Settler words&music in S'ólh Téméxw, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming soon, Hair Sinister after that. —Restore All Indigenous Lands!
I don’t want to die here
not if I have a choice
took almost three months for NASA to know
I still had a voice
First day was bad, got inside
half urine and half blood
Then I set myself on fire
to make a little mud
I got blues for an orange sky x2
You think you know alone?
I’ll give you alone
standing at sunset under two moons
upon this barren stone
Captain o my captain come back and make it right
get a steely eyed missile man to calculate your flight
I got blues for an orange sky x2
At the convention, having a lovely time. Missed Cade’s concert but caught the deliciously English Jacquie Mitchell’s do, and she did this operatic Star Trek song that had all of us on the floor. ALSO Jeri-Lynn and Shawna singing harmonies for the long song about fairy tale lies and I GOT ARM CHILLS LISTENING TO THEM.
Then Jacquie sang a song about Mills and Boon and GOD mOm I wish you’d been there, it was wizard.
Lem was in a state of bliss after this concert. He was scarcely intelligible he was so happy.
I sang in songbook circle last night just the once (Invective) and said, “This is a song about my ex’s girlfriend, and about how she’s the worst person on earth and how badly I hate her guts, even though she’s not a bad sort really” which got a big laugh. The song made it into the Conflikt songbook thanks to Cindy, and hey she asked for it even though I’m not particularly proud of that song anymore, so I sang it with all the music hall gusto (pace Jacquie) I could muster and got a kindly response.
I had a nice long sit in the con suite yesterday. I showed up just before lunch which allowed SaladofDoom to make a soda run, and I cleaned up after an elderly fan who left SO MUCH FOOD DEBRIS ON THE FLOOR That I, Even I, felt compelled to clean up after (them). But that was okay because I got the full story on the Death Of Forry Ackerman, which is about as sad and internet messy as things get. Then Frank showed up.
I have to admit that I would listen to Frank Hayes back up to a microphone and fart. I might even pay for it. He played a hilarious song about reincarnation last night in the big room in open circle and yes, he pretended to forget the lyrics. Yesterday he held forth on the n dash and the m dash, the Oxford comma, one or two spaces after a period, and provided me with some insight as to why things are the way they are in editing land.
I defended my punctuation choices by stating that I come to prose through poetry and give punctuation points not because of ‘the rules’ which are arbitrary place markers of contemporary taste and the laziness of typesetters and the ongoing rear guard of bitching assholes about how English must be defended against all comers at all costs, at which point someone, I think Lem, said, “Which English, there are rather a lot of them…”
I’ve shown a lot of people the cover mockup for Hair Sinister.
Tom and Peggy came from a funeral. Tom lost a best friend and I feel for him so. His friend was a sailing partner and now that part of life (including the shrimp traps NOM) is much truncated for him. LIFE SUCKS YO.
Got the front pew scoop on the polyamory shitstorm at the Newton church in Maine. VERY INTERESTING STORY and I kept thinking, as I listened, Oh this would never happen at Beacon and then realized that it already had when John S. shut me and Peggy down from putting polyamory on the table for our Welcoming Congregation efforts back in the day. I was ecstatic when he and his wife quit the church over not getting their way about the minister. Which is sort of what I did, so I’ve got a big crunchy cud of reflection on that when I have the strength. But really I was tired of people who are demented asking me if I have a job yet. You’re not allowed to yell at demented old ladies, it’s not nice, and since I can no longer guarantee that I’ll keep my temper or not cry (probably more to the point) under those circumstances I’m going to stay home. Oh, and I had a long time church member tell me WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT HAPPY HERE WE LET YOU BE ON THE BOARD AND WE KNEW YOU WERE POLY.
Helluva thing to say to someone WHO WAS ACCLAIMED. I’ll just let you sit with that two seconds. And they begged me to be Treasurer, so it’s all a bit much really. When your welcome is contingent on a positive answer for “what have you done for us lately” it’s no welcome, it’s a fucking scam. Which is not to say I wouldn’t recommend the church to a young family or an older seeker, but in many ways it’s become a closed religious club for those who still survive of the founders.
But the really big news from yesterday is that one of my all time fave coworkers – Sandy P – with whom I never got to actually work since she mostly worked from home in WA while I was in BC, drove to see me at the hotel and we had beers and LAUGHED OUR ASSES OFF. She is a total mensch and I loves her. It was a great day, and I was in bed by midnight, so I’ve essentially missed all the good filking for YET ANOTHER CONFLIKT. Ha. Time to get some brekky – I may walk up the street to Denny’s.
OMG the grind I need a change of scene. OH WHAT’S THIS I’m going to Conflikt at the end of the week for the weekend! so don’t expect that word count to move much until next week. I’ll be gone Friday and back sometime on Monday.
No word on whether Mike is joining me yet. Paul plans on day trips but staying with Janice to dodge hotel feels, I mean fees. I’ve rented a car for Friday just in case.
I haven’t been practicing much but I’m so looking forward to just being there and listening. I’ve been very tense with waiting for my turn to play in the past but if I go this time with no expectation except The Traditional Steak Dinner with Blind Lemming Chiffon (which he may dodge this year, he says he’s dieting) and the Filkenchantment Orchestra that is the luncheon, so more food than singing. And I get to see bunches of people I don’t normally get to see. Happy sigh.
Cake, Pudding and Cheese are the three alien babies who named themselves after food because food is always popular among humans. Apex predators aren’t supposed to name themselves after food, that is just wrong, but some of the babies have names like Doofus (“Nobody will be afraid of an alien named Doofus” and Etazonia (which is a variant of États-Uni, so one of the kids named herself after the United States, which is also pretty bizarre.) They have briefly shown up at a family reunion – just long enough to mention that they’ve been rehearsing, and to sing a three part version of “The Giant Squid has Not” – with animations, sound effects, and stage business – on their way to a gig on the Island. So I didn’t really write 500 words yesterday, it was 500 less the words I quoted from Brooke’s song, which was just the first verse. Hey, their dad’s a filk fan, and why the hell not. I’m going to write about what I know, right? bwa ha, ha ha.
Some of the babies were named by their mother and their mother’s current squeeze (Kima and Michel are a very cute couple.) But when you’re having 175 babies at once some of them get away on you before you can name them. Hey, it was an accident. It’s hard to do something right when you’ve never done it before and there’s no precedent.
Jeff, who is a life-saver, got treats yesterday AND got malware off my Mac, which is very very happy making.
Margot jumped up onto the sofa to say hi yesterday and accept skritches when we were watching some tv… She rarely does this when both of us are there. Buster is usually sitting on my side of the sofa and I must threaten him with the Giant Setting Bum of Allegra which usually means that Jeff rescues him from being crushed milliseconds before he gets mashed into the cushion because he is unconcerned by impending doom. He is the least ready-to-take-offense-or-be-frightened cat I’ve ever met.
Hell on Wheels continues to entertain, the new Patrick Stewart sitcom (Blunt Talk) is uneven but when funny EXCRUCIATINGLY so, Brent Spiner shows up in a guest slot that will make all the fans go squee, and if you don’t want to watch Walter Blunt /Patrick Stewart down three Ambien when he was expecting three Provigil while sucking back marijuana edibles like an East Burnaby ‘hood rat and washing them down with scotch, you shouldn’t watch it. Jeff and I were both very entertained by the opening shot. Patrick Stewart doesn’t just have a bald head, he has an ICONIC bald head.
It seems clear that a new generation of comedy writers is taking on the half hour sitcom format and making it new. Grace and Frankie, the Brink and Blunt Talk (and bunches of others we haven’t seen because we’re not fans of the writers or stars) are sophisticated, funny, humane, well-acted, written and directed and they move like screwball comedies on rails.
Did you know that JFK was accidentally shot by his own security detail? Many things about the shooting now make much more sense in the light of this new theory.
The Mr. Robot season finale didn’t air because some content was too similar to a shooting in the US which happened during the same news cycle, so they had to can it — we’ll see it later. And props to the show runners and network for giving it a rest. The fans will wait. The Rick and Morty was okay, there were some good laughs and Keith David as a voice actor is always worth the listen.
also.
Almost every single episode of West Wing that we’re watching is pulling its news from CURRENT headlines – and the show’s been off the air almost a decade. Sometimes the overlaps are so freaky that Jeff just look at each other all o,O like what the HELL man. Last night it was ‘we’re really close to curing cancer’ and it was so similar to the recent news it was surreal. And people torching AME churches and school shootings, it’s all…. yeah.
Everybody drive safe this weekend. There may be flash floods and overwhelmed streams and sewers may make for trouble in low lying areas. We’re still going to be on water restrictions.
Mike has returned from South Africa, the single most brutal business trip he’s ever been on, and Jarmo had his last day yesterday at Evilcorp. Mike took me to supper last night. Just for future reference, the steak sandwich special for 10 bucks on Thursday night is totally worth it; best beef for the price I’ve had in ages.
Undead Cat
Lyrics by Rob Wynne
(TTTO: “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel)
Undead cat
It’s not living now, and that is that
But somehow it still can move around
No you’re never gonna keep it down
You’d better run from the undead cat
You won’t win if you get in a spat
And if the sight of it should give you pause
You’re gonna die by its undead claws
And drooling maw
And when you see where it is
It’s too lay-ay-ate
And when you wake up
You make up its play-ay-ate
You’ll see that you now are dead
Your poor sod
You’ve been fed to the undead cat
And your flesh has made it sleek and fat
And when it’s tired of its catnip toys
It will go hunting for more girls and boys
Because they’re moist
Undead cat
In Spanish, viviendo muerto gat-
O, maybe someday when you’re on your own
Out in the woods, you hear a yowling moan
Won’t make it home
And where it’s stalking
You’ll find you’re its prey-ay-ay
There’s no use talking
Unless it’s to pray-ay-ay
You’ll see that you now are dead
Your poor sod
You’d should’ve fled from the undead cat
You won’t win if you get in a spat
And if the sight of it should give you pause
You’re gonna die by its undead claws
And drooling maw
Instant mini housefilk at Cindy’s place; me and Paul and Cindy and Miss K for appreciative audience. SUCH A GOOD TIME. Also we gave blood then we ate Indian food and went to the Bloedel Conservatory and I got into a discussion with a parrot and then nearly passed out from being down a pint and Paul sat with me for the 20 minutes it took for me to recover… all this happened before the housefilk. Feeling fine now but tired obvs, it was quite a day. Funny story… go to give blood at the Oak St Clinic, gal at reception asks “are you Mary?” which I hear as Are You Married, and I say no we’re divorced. So now on top of everything else I need to get my hearing checked.
Falling and dying x 3 In Dark Souls II I've only ever kibitzed when my brother played this game The NPCs pee on his leg and call it gentle rain And soon enough the gravity will trigger this refrain Falling and dying x 3 In Dark Souls II He stepped into a box one day and he emerged a girl He thought he'd give the mincing walk they gave her a short whirl But really he would rather be an armoured flying squirrel! Falling and dying x 3 In Dark Souls II bridge: Typos in the weapons descriptions No way to pause it to pee Boss fights that come out of nowhere You'd better be ready to be... Falling and dying x 3 In Dark Souls II As fickle as the weather in Vancouver and as nice Merchants you need badly who will only show up twice They overseason everything but only use one spice Falling and dying x 3 In Dark Souls II Spoken... Man I'm sure glad I'm not the one who has to keep the torches lit in that place...
I have filked a Mary Chapin Carpenter tune
Didn’t expect to be in this position, didn’t expect to have to rise above
My reputation as a social critic, I’ve been a lazy lady about one love but
Oh the horror and the feelings that the latest shooting gives me
It’s been too long since yelled in my good ear
Shut up and witness
all such things as copyright belong to him If you know the song, you’ll be howling by the end, and I think it’s a masterpiece
SONG-O-MATIC #15-13
Tune = Taylor Swift, “Shake it Off”
Definitely doing this one at Sasquan. Definitely needs a music video.
I don’t know how to play
I read my life away
That’s what people say, uh-huh
And then they look away
What I put on display
May rub them the wrong way
Well, be that as it may, uh-huh
I’m doing it my way
I’m animating, I’m not hibernating
It’s so fascinating, I’m at the World Con, and it’s gonna be alright
‘Cause the panelists will speak, speak, speak, speak, speak, speak
And the filkers gonna shriek, shriek, shriek, shriek, shriek, shriek
We’re gonna have all week, week, week, week, week, week, week
To geek it up, geek it up!
The cosplay will be chic, chic, chic, chic, chic, chic
And steampunk is antique, tique, tique, tique, tique, tique
It’s all in the technique, nique, nique, nique, nique, nique
We’ll geek it up, we’ll geek it up!
Sci-fi and fantasy
They set my spirit free
And that’s what they don’t see, uh-huh
They don’t see why I squee
The stories that they show (stories that they show)
That make my spirit grow (make my spirit grow)
That’s what they don’t know, uh-huh
They don’t know where I go
But I’m just nerdy, literate and wordy
Filking till 4:30, we’re at the World Con and it’s gonna be alright
‘Cause creators will create, rate, rate, rate, rate, rate
The animators animate, mate, mate, mate
The artists gonna illustrate, strate, strate, strate
And geek it up, and geek it up!
The writers will narrate, rate, rate, rate, rate
Their tales exhilarate, rate, rate, rate
I wanna hyperventilate, late, late, late
And geek it up! And geek it up!
I geek it up! I geek it up! I geek it up! I geek it up!
I geek it up! I geek it up! I geek it up! I geek it up!
Hey-hey-hey, just think while you’ve been getting down and posting comment after comment about that rotten old Hugo ballot, you could be getting down to the biggest geek party we got going!
My best friend’s moping at my door
Going, “Oh my God, the puppies piddled on the floor!”
I just took her to explore with the fella dressed like Thor
And with a rebel yell, we cried More, More, More!
‘Cause the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate
Don’t matter what they nominate, nate, nate, nate
Just No-Award the slate, slate, slate, slate, slate, slate
And geek it up, and geek it up!
And daleks will exterminate, nate, nate, nate
And succubi will undulate, late, late, late
And I for one can’t wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait
To geek it up! To geek it up!
We geek it up! We geek it up! We geek it up! We geek it up!
We geek it up! We geek it up! We geek it up! We geek it up!
My creative commons stuff does not apply to the above noted song, this parody belongs to Andrew Ross.
I couldn’t write, I couldn’t work on the church project, I was swithering like a’ idiot, so I said it’s a Mental Health Day and when Paul called and said, “Let’s give blood” I said “What a great idea but I can’t stand it for today. I’m coming to your place with my mandolin on my back.” So I walked over there and it started to rain just as I got to the stairs and he left the front door open and I went up the back stairs so he had to go lock his front door and we had a good laugh about that and then I played Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked for him, which he hadn’t heard before. I left him the lyrics and chords, and played it enough times that he started to work up some guitar and I started to practically bleed out my finger ends. It hurts to type today, bwa ha ha. Then we played our way though a couple of Oscar Brand air force tunes, I played my way through the In the Lineup for the Ferry song (I had played it through once and this time he could play along) and then we dawdled and noodled and messed about for a couple of hours, him marvelling that I FINALLY have the intonation problems sorted out on Otto. He’s been out of sorts since GAFilk and he’s now perfect (gotdamn that floating bridge!!! it’s the one thing Peter C. did when he was making Otto that I hate) and if anything he’s louder and more resonant than before. Then I played Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked AGAIN a couple of times because I’ve shifted how I play it a bit, and was now comfortable enough that a) the tune as sung was actually sounding a bit more like the recording and b) the chord structure still doesn’t sound like the recording but it’s better. Then I told him that if we ever play it when Katie and Keith are present for music night they will be singing along with the choruses – Katie and I had it as part of the ‘get going’ music mix for the café – and Keith knows it from the opening titles of Gearbox’s video game Borderlands, which we used to rewatch all the time because it’s like the best opening title in gaming.
Then he fed me lentil soup and beer and crusty white bread toasted with butter and a Non Refrigerated apple – the last apple he served for me nearly made my back teeth pick up their skirts and flee, it was so durn cold – but I admired his new fridge, for a net cost of $175 he got a bottom drawer freezer Kenmore with the door hung the right way although he did nearly spavin himself getting it up the stairs and he now has to replace all the brand new nosing for the stair treads ’cause they all have divots in them now. (It looks like an alien dragged its nasty bits up to the first floor.) Apparently Keith hated the old fridge and did handsprings when he saw the new one and realized that HE wasn’t going to get roped into hauling it up the stairs (his job is very physical) or getting the old one out.
I told him about Replens, as Lady Miss Banjola had told me about it, and how along with eye drops the advice given ensured my life was a better place, except it’s FRIKKIN expensive and could he find eight packs in the States for me and he said he’d look.
We discussed putting together a book of family stories from his side of the family, while his mum’s still with us (doing fine apparently), as inspired by mOm’s numerous efforts, talked about some flying he’d been doing (he’s enjoying the soaring in Enumclaw, and of course I crack up every time I hear that name, for all the wrong reasons.) We talked about Keith and Katie and their marvellous young lives and challenges, the retirement party he went to at the Shark Club (where, apparently, the last pleasant drink servers in the lower Mainland have taken refuge) and the highly excellent noms he ingested there.
Then he took me for a quick shop including healthy food and unhealthy noms and beer AND helped me haul in groceries. If there is a nicer ex in the whole universe then whoever has him / her isn’t publicly bragging.
Then at home we watched a couple of titles from the second season of POI and I turned the steak into itty pieces and cooked it fast with mushrooms and lots of onions and chili seasoning, not too much, and so to bed, where I got 2.2 hours on the cpap and am now ready to start another day, and maybe get a little more done. Maybe. Not a betting woman normally.
Attending, Alex and Alex and Katie and Paul and Keith and Mike and Cindy and Tom and Peggy and we sang and played and laughed and ate and it was most excellent.
Thank you Paul for hosting.
Happy sigh.
No hours, 440 words.
Today I’m cooking up something for the circle dinner tonight and maybe going to Mike Beach this afternoon.
Block and mute, block and mute
every day I deploy you
Button swift, it’s a gift
Peaceful now I enjoy you
Weeding the internet troll by troll
Work goes on forever
Block and mute, block and mute
Bless my home page forever
(Sung to the tune of Edelweiss.)
My filking buddy Andrew, who goes by Miles Vorkosigan on facebook, read or pretended to read a book that would allow you to write better horror.
The book made him facepalm. So he decided to write a trashy horror novelists description of a facepalm, and then got carried away and did multiple versions. I hope you enjoy this cascade of awful as much as I did, because I laughed until I sprang a rib. Since I didn’t write this, copyright belongs to Andrew.
ABOMINATIONS OF HUMAN ENDEAVOUR: Before reading this book: “Face, meet palm.”
After reading this book:
My palm described a perfect arc as it rushed towards my face.
There was an audible CLAP as my palm struck my face.
I felt a sharp stab of pain, every bit as intense as the emotional pain I felt from reading this link, as I struck my own face with my palm.
Before my face even had time to brace for the impact, my palm was upon it.
My palm swished through the air and landed with a dull, sickening thud across my face.
It was like that legendary baseball game back in ’42, when Babe Ruth hit the winning run right out of the park–only instead of the final, inexorable crack of the bat hitting the ball, it was the final, inexorable crack of my palm meeting my face.
My palm struck my face with all the impact of a Mack Semi, having left Chicago heading east at 2:pm at 60 mph, colliding with a freight train that left Cleveland heading west at 1 p.m. travelling 80 mph.
Out there, in the darkness, something *watched* me facepalm myself.
My palm was out there at the end of my arm, mocking me. “Mi-yuls”, it seemed to say, “Here I am, Mi-yuls! And I’m coming to GET you! You know you lose control over me when you read something breathtakingly stupid enough—you always do. And now it’s party time. I’m coming for your face. And I’m hard. Hard and calloused from that workout this morning. And sweaty too. Get ready, Mi-yuls, for the mother of all facepalms!”
Once again…. this is Andrew’s, but really I think it belongs to the world.
“Folkfilk I” accomplished! Planet Bachelor v3.0 has been housewarmed!
1. Paul, *while cleaning up* thanked me profusely for arranging it. Hey I just wanted it at your place so neither Peggy nor I had to clean up afterwards. But that, my friends, is what makes Paul, Paul.
2. SO lovely to hear Alexis Hinde singing again, and her swansong was Amanda F. Palmer’s Ukelele Anthem, which Brian, Paul, Mike and I enjoyed immensely.
3. Finding out Hal trains people in medieval Japanese martial arts, specially with pole weapons = win. Also, he is a very flash guitarist.
4. Chili got et, but not all of it, so my brother gets some. Peggy brought plum cake.
5. Brian C. has an extremely lovely electric guitar and his noodlings added that je ne sais quoi of 60’s twang and reverb.
6. Brooke Abbey sang “The Wreck of the…..” to the plaudits and open amusement of the crowd. Peggy chimed in with that bowed bass which provides the one moment of gravitas. Plus I asked for “It’s just so nice when someone knows your name.”
7. Next one’s at Lunders in a couple of weeks, more deets later, and the one after that at my place (Geekhaus). Everybody wants more, so why not??
8. My evil plan to relieve the Lunders of every last one of their kazoos continues apace. Mine is an etc etc etc.
