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New England is home to me in a lot of ways, even though I love living in New York and going to LA. It felt good to be back in Boston for a weekend, walking down to Copley Square one morning, to a New England farmer’s market in the shadow of Trinity Church. A collection of stalls offers pies and herb seedlings. Cider donuts and goat cheese, piles of produce slightly smaller, more mottled and with deeper colors than their supermarket counterparts.
I stopped to buy raspberries and donuts, but my black linen sundress didn’t have any pockets for carrying cash. I dug my embroidered black wallet out of my black leather shoulder bag, and apologized for only having twenties.
I’ve never felt more like a New Yorker.
My mom: How’s work going, Meg?
Meg: Space travel completely redefined interplanetary trade today.
My mom: Um… Would you like some dinner?
The sharp contrast between the all-out promotion of AAA titles at E3 and the laid-back schoolyard of IndieCade was particularly evident at Twistianapolis 500. Twistianapolis relies on a homemade, souped-up Twister board, a recording calling out body parts and colors, and six players who don’t mind twisting, turning, balancing and thinking fast to get to the finish.
Via Twistianapolis 500 at IndieCade | The Indie Game Magazine
“Read a Star Trek novel on your iPad?”
“Um. Well, yes. But I was going to say something else.”
I was delayed at LAX on the way back from E3. I camped out by an outlet, with my laptop and my Starbucks cup and about ten thousand press kits, all the paraphenalia of my awesome life. Ok, so I wasn’t looking forward to what a surprise red-eye home would do to my already-damanged sleep schedule, but I was enjoying reading my friends’ coverage and uploading my photos.
Stick asked — and talking with Stick again is another awesome thing, in a long list of things that are becoming awesome — if I had to change planes, and I texted back that, no, I’m flying non-stop, but I have to be back at work in Manhattan in the morning.
Stuck in the airport rocks.

This is where Harold’s Screamland would be if Meltdown Comics on Sunset wasn’t sold out.
This is the sort of event that makes me call up and leave a superexcited voicemail (…it also seems to make me forget that there’s a time difference between LA and NYC. Sorry about that!).
Harold’s reaction was a bit more restrained, and by that I mean he made some points on the nature of publishing and distribution and the possibility that just because large numbers of stores sold out, it doesn’t mean that he’s successful or anything.