The car was totaled, but he and his passenger -- lucky as heck, I'm sure you'll agree -- walked away, with only minor bruises.

"It changed the way I drive," he told me. "I will never, ever do that again." Astonishment came over his face. "I only looked away for a split second."

A split second.

He got lucky. But you might not. If you haven't already, please: make up your mind, right now, not to look at a phone while you're driving a car. Not ever.

Not even a little.

Not even once.

It's not worth dying over.

Please.

Top 10 things you should know about Seattle's 2013 NW Chocolate Festival

You've heard about the NorthWest Chocolate Festival, September 20-22, right? If you like chocolate, you should plan to be there. Go put it on your calendar. Yes, now. I'll wait.

The festival has been expanding impressively these last few years, and is now held at Seattle's Washington State Convention Center. A little planning goes a long way.

Here are my top ten tips for getting the most out of the NW Chocolate Festival:

1. Plan to be there. If you're anywhere near Seattle, do come. It's so worth it. The single day pass price of $30 (advance price) is both a bargain and a steal given what you get: samples of some of the finest chocolate in the world, multiple educational tracks, demonstrations, and performances. And the VIP pass is a great way to make it an exceptional weekend. My advice? Buy your tickets in advance. Either way, keep the weekend open. If like most Seattleites you prefer to keep your options open until the very last minute, that's fine; the at-the-door price will still be a bargain.

2. Expect crowds. Serious crowds. Especially if you go on Saturday. Sunday tends to be less packed. I like people but last year I got overwhelmed by the sheer number of humans around me. Toward the end of Sunday (festival is over at 5pm), everything started to clear out. My advice: if you can't wrap your head around sharing space with thousands of other chocolate lovers and their kids, go early or go late. Chocolate knows no off-hours but if you don't like crowds Saturday morning or Sunday afternoon are your best bets.

3. Getting there is half the battle. Street parking will not be any fun. If you drive, save yourself time and hassle and park in the garage WSCC for about $15 for 6 hours -- cheap if you carpool with your friends, who you know want to go too. Better yet, take a bus, bike, Car2go, or a taxi. Directions and parking info here.

4. Pack healthy snacks. You'll have the chance to sample enough chocolate to make yourself truly sick. Before you know it you'll be craving something healthy like carrot sticks, nuts, or cheese sticks. Yes, there are places outside the festival to eat real food, but if you're like me, you won't want to leave. So bring healthy snacks to tide you over until you can tear yourself away.

5. Pace yourself, both in terms of how fast you walk and how much you sample. I'm not kidding about making yourself sick. And if you have children with you (or adults acting like children) pace them, too -- we can all use help in the face of temptation. Too much dark chocolate -- and most of this will be that, dark, at 70% or better -- can bring you right over the line of your personal theobromine limit. At my first festival weekend I simply didn't sleep and it wasn't the minimal amount of caffeine in chocolate. It was the theobromine.

6. Taste, don't gobble. Take a tiny taste of even the small samples they give you, savor it, try to understand it, and save the rest of the bite for later. That way you won't overwhelm your taste buds as quickly and you won't hit your limit as fast. While everyone comes to the festival for different reasons, if yours include finding out what the big deal about premium chocolate is, what makes it different from what you can buy at a grocery store, you'll want to pay close attention to what your tongue is telling you. Take your time.

7. Bring easy-to-carry tote bags for the chocolate you'll be buying to take home. Most vendors are going to be selling their wares at low festival prices so this is the time to stock up for both your personal chocolate needs and holiday presents. Yes, properly stored bar chocolate will easily last until the holidays and well beyond and you'll want to carry your purchases comfortably through the day. I always bring something I can sling over my shoulder, like a backpack. And I wear comfortable shoes.

8. Bring water. There will be water at the festival, but bring a small container to call your own so you can have it when you like rather than needing to search. I always bring a thermos of hot water -- mild green tea, if you must know -- because chocolate melts at body temperature and it helps me clear my palette between tastings. This year I'll probably bring an even bigger thermos, even though I'll need to carry it around, because I tend to go through it all.

9. Take a good look around. There will be so much to do and learn at the festival that you could be overwhelmed, but instead think of this as a self-directed course in chocolate based on your specific interests. Look at the schedule, see what appeals to you. Watch demos, listen to talks by industry insiders, attend performances that intrigue you, or just walk the floor admiring confections. If you're like me, you'll be impressed at how interesting chocolate is, how it affects humans world-wide, and what the implications of theobroma cacao are for the earth's sustainable ecosystem.

10. Say hello! Talk to the chocolate makers, the chocolatiers, and the educators. Find out what they think the most important issues of the day are with regards to chocolate. Some of the most deeply passionate and knowledgeable people in the world and industry will be there, and they care very much about what you, the end-consumer, knows and understands about chocolate. Don't be intimidated -- just say hello!

Got more questions about the festival? You might find the answers at the  festival facebook page, or this FAQ.

Or drop me a note!

The Lovely Mr. Gaiman

"Are you going to the party?"

The one you need a special invite for. I'm a Clarion West grad and a writer (really, I am) so, yeah, I'm going.

"Neil will be there," she says breathlessly. "He's got his people with him. I think he's got a bus."

His people. A bus. Well, well. You've certainly come up in the world since Sandman, Mr. Gaiman, since the days I was one of a small group of fans who gobbled up your early issues at the comic book store.

The party is large and loud. There are a lot of people. Writers, publishers, students, board members, old friends. You can tell where Gaiman is by looking for the impassable knot of humanity, all straining forward toward a central point of black-clad, soft-spoken handsome Englishman, hoping for a touch of magic.

"Have you met Neil yet?" someone asks me.  I'm confused about why it matters, but I answer.

"No need," I say. "I met him five years ago. Said everything I needed to say then."

"What did you say?"

"I told him I'd been a fan for 20 years. He said 'thank you very much.' There didn't seem much more to say."

I don't like the celebrity game. The one where you stand next to someone famous and try to pretend that you could become best-buds in a few seconds of small-talk. Or that perhaps by standing close some of their fame might rub off on you.

"Have you met Neil yet?" someone asks me.

"No."

"Where is he?"

"Over there."

I have things to do here. Talk to friends, publishers. Visit with His Potency, aka the excellent Jay Lake. Tell him "I love you" while I still can.

Lots of people, lots of noise. It doesn't take long before I'm ready to leave.

You got the foreshadowing reference, right? You know where this is going.

I'm putting my things together to leave when I notice a black-clad fellow surrrounded by only a few fans just a few feet away. I sigh, resolute, and walk over to pay my respects. After a moment he turns to me.

"Hello."

"I thought I'd come over and breathe the same air as you for a few moments," I say. "It seems to be the thing to do tonight."

He smiles. "And you are?" Ah, the lovely accent, the handsome face. He's a little older than when I saw him last, but aging with exceptional grace. I give him my name. He offers his hand. We shake.

"I'm Neil," he says.

"Yes," I say, "I know."

"I know that you know," he says, matching my tone, "but I have to say it, because it's the polite thing to do."

"And," I respond, "I know that you know that I know. Yes, you're very polite. Everyone is talking about how gracious you are. And how gorgeous."

"Oh, I couldn't say about the gorgeous part," he says modestly, "but I certainly do my very best to be gracious."

I assure him he has succeeded.

And I've had my minute. He turns away to be gracious (and gorgeous) to someone else, and then a woman tugs on my sleeve and asks me to introduce her to him. I laugh silently and introduce her to this man who won't remember me tomorrow but is, without question, gracious. And gorgeous.

I take a moment to inhale before I step away, to see if the air tastes any different here. Any more magic.

Oh, maybe just a touch.

Me, mine. Us, them.

I'm at Gasworks, standing atop The Mound (I'm sure it has a real name and that's not it). My companion says, "See that building there, the Columbia Tower? It's the tallest building on the West Coast."

"Huh," I say.

"Yeah, he says. "Taller than anything in SF, San Diego, or even LA."

"Huh," I say. And then an unexpected thing happens: I feel a flash of pride. As if this fact in some way reflects upon me personally, as a denizen of Seattle. As if I had anything to do with it.  Which I didn't.

And yet, there it is, the strange little beast, pinging up inside me, poking a little thumb toward its puffed up little chest, wiggling its hips and squeaking: "Yeah, uh huh, we did that! Us! Not them! Fist-bump!"

This, I gather pensively, staring at the tall building, must be what sports fans feel when their teams win: a sort of senseless, tribal delight that has absolutely no connection to anything they have personally accomplished.

We. Us.

Can't argue with how it feels: powerful, compelling, insidious, pervasive -- tribalism. Wikipedia says: "People have postulated that the human brain is hard-wired towards tribalism due to its evolutionary advantages".

Evolutionary advantages. We win.

Fist-bump.

A Fine Bar of Chocolate

I've been studying chocolate this last year. That's not (merely) a euphemism for gobbling it down, I assure you; I've also been studying the history, process, economics, and sustainability. I've been doing a lot of critical tasting and last year I even judged the dessert contest at the NW Chocolate Festival (see my review here and other reviews here).

Lately I've been consulting to an exciting soon-to-launch business that will offer locally some of the best artisan chocolate in the country. (I can't tell you more than that yet, but stay tuned and I assure you I'll spill the beans the moment I can.) That'll be a blast when it hits the ground but in the meantime good or even great chocolate is only a click away. if you can get something in Seattle, you can get it in New York or LA or Union City.

People have started to ask me, as though I'm an expert or something,  "what's the best chocolate?" In some ways my answer hasn't changed over the last year, and it's "it depends".

It depends on what I'm in the mood for. Do I want subtle? A chocolate that challenges me? Something uncomplicated and sustaining?  High cocoa content? Milk chocolate?  (And yes, a "serious" milk chocolate is worth it.)

And how much do I want to spend? Fact is, top-notch chocolate costs more, but something costing more doesn't make it top-notch.

Where do I get it? How patient am I feeling? Am i willing to wait to have it shipped or take a trip to a specialty shop, or do I want it quick from my local market?

So it all depends.  I have my special chocolates and I have my "day" chocolate.  I consume a range of chocolates that includes bars you can find at the market and bars you can't find at all.

In the last year I've learned to say things about fine (and not so fine) chocolate, such as "creamy mouth-feel" or "complex taste" or "nice finish." Last week a chocolate bar hit my tongue that rode right over all my other considerations and all I could manage was "oh, wow."

This particular chocolate maker currently stocks only four bars, one of which is a limited edition and one of which isn't even in stock. They're all good, but I have two favorites of the four and I'm going to tell you what they are and how to get them.

As with all chocolate, your mileage may vary. Taste is individual and depends on all kinds of things, including your mood and what else you've been eating. Add in that the chocolate itself changes as beans and manufacturing practices change. It's a snapshot, and a very personal one at that.

But caveats aside, this chocolate is complicated but intriguing, deep and smooth. The texture and mouth-feel are lovely. It's taste does not compromise a whit when it goes adventuring across my tongue. It challenges me but it's the sort of challenge that makes me want more.

And so I recommend to you my current favorite bars, from Rogue Chocolates: the Hispaniola and Rio Caribe at 70%. Check your local chocolate specialty shop, too, in case they have some.  And if you get some, be sure to let me know what you think.

"How are you?"

"gumballs!" is how I am.

How to answer? It depends. Who is asking? What is the context of that particular relationship? Did we just meet or have we been friends for years? Do we have an audience?  It depends on what aspects of my life -- the "you" in the question -- this person is actually asking about.

Aside from the part to do with me, I am faced with the need to quickly build a complex mental model of the asker, who I may have only just met. There's rarely time to do the person or the question justice before they follow up with the inevitable: "something wrong?"

Uhm.

It's hard to explain all this on the fly. I do try sometimes, especially with the cashiers at Trader Joe's, who seem very nice but I don't think quite follow my reasoning.

XKCD to the rescue! Now all I have to do is whip out my phone and point to this page, which explains everything.   Surely with this tool at my disposal there will be no more less confusion.

Your Brain in the Future

Thoughts inside

One of the cool(est) things about having a brain is being able to think what you like in the privacy of your own head. Whatever you want, any time.

Can you tell what I'm thinking right now? Can you? No! Cool, huh?

But technology and computers are making interesting headway (hee hee) in this arena and -- without jest -- I advise you to enjoy your brain's privacy while you still can.

To illustrate, I (im)modestly recommend my recently accepted story "Mirror Test" for The Tomorrow Project anthology, Tomorrow Project: Seattle available later this year, details of  which I will have announced on my publications announcement mailing list.

What, you may well ask, is The Tomorrow Project? It is, to quote their web site:  "an anthology of science fiction based on science fact, featuring an original story from Cory Doctorow." The antho will include "short fiction, comics and short screenplays based upon current scientific research and technology development... currently being conducted by the University of Washington and Intel in the fields of synthetic biology, computer security, robotics, DNA sequencing and bio/chemical sensing, minute architecture, ray tracing/virtual reality and computer vision."

Fiction sponsored by futurists. Not a half-bad idea, if you ask me.

In my story I postulate that facial recognition technology and machine learning computers will pretty much take away your privacy of thought. Ah, the future! Isn't it just...glorious?

Here's your brain now, mentations all cozy and hidden. And there's your brain in the future, where the rest of us know what you're thinking.

Privacy of thought? Cool. Enjoy it while you can.

Pro Forma Indulgeo

I don't really know any Latin, but I'm hoping that using some will make me sound erudite as I do this blog thing that I have been resisting for ohhh-sooo many years.

Bet that's been done.

(You know, there's a good case to be made that I was part of creating one of the first blogs and blogging software. We were writing a web site for a radio station in Portland Oregon in what was it, '95? and they wanted their DJs to be able to, you know, write stuff about what they were thinking. It just wasn't that hard, so we wrote the code to let them type into a text window and publish it with a date and time stamp, and there we were. We didn't call it anything. We just did it.)

I don't know. The lizard tells me I'm funny and I should blog. Of course, he says a lot of things and not all of them seem to be about this universe. But he does make me laugh, and there has to be some truth in humor, since there's certainly humor in truth.

My biggest problem with this blogging thing is that I write too good. Since I write good, the finished product has to look like I write good. So I spend too much time working it over. Too much polish.

Hey, do you remember that commericial for lemmon pledge where they spray on the pledge until it's an inch or so thick, with the voice over saying "week after week you polish your furniture until - you're polishing the polish!" In those days, commercials didn't seem to be using self-mocking irony to sell, but then, I was a kid, so maybe I just didn't notice it. Maybe it was supposed to be funny.

Anyway. Polishing the polish. Mabye that would have been a better name for this blog. Can I still change it?

In the spirit of the title, I should say something here about please indulge me with this blog, and I don't really know what I'm talking about, I'm just going to tell you my thoughts however flawed, or some other crap about how it's just words, to maybe lower your expectations.

I don't think so.

Who are you anyway? Why are you reading me? Don't just sit there in silence. Say something. Tell me something.