OVFF Con Report
Oct. 29th, 2003 09:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
catsittingstillHere at last is my con report. I pretty much collapsed Monday and yesterday was mostly devoted to trying to catch up with the house chores. I worked on my report both days and finally finished it--
OVFF 19 Con Report. "Wow"
On Thursday Donald was flying in from Kuwait. Exactly when he was going to arrive was a bit of an open question, as you can imagine, coming that far with that many connections. I ran around all day, buying con food and extra minidiscs and so forth, and spent part of the time writing out the music for Moontage, which I'd just finished writing two days before, and changing the strings on my mandolin. Didn't get around to changing the strings on the guitar--or a lot of the house chores either for that matter. Sigh.
Picked up Donald from the airport Thursday night, arriving 10 minutes late, which just gave Donald time to get his luggage. Noticed again while running from the parking lot to the airport that losing 18 pounds in the last year means my knees and ankles don't get those shooting pains any more. Great!
Donald stayed overnight in the Troll's Lair, which doubles as our (ta daa!) guestroom.
Friday:
Oops; I should have packed yesterday. Instrument stuff, songbook stuff, recording stuff, food, toiletries--what else? Oh, yeah--clothes. We ran past Wal-Mart to get a few last minute things (like a change of civilian clothes for Donald), then pulled out on the road. OVFF was seven hours away.
Conversation ranged widely, from US foreign policy, abstract and concrete, to the autumn foliage we pass along the way. Donald had a hankering for a steak from the Outback restaurant; we passed a couple on the way, but they weren't open yet.
We arrived at the con during the Mad Hatter's Tea Party. I've had an amibition to wear a gargoyle hat to the Mad Hatter's Tea Party since my first OVFF (alas, that time I left the hat in a motel room by mistake and never got it back, though I inquired several times). This time I was prepared. I donned Chartre (the gargoyle--a semi-complete gargoyle body is draped down from the hat, down the wearer's back, so I gave him a name) and went to the festivities. The hostess commended him and even gave him a hostess prize.
Donald and I darted out to find some dinner before the Pegasus Concert. Hurray, there was an Outback handy. Alas, it was packed and we couldn't wait, since I had to be at the concert. We ate at a wonderful Chinese buffet instead.
Back at the con, I collected a guitar from Steve MacDonald (graciously volunteered when I explained that my guitar was the wrong pitch for Terror Time in Lancre; all the E s become Bs and I can't play that many Bs) and ran through it once with Juanita. Fortunately, she's a trouper and great with shtick; once was all she needed. We hustled into the main ballroom in time for the start of the concert.
What a concert! I heard _A Thousand Ships_ for the first time; it made the tears run down my face. _My Husband the Filker_ was an absolute hoot. _Stray Dog Man_ was very popular with Eugene (OR) filkers when I lived there, but half a continent away for the first time I got to hear its author do it. Mary Crowell did a rollicking version of _Alien Salad Abduction_, and the crowd got to hear Jeff and Maya Bonhoff doing _Knight's in White Satin_. Juanita and I did _Terror Time in Lancre_ for a very receptive and appreciative audience who laughed in all the right places. All I had to do was sing my part and look appalled on cue, so that was okay.
We turned the ballots in at midnight. I think I spent some time in a filksing, then tried to go to bed, but couldn't unwind and finally realized that my problem was that I hadn't practiced the mandolin. I don't much like this week's piece, but it's very difficult--full of double-stops--so if I don't practice I won't be able to play it worth a darn at my lesson on Monday. Sigh. Grump. I took the mando downstairs, found an out-of-the-way spot, and ran through _Little Rabbit_ a couple of times.
Saturday
Morning came too early, but I couldn't go back to sleep. My back was holding a grudge about the 400 mile drive, so I took a hot bath. The front desk will photocopy the Moontage lyrics and music. I wonder if they got tired of that request. I met a German woman going by Shaia (I think) who'd come over from Switzerland for the con; she graciously let me fumble along on the mandolin as she practiced a song. I was very impressed; I'd be helpless as a baby if I went to Germany since I don't speak any foreign languages. She even writes songs in English.
I went to Blake's songwriting workshop. There were maybe half a dozen of us there, drawing idea cards until we got an interesting juxtaposition to write a song about. Blake thinks about song structure--rhyme scheme, line length, verse structure, chorus yes or no, bridge yes or no--before the first lyric is even written. I'd never given those questions a thought until I was well into the song--usually in the pruning and consolidation stage. I did for Moontage, but there the structure was part of the entry requirements for the song (well, all of the requirements, technically).
The afternoon was filk concerts punctuated with one-shots (a performer comes on stage to do a single song). Blake's concert sticks in my mind particularly. His song about the generationship ("there's a hundred and seventy-four years to go") made the little hairs stand up on the backs of my arms. And his song about the hamster accidentally duplicated by a space time anomaly---well, you just have to hear it, that's all I can say. It's on his new CD.
I got to hear Dave Clement and Tom Jeffers perform together; the octave mandolin or mandola (I'm not sure which) licks that Tom laid down livened up the already lively songs considerably.
I know there were other great concerts, but they blur together in my memory. Did Year and a Day have a concert, or is that just wishful thinking on my part? Margaret Middleton did a concert of "nostalgia filk". I recall much Dorsai-ness.
I think the banquet came next. The food was much better than I'd been led to expect by the stories, though there was, alas, no dessert. Maybe it's just as well--I don't like having shooting pains in my knees and ankles. There were filk con announcements (it was a refreshing change to find myself thinking "I could go to that.") and then the Pegasus Awards.
There's a list of them at the dandelionreport. The fields were very deep this year, and many a song or person who didn't win still deserves a Pegasus. Remember, you can nominate them again next year!
At any rate, Best Writer/Composer was awarded to, well, me. I won't say I'm sorry :-) Steve waved me toward the mic, but what is there to say to something like that? Except "Wow," and "Thank you." I'm honored that people like my songs, because lyrics are more than just an artful solution to a linguistic constraint--they're a way to talk to people. They're not complete until someone hears them. So it means a lot to me that someone is listening.
There was a new category; Best Classic Filksong, voted on by the concom this year, but open for general vote next year. It was won by (can you guess? I did...) Banned from Argo.
After the banquet I seriously considered carrying the Pegasus around with me all night. Reluctantly I decided it might look geeky. Besides, I'd be very sad if I lost it or broke it. I tucked it away in my room. Right now it's sitting on the windowsill in the Brownie's office to inspire me as I practice the mandolin :-)
That evening was the Once in a Blue Moon song contest, and I got tapped to be a judge, which was interesting but kind of nervous making. We got copies of the lyrics for the songs, which was very helpful; I wouldn't have been able to keep the thirteen entries straight without them. Some of the entries stick out in my memory. For instance there was a guy who did a straightforward blues number called _Blue Moon Blues_ about how there was a blue moon rising and he was going to see things he'd never seen before--the foolish man be silent and the wise man speak and so on. He brought it around to things we'd all like to have be common, and how we should work to make it so in the cold light of day. He was using a metal tube (I think it's called a glide) around the pinkie of his chording hand to slide along a sounding string, making swooping sounds that sort of fit into the blues style.
Shaia did a song in German about the Thieves Guild of the Blue Moon, spooky and suggestive. (Fortunately her copies included a translation page for this linguistically innocent monoglot.) She's got a great instrument--a guitar that's shaped like a lute. I've seen one other, and I coveted one for a long time. Another performer did a song about magic powers from the marshmallows in Lucky Charms and how they went haywire when the colors were switched--_The Blue Moons Blues_ if I remember right. Ash Productions (Blake's daughters) did a song about the man in the (blue) moon losing his shoe that was apparently a musically precise parody of a song one of the judges (Kathy Mar) remembered fondly from her childhood. And another guy I didn't recognize (I'm bad with names, can you tell?) did a sweeping new take on the concept "Blue Moon" with a song from the point of view of a water-dwelling alien who had once swum high enough to see "the great light".
Once the songs had been presented, Kathleen Sloan, Kathy Mar and I retreated in disorder, overwhelmed by the abundance and variety of the offerings, to huddle in a corner and try to make some hard decisions. Some songs were reluctantly laid aside as not being as firmly on the given topic as the rest. Some were snatched from the piles and waved excitedly at each other, their virtues extolled in rising voices. We looked at scansion, at rhyme, at imagery, at melodies (well, Kathy and Kathleen handled that part--I'm not good at remembering so many freshly presented different melodies). If a song was a parody, how exact was the parody and how well did the chosen melody fit the subject?
In the end it was like picking Best in Show at the State Fair. How do you tell if the apple butter is better than the double-wedding-ring quilt or if the glossy Herford calf is better than either? We fumbled and jostled to a general consensus that at least didn't seem silly.
Honorable mention went to Ash Productions' parody about the man in the blue moon. Third place went to Renee Alper's upbeat, bawdy song about a saloon called "the Blue Moon" in honor of the blue exotic dancers there. Second place went to the blues number about the blue moon rising. And first place went to Blake's linguistically complex song about a woman who was only present during a blue moon, the space time engineer who fell in love with her, and what he did about it.
After that I wandered off to the filk circle for groups, and got to hear Dandelion Wine, a Year and a Day, Daniel and Melissa Glasser and Sally and Barry Childs-Helton. After that, I meant to go to the big circle in the Ballroom but got sidetracked at a smaller circle with Tanya Huff and Andrea Dale and Gorgeous Gary and Sherry in it. I got to do a couple of songs that will be on the new Echo's Children CD, _Nuts From The Hazel Tree_, and _Bold Adventurer_, and even trotted out _Moontage_. There was a dulcimer player there--I wonder if it was Peter Alway?--who made dulcimer music like I didn't know was possible.
Then I wandered off to bed, too far gone to even practice my mandolin.
Sunday:
First thing after dressing and eating I went downstairs and practiced the mandolin. I ran into Dave Alway there and he sang me a neat song about "meet me at the cat-bus stop." I'm not positive what a "cat-bus stop" is but it had a very catchy rhythm. I played Moontage for him, if I remember right--it was certainly on my mind to run through it then, anyway, since the song contest was coming up. I did not inflict Little Rabbit on him--at least, I don't think I did. Dave, if I played Little Rabbit for you I'm very sorry; I was tired and my judgement was gone.
Later in the morning I ran into Ben Newman playing in the huckster's room and got to listen for a while and even tried to fumble along on the mandolin. At my request he played "How's it Go" for me. Somewhere around that time I got to spend a few minutes listening to Blake taking the hotel piano through its paces, in the company of Maeve7 and autographedcat.
I also got to talk briefly to Tanya Huff, who said she'd found my suggestion (at Filkontario) about performing (basically--when the guitar goes wrong, just keep singing) very helpful, which made me happy. Her playing has improved markedly, and it was great to get to hear her again.
Later came the song contest. I arrived with three copies of my song for the judges, only to discover I had neglected to bring a copy for myself. So I spent the first part of the contest frantically writing out the lyrics on the backs of a couple of con flyers because I didn't have them memorized yet. So I got called up on stage as I was trying to get a drink of water, knocked the cup over, picked it up and refilled it, arrived onstage with handwritten lyrics and a drink, and realized I hadn't tuned my mandolin yet because I was too busy writing out lyrics. Aagh.
Okay, tuned the mandolin, laid the lyrics out, both pages visible, good, both right side up, looked up and discovered I was trembling. This happens to me sometimes on stage--it's the andrenaline. I wasn't particularly scared; I've done this a million times; nobody knows better than me that this audience is thoroughly on the performers' side; I *know* I can do this. It's just disconcerting to feel your knees trembling and your hands shaking, when you're trying to get on with things, that's all.
But this time the mandolin still worked! Always before when my hands started shaking I could kiss any chance of playing the mando or the guitar decently goodbye. This time my hands shook--but my fingers still went (mostly) to the right places. It was wonderful! Those mando lessons were worth every penny, and I *love* Little Rabbit!
People seemed to like the song and I got myself and my gear offstage more gracefully than I'd gotten on. The judges went off to consider, the room set up for the big filk jam, and I got to talk to Eloise, whose song about the Mongol Post was one of the few entries I actually got to hear. I enjoyed it very much; for those who don't already know, she has posted it on her journal (almeda) (and I filked it later, but that's another story, which can be read there).
Then Johnathan (I hope I spelled that right) took me aside and sang me a couple of parodies of Echo's Children songs that I really enjoyed. One of them was _Play it Low_ about getting people to turn their music down, and I'm afraid my brain was too fried to retain anything about the other one(s) except how much fun I had listening and how good I thought it was. Johnathan, if you're out there--thanks for waiting so patiently because I would have been sorry to miss them, and please send me the words!
The judges came back in and made their announcements. Eloise's song had won third--I'm not sure who won second because I looked away at the wrong moment, alas--and _Moontage_ had won first place. In token of which, I was given a "blue ribbon," a luggage tag of blue webbing with OVFF stitched on it in white to help make it easy to spot my luggage at a distance, and a bodhran with a couple of gripping beasts on it. There are bigger bodhrans out there, but mine is the prettiest :-). I tried it out and it actually works. The luggage strap is sitting on my windowsill in the Brownie's office and the bodhran is hanging handy on the wall, where it's safely out of the way, but easy to reach when I want to use it.
We'd gotten to the goodbye portion of the con and wandered around disconsolately goodbying at each other. Donald and I pulled out and finally (yay!) got a chance to go to The Outback and have a big steak dinner before driving home.
For us the filking wasn't over--Donald had bought several new CDs which we listened to as we were driving down the freeway. Blake's new CD, stopping to repeat the hamster song and the generation ship song and The Coming of The Great Nebraska Sea, then Heather's _Festival Wind_, then Julia Ecklar's _Divine Intervention_ CD and just about the time we started Bill Roper's _Seven Miles A Second_ we found ourselves home.
Monday
Took Donald to the airport. His plane was late arriving so we had more time to talk. Pulled out in the car after an hour and a half only to have the idling engine die at the toll booth. When I tried to restart it I flooded the engine, and it was half an hour before I got it started, during which time I panicked and called AAA and then had to call them off again before I could leave the airport. The tow truck driver was very nice about it and not at all mad.
Then I went home and collapsed for most of the day.
It's Wednesday night and I'm still tired.
But wow, what a great con :-)
OVFF 19 Con Report. "Wow"
On Thursday Donald was flying in from Kuwait. Exactly when he was going to arrive was a bit of an open question, as you can imagine, coming that far with that many connections. I ran around all day, buying con food and extra minidiscs and so forth, and spent part of the time writing out the music for Moontage, which I'd just finished writing two days before, and changing the strings on my mandolin. Didn't get around to changing the strings on the guitar--or a lot of the house chores either for that matter. Sigh.
Picked up Donald from the airport Thursday night, arriving 10 minutes late, which just gave Donald time to get his luggage. Noticed again while running from the parking lot to the airport that losing 18 pounds in the last year means my knees and ankles don't get those shooting pains any more. Great!
Donald stayed overnight in the Troll's Lair, which doubles as our (ta daa!) guestroom.
Friday:
Oops; I should have packed yesterday. Instrument stuff, songbook stuff, recording stuff, food, toiletries--what else? Oh, yeah--clothes. We ran past Wal-Mart to get a few last minute things (like a change of civilian clothes for Donald), then pulled out on the road. OVFF was seven hours away.
Conversation ranged widely, from US foreign policy, abstract and concrete, to the autumn foliage we pass along the way. Donald had a hankering for a steak from the Outback restaurant; we passed a couple on the way, but they weren't open yet.
We arrived at the con during the Mad Hatter's Tea Party. I've had an amibition to wear a gargoyle hat to the Mad Hatter's Tea Party since my first OVFF (alas, that time I left the hat in a motel room by mistake and never got it back, though I inquired several times). This time I was prepared. I donned Chartre (the gargoyle--a semi-complete gargoyle body is draped down from the hat, down the wearer's back, so I gave him a name) and went to the festivities. The hostess commended him and even gave him a hostess prize.
Donald and I darted out to find some dinner before the Pegasus Concert. Hurray, there was an Outback handy. Alas, it was packed and we couldn't wait, since I had to be at the concert. We ate at a wonderful Chinese buffet instead.
Back at the con, I collected a guitar from Steve MacDonald (graciously volunteered when I explained that my guitar was the wrong pitch for Terror Time in Lancre; all the E s become Bs and I can't play that many Bs) and ran through it once with Juanita. Fortunately, she's a trouper and great with shtick; once was all she needed. We hustled into the main ballroom in time for the start of the concert.
What a concert! I heard _A Thousand Ships_ for the first time; it made the tears run down my face. _My Husband the Filker_ was an absolute hoot. _Stray Dog Man_ was very popular with Eugene (OR) filkers when I lived there, but half a continent away for the first time I got to hear its author do it. Mary Crowell did a rollicking version of _Alien Salad Abduction_, and the crowd got to hear Jeff and Maya Bonhoff doing _Knight's in White Satin_. Juanita and I did _Terror Time in Lancre_ for a very receptive and appreciative audience who laughed in all the right places. All I had to do was sing my part and look appalled on cue, so that was okay.
We turned the ballots in at midnight. I think I spent some time in a filksing, then tried to go to bed, but couldn't unwind and finally realized that my problem was that I hadn't practiced the mandolin. I don't much like this week's piece, but it's very difficult--full of double-stops--so if I don't practice I won't be able to play it worth a darn at my lesson on Monday. Sigh. Grump. I took the mando downstairs, found an out-of-the-way spot, and ran through _Little Rabbit_ a couple of times.
Saturday
Morning came too early, but I couldn't go back to sleep. My back was holding a grudge about the 400 mile drive, so I took a hot bath. The front desk will photocopy the Moontage lyrics and music. I wonder if they got tired of that request. I met a German woman going by Shaia (I think) who'd come over from Switzerland for the con; she graciously let me fumble along on the mandolin as she practiced a song. I was very impressed; I'd be helpless as a baby if I went to Germany since I don't speak any foreign languages. She even writes songs in English.
I went to Blake's songwriting workshop. There were maybe half a dozen of us there, drawing idea cards until we got an interesting juxtaposition to write a song about. Blake thinks about song structure--rhyme scheme, line length, verse structure, chorus yes or no, bridge yes or no--before the first lyric is even written. I'd never given those questions a thought until I was well into the song--usually in the pruning and consolidation stage. I did for Moontage, but there the structure was part of the entry requirements for the song (well, all of the requirements, technically).
The afternoon was filk concerts punctuated with one-shots (a performer comes on stage to do a single song). Blake's concert sticks in my mind particularly. His song about the generationship ("there's a hundred and seventy-four years to go") made the little hairs stand up on the backs of my arms. And his song about the hamster accidentally duplicated by a space time anomaly---well, you just have to hear it, that's all I can say. It's on his new CD.
I got to hear Dave Clement and Tom Jeffers perform together; the octave mandolin or mandola (I'm not sure which) licks that Tom laid down livened up the already lively songs considerably.
I know there were other great concerts, but they blur together in my memory. Did Year and a Day have a concert, or is that just wishful thinking on my part? Margaret Middleton did a concert of "nostalgia filk". I recall much Dorsai-ness.
I think the banquet came next. The food was much better than I'd been led to expect by the stories, though there was, alas, no dessert. Maybe it's just as well--I don't like having shooting pains in my knees and ankles. There were filk con announcements (it was a refreshing change to find myself thinking "I could go to that.") and then the Pegasus Awards.
There's a list of them at the dandelionreport. The fields were very deep this year, and many a song or person who didn't win still deserves a Pegasus. Remember, you can nominate them again next year!
At any rate, Best Writer/Composer was awarded to, well, me. I won't say I'm sorry :-) Steve waved me toward the mic, but what is there to say to something like that? Except "Wow," and "Thank you." I'm honored that people like my songs, because lyrics are more than just an artful solution to a linguistic constraint--they're a way to talk to people. They're not complete until someone hears them. So it means a lot to me that someone is listening.
There was a new category; Best Classic Filksong, voted on by the concom this year, but open for general vote next year. It was won by (can you guess? I did...) Banned from Argo.
After the banquet I seriously considered carrying the Pegasus around with me all night. Reluctantly I decided it might look geeky. Besides, I'd be very sad if I lost it or broke it. I tucked it away in my room. Right now it's sitting on the windowsill in the Brownie's office to inspire me as I practice the mandolin :-)
That evening was the Once in a Blue Moon song contest, and I got tapped to be a judge, which was interesting but kind of nervous making. We got copies of the lyrics for the songs, which was very helpful; I wouldn't have been able to keep the thirteen entries straight without them. Some of the entries stick out in my memory. For instance there was a guy who did a straightforward blues number called _Blue Moon Blues_ about how there was a blue moon rising and he was going to see things he'd never seen before--the foolish man be silent and the wise man speak and so on. He brought it around to things we'd all like to have be common, and how we should work to make it so in the cold light of day. He was using a metal tube (I think it's called a glide) around the pinkie of his chording hand to slide along a sounding string, making swooping sounds that sort of fit into the blues style.
Shaia did a song in German about the Thieves Guild of the Blue Moon, spooky and suggestive. (Fortunately her copies included a translation page for this linguistically innocent monoglot.) She's got a great instrument--a guitar that's shaped like a lute. I've seen one other, and I coveted one for a long time. Another performer did a song about magic powers from the marshmallows in Lucky Charms and how they went haywire when the colors were switched--_The Blue Moons Blues_ if I remember right. Ash Productions (Blake's daughters) did a song about the man in the (blue) moon losing his shoe that was apparently a musically precise parody of a song one of the judges (Kathy Mar) remembered fondly from her childhood. And another guy I didn't recognize (I'm bad with names, can you tell?) did a sweeping new take on the concept "Blue Moon" with a song from the point of view of a water-dwelling alien who had once swum high enough to see "the great light".
Once the songs had been presented, Kathleen Sloan, Kathy Mar and I retreated in disorder, overwhelmed by the abundance and variety of the offerings, to huddle in a corner and try to make some hard decisions. Some songs were reluctantly laid aside as not being as firmly on the given topic as the rest. Some were snatched from the piles and waved excitedly at each other, their virtues extolled in rising voices. We looked at scansion, at rhyme, at imagery, at melodies (well, Kathy and Kathleen handled that part--I'm not good at remembering so many freshly presented different melodies). If a song was a parody, how exact was the parody and how well did the chosen melody fit the subject?
In the end it was like picking Best in Show at the State Fair. How do you tell if the apple butter is better than the double-wedding-ring quilt or if the glossy Herford calf is better than either? We fumbled and jostled to a general consensus that at least didn't seem silly.
Honorable mention went to Ash Productions' parody about the man in the blue moon. Third place went to Renee Alper's upbeat, bawdy song about a saloon called "the Blue Moon" in honor of the blue exotic dancers there. Second place went to the blues number about the blue moon rising. And first place went to Blake's linguistically complex song about a woman who was only present during a blue moon, the space time engineer who fell in love with her, and what he did about it.
After that I wandered off to the filk circle for groups, and got to hear Dandelion Wine, a Year and a Day, Daniel and Melissa Glasser and Sally and Barry Childs-Helton. After that, I meant to go to the big circle in the Ballroom but got sidetracked at a smaller circle with Tanya Huff and Andrea Dale and Gorgeous Gary and Sherry in it. I got to do a couple of songs that will be on the new Echo's Children CD, _Nuts From The Hazel Tree_, and _Bold Adventurer_, and even trotted out _Moontage_. There was a dulcimer player there--I wonder if it was Peter Alway?--who made dulcimer music like I didn't know was possible.
Then I wandered off to bed, too far gone to even practice my mandolin.
Sunday:
First thing after dressing and eating I went downstairs and practiced the mandolin. I ran into Dave Alway there and he sang me a neat song about "meet me at the cat-bus stop." I'm not positive what a "cat-bus stop" is but it had a very catchy rhythm. I played Moontage for him, if I remember right--it was certainly on my mind to run through it then, anyway, since the song contest was coming up. I did not inflict Little Rabbit on him--at least, I don't think I did. Dave, if I played Little Rabbit for you I'm very sorry; I was tired and my judgement was gone.
Later in the morning I ran into Ben Newman playing in the huckster's room and got to listen for a while and even tried to fumble along on the mandolin. At my request he played "How's it Go" for me. Somewhere around that time I got to spend a few minutes listening to Blake taking the hotel piano through its paces, in the company of Maeve7 and autographedcat.
I also got to talk briefly to Tanya Huff, who said she'd found my suggestion (at Filkontario) about performing (basically--when the guitar goes wrong, just keep singing) very helpful, which made me happy. Her playing has improved markedly, and it was great to get to hear her again.
Later came the song contest. I arrived with three copies of my song for the judges, only to discover I had neglected to bring a copy for myself. So I spent the first part of the contest frantically writing out the lyrics on the backs of a couple of con flyers because I didn't have them memorized yet. So I got called up on stage as I was trying to get a drink of water, knocked the cup over, picked it up and refilled it, arrived onstage with handwritten lyrics and a drink, and realized I hadn't tuned my mandolin yet because I was too busy writing out lyrics. Aagh.
Okay, tuned the mandolin, laid the lyrics out, both pages visible, good, both right side up, looked up and discovered I was trembling. This happens to me sometimes on stage--it's the andrenaline. I wasn't particularly scared; I've done this a million times; nobody knows better than me that this audience is thoroughly on the performers' side; I *know* I can do this. It's just disconcerting to feel your knees trembling and your hands shaking, when you're trying to get on with things, that's all.
But this time the mandolin still worked! Always before when my hands started shaking I could kiss any chance of playing the mando or the guitar decently goodbye. This time my hands shook--but my fingers still went (mostly) to the right places. It was wonderful! Those mando lessons were worth every penny, and I *love* Little Rabbit!
People seemed to like the song and I got myself and my gear offstage more gracefully than I'd gotten on. The judges went off to consider, the room set up for the big filk jam, and I got to talk to Eloise, whose song about the Mongol Post was one of the few entries I actually got to hear. I enjoyed it very much; for those who don't already know, she has posted it on her journal (almeda) (and I filked it later, but that's another story, which can be read there).
Then Johnathan (I hope I spelled that right) took me aside and sang me a couple of parodies of Echo's Children songs that I really enjoyed. One of them was _Play it Low_ about getting people to turn their music down, and I'm afraid my brain was too fried to retain anything about the other one(s) except how much fun I had listening and how good I thought it was. Johnathan, if you're out there--thanks for waiting so patiently because I would have been sorry to miss them, and please send me the words!
The judges came back in and made their announcements. Eloise's song had won third--I'm not sure who won second because I looked away at the wrong moment, alas--and _Moontage_ had won first place. In token of which, I was given a "blue ribbon," a luggage tag of blue webbing with OVFF stitched on it in white to help make it easy to spot my luggage at a distance, and a bodhran with a couple of gripping beasts on it. There are bigger bodhrans out there, but mine is the prettiest :-). I tried it out and it actually works. The luggage strap is sitting on my windowsill in the Brownie's office and the bodhran is hanging handy on the wall, where it's safely out of the way, but easy to reach when I want to use it.
We'd gotten to the goodbye portion of the con and wandered around disconsolately goodbying at each other. Donald and I pulled out and finally (yay!) got a chance to go to The Outback and have a big steak dinner before driving home.
For us the filking wasn't over--Donald had bought several new CDs which we listened to as we were driving down the freeway. Blake's new CD, stopping to repeat the hamster song and the generation ship song and The Coming of The Great Nebraska Sea, then Heather's _Festival Wind_, then Julia Ecklar's _Divine Intervention_ CD and just about the time we started Bill Roper's _Seven Miles A Second_ we found ourselves home.
Monday
Took Donald to the airport. His plane was late arriving so we had more time to talk. Pulled out in the car after an hour and a half only to have the idling engine die at the toll booth. When I tried to restart it I flooded the engine, and it was half an hour before I got it started, during which time I panicked and called AAA and then had to call them off again before I could leave the airport. The tow truck driver was very nice about it and not at all mad.
Then I went home and collapsed for most of the day.
It's Wednesday night and I'm still tired.
But wow, what a great con :-)
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Date: 2003-10-30 07:10 am (UTC)It's embarrassing, that's all. I feel under-educated :-) My parents were Dutch (from Amsterdam) and studied French, German and English in school as a matter of course.
I studied French for a few years in high school. As I recall I did okay in the present tense and the "going to" and "have" helper verb tenses for immediate future and past. The other tenses--the ones that English expresses with other helper words, just fell right out of my head after the final exam.