Why I read Neil Gaiman's journal
May. 6th, 2003 07:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravencallscrowsFrom Neil's daily accounts of life, which you can visit here, or, if you're viewing this from my journal page (as opposed to on your friends' page), you can click the link in the right sidebar.
I forgot to mention the heckling yesterday, while I was being interviewed on Catalan radio, as two young men discovered that you can look in from the street straight into the studio, and watch people being interviewed. In this case, me, trying to figure out how to answer not-actually-questions from a REALLY enthusiastic interviewer, who had loved Coraline. "I think Coraline is very much about reflections, and mirrors." He would say, and I would say yes I supposed it was and talk about it for a bit, and then he would say "I think Coraline is a book that people of all ages will enjoy," and I'd say yes, I supposed it was, and go with that for a bit, and so on. First of all the two young men in the streets pressed their faces to the glass and tried to figure out if we could see them or not. They made faces. They pressed their noses and lips against the glass. They ran away and came back. They began to bob their heads up and down from beneath the window like demented puppets. They waved and banged on the window, trying desperately to get some reaction from us, or to throw us off.
Then they got even more imaginative. One of them, with the help of the other, even clambered up onto the window-sill, with a brilliant new idea for a way to definitely get our attention. None of this bothered the show's host, who had his back to them. Patricia from Salamandre, the PR, who was interpreting, was sideways on to them, and did her best to look away. I was facing the window, and was stuck with the view.
We finished the interview.
"Those boys," said Patricia, afterwards. "You'd think someone would have called security and made them go away. I couldn't look at them."
"They didn't actually manage to throw me off until the oral sex," I told her.
"Like I said," she said. "Somebody should have called security."
I forgot to mention the heckling yesterday, while I was being interviewed on Catalan radio, as two young men discovered that you can look in from the street straight into the studio, and watch people being interviewed. In this case, me, trying to figure out how to answer not-actually-questions from a REALLY enthusiastic interviewer, who had loved Coraline. "I think Coraline is very much about reflections, and mirrors." He would say, and I would say yes I supposed it was and talk about it for a bit, and then he would say "I think Coraline is a book that people of all ages will enjoy," and I'd say yes, I supposed it was, and go with that for a bit, and so on. First of all the two young men in the streets pressed their faces to the glass and tried to figure out if we could see them or not. They made faces. They pressed their noses and lips against the glass. They ran away and came back. They began to bob their heads up and down from beneath the window like demented puppets. They waved and banged on the window, trying desperately to get some reaction from us, or to throw us off.
Then they got even more imaginative. One of them, with the help of the other, even clambered up onto the window-sill, with a brilliant new idea for a way to definitely get our attention. None of this bothered the show's host, who had his back to them. Patricia from Salamandre, the PR, who was interpreting, was sideways on to them, and did her best to look away. I was facing the window, and was stuck with the view.
We finished the interview.
"Those boys," said Patricia, afterwards. "You'd think someone would have called security and made them go away. I couldn't look at them."
"They didn't actually manage to throw me off until the oral sex," I told her.
"Like I said," she said. "Somebody should have called security."
