per/Simmons

Annus horribilis.

Latin for “horrible year.”

In working on my list of New Year’s resolutions, at the top is the concoction of some sort of ritual to perform at midnight, December 31st, to send 2010 packing and give it an extra little boot in the ass to get it out the door.

I’m not even going to dignify this twelve month disaster with a long and whiny list of its numerous outrages and offenses, other than to say it was malevolent to a degree hitherto unknown in my life and it was brutal to three generations of my family, attacking on a variety of different fronts.

This is not to say that there haven’t been some short bursts of brightness in the gloom. I reconnected with several old friends with whom I had lost touch with over the years. In between two of the most difficult months, I escaped to FilkOntario where I was feted and hosted and rejuvenated when I was starting to think I would turn to the “Darth” side. And I learned that I’m tougher than I gave myself credit for and more blessed than I gave others credit for.

So, ‘nuff said about the-year-which-shall-not-be-named. There will be enough reverberations to carry over and make 2011 a bumpy ride. But I’m hopeful, now. More so than I was six months ago. I’m tougher than I was back then and I see hope for those family members who have experienced their own, long dark night of the soul when 2010 came a-knockin’ like the opening bars of Beethoven’s Fifth.

I spent much of this year hunkered down in the metaphorical foxhole. But I’m climbing back out, now, and will begin posting again. And giving more progress reports on the writing front, as well. Hopefully I’ll be better at this New Year’s resolution than the perennial diet and exercise ones.

I’m putting Hope on this year’s list of resolutions. Perhaps 2011 may yet turn out to be annus mirabilis—year of wonders. After all, we’re not supposed to all be destroyed until December 21st, 2012.

In the meantime, any suggestions for lighting a fire to this year’s backside? It’s too cold to dance skyclad and the only animal sacrifices I’m interested in, involve a Red Ryder BB-gun and those birdseed-thieving, cat-taunting, tree-face vandalizing squirrels in my back yard.

Other than that, I’m open to suggestions…

It’s been a long time since a hotel last screwed up my room reservation. But I was pretty sure that it had finally happened again.

They put me in a suite. A really nice suite! Of course it was a nice hotel, but still…

And the bed…well, my experiences with hotel beds has ranged from “adequate” to “Confess you’re a heretic and be mercifully burned at the stake.” But this bed was incredible! Best sleeping I’ve ever done in years! Maybe decades! Of course, it was a convention so I was always going to bed too late and getting up too early. But, in-between, OMG!

I immediately tried to tell the ConCom that some sort of a mistake had been made: that I was in the wrong room. Sadly, no one seemed to take me seriously. They kept insisting that I was a guest and that was supposed to be my room. Jeez, if I’d known being a filker would get me this kind of treatment, I would have abandoned my writing career and practiced the guitar more!

Of course, comfort was important this weekend. It’s one thing to sit in a filk circle or even do your own concert at conventions that set aside a room or even a program track for such. Entirely something else to attend a convention totally dedicated to the music!

My God! It’s daunting enough to share guest status with talents like the impressive Erica Neely and the amazing Jeff and Maya Bonhoff. But when all of the other attendees are filkers, as well, you get an amazing range of talent! I quickly went from “I’m in the wrong room” to “I’m at the wrong convention!”

It was an amazing and inspirational experience with lovely and intimidatingly talented people who were gracious and kind and complementary. At the banquet I was seated next to a filker who had performed some striking material the evening before. I was just starting to get acquainted when I noticed her place holder. It was Tanya Huff. Someday there will be some sort of quantum retrieval device that will allow me to teleport books from my library at home: hauling even a quarter of them to conventions is inconceivable and I miss so many autographing opportunities! Still, it’s a minor annoyance offset by the opportunity to get to know other authors and have a chance to peek at the intellect and personality behind the stories and characters that I enjoy as a reader…

To cut a long overdue post short, it was over too soon. Rather than try to recapture a detailed rundown of subsequent events or the two-day journey home, I’ll wrap it up here and promise to get back to those I owe a follow-up to.

FilkOntario was a blessing to me during a dark time and its light still shines after all these months as I return to the keyboard and flex my creaky fingers.

WMS

My postings here and elsewhere have been—well—“spotty” would be an overly generous assessment. There’s a reason for that. 2010 has been an extremely difficult year and, before January was half-way along, we found ourselves going into a “tunnel” of sorts. We’re not yet through to the other end and, lately, I’ve been shaking the flashlight to see if I can get the batteries to last a little longer…

Unfortunately, the world wide web and issues of privacy are a dicey mix and sharing personal information—your own or others’—is rarely a wise endeavor. Suffice it to say that the wife and I are card-carrying members of the “Sandwich Generation” and that this year has brought crisis into our lives through the misfortunes of other family members and we’ve taken on additional roles as caretakers going in both directions.

I say this not to bemoan our current circumstances (though kind thoughts and prayers are always appreciated) but to apologize for the degree of silence and non-responsiveness that I have evinced these past nine months. And for any quietude in the upcoming weeks and months ahead.

FilkOntario was a commitment I made back in 2009 but, as February turned into a waking nightmare for us, I considered bowing out of my responsibilities as Interfilk Guest. There were many sleepless nights and stress-filled days leading up to April but we finally figured that it was more manageable to keep the commitment than to cancel at such a late date.

Health and stress issues (not to mention reduced prep time) conspired to make my performance and participation less than what I would have liked but I’ve been reassured that I didn’t embarrass myself. Of course, Canadians tend to be overly tolerant…

In trying to blog about my experience, afterward, I slammed into the wall with the second family crisis that upended our lives and schedules. Blogging—as well as writing—fell to the bottom of a very long list of “must-dos.”

Part 3 of my FilkOntario Report was partly done when this happened, so finishing it hasn’t been too difficult now that I’m starting to catch my breath. Parts 4 & 5, which I had planned, now seem inconsequential with this much passage of time and it seems best to wrap up this thread without dragging it along any farther. While I will make a greater effort, now, to turn up now and then, the issues that turned the first two-thirds of this year topsy-turvy have neither been resolved nor wrapped up. Like everything in life, they just go on. One just hopes to have a better grasp on the reins and grip on the saddlehorn.

I merely wish to extend my apologies to those of you who felt abandoned or ignored or disregarded by the long silence. Please believe me that there were reasons and that they were (and are) significant enough to roll over most other concerns for the time being. I’ll try to do better in the future.

WMS

I don’t really have a fear of flying. It’s more like a fear of falling out of the sky. Yeah, yeah, I know the statistics and I understand the physics of lift and the Bernoulli principle. But I always have this sneaking suspicion that…The Universe? God? The Forces of Nature? …are going to wake up during one of my sojourns in the air and say: “What the hell? This thing’s too heavy to be up here and, look: no strings above, no stand underneath! Time to push the reset button on this violation of basic physics!”

Of course the rational part of my brain doesn’t really believe that. But the rational part of my brain has had a lifetime of experiences with mechanical conveyances (automobiles, for the most part) developing odd problems or just conking out completely—usually at the most inconvenient times or greatest distances from easy assistance. The big diff is said ground transportation offers the immediate option of coasting onto the shoulder of the road as the prelude to seeking further solutions. No shoulders at 30,000 feet.

But, seriously, I can fly. I have flown. I expect to fly again. I just don’t like it much.

Long drives to the airport, long-term parking, long lines, invasive security screenings (Is that a metal detector wand, Officer, or are you just happy to see me?), flight delays, 4-hour layovers or 20 minutes to dash through a Mall of the Americas sized airport to catch a connecting flight at the other end, arranging for pickup at my final destination—oops, not the best of terms given the movie franchise! There’s more: tiny seats with no legroom. I’m 6-4 and a bit more expansive of late. While my budget doesn’t typically allow buying two seats, it makes sense given my size and what the baggage handlers have done to my guitar in the past. And speaking of baggage, I don’t really find conventions restful when the airlines misplace my luggage.

Don’t get me started on the laptop issue…

So, after Mapquesting the route, a two-day drive (each way) seemed an equitable exchange. It would take my actual arrival time (and date) out of the questionable area that the airlines have been increasingly guilty of. And, even factoring in a budget motel stopover each way, it would even save Interfilk some money.

Besides, I hadn’t been to Canada in over 30 years and thought it might be nice to see a little more of it on this trip. I’ve only traveled outside the United States to visit three sovereign nations—Mexico, Canada, and Texas—so a little sight-seeing is always a preferable option. And, my GM Equinox had an 8-way adjustable drivers seat with moveable lumbar support, OnStar, GPS, and XM Satellite Radio (though I’m letting the free trial subscription to the latter lapse after this month) so I was assured of much more comfort in transit over a 2-day period than the Airline Obstacle Course, Multi-Legged Marathon, and Endurance Contest. At least the challenges on Survivor are a lot shorter, more fun, and offer either exotic rewards or immunity at Tribal Council.

The McMurrays drove up from Oklahoma late Tuesday evening to spend the night and we loaded up all of our stuff, which included another guitar and an autoharp, and departed, more or less, about 90 minutes behind schedule. My Bad: I had to wait on a prescription refill and return home (a few blocks at that point) for my jacket. We were going to Canada, after all.

Here’s the thing about a slightly more than 20 hour drive estimate. One: It’s Mapquest. If you’ve had much experience with Mapquest, particularly for distance driving: ‘nuff said. Two: expecting to drive a mere 10 hours each day does not take into account bathroom breaks, food breaks, and refueling breaks. Now you might suppose that all three could be combined into a single stop each time—you would, that is, if you were terribly young and inexperienced in long distance group travel. I’m not saying it was a big problem; it just wasn’t factored into the original math. That being said, we learned from our first day’s excursion and made good time on the second day. Even with a bit of wait at the border. I expected that. You can’t just have wide-open borders: Canada would be overrun with unemployed Americans surging North in search of jobs and socialized healthcare…

The final three hours of the drive were spent doing metric conversion tables in my head. Once in Canada I discovered that my speedometer was only calibrated for MPH. All of the other cars I had ever owned had a secondary reference table on the inner circle for KPH. It wasn’t until the return leg of our journey that I discovered the software switch that changed the whole speedometer to kilometer measurement. Hey, I got the car in January; I’d only gotten as far as page 427 in the owner’s manual.

At last we arrived at the Delta Hotel Thursday evening: and so Childe Roland to the Darke Tower came…

Stay Tuned for Part 3

It just wasn’t going to be easy…

I knew that, spending this past year trying to reconstruct my core filk notebook. I have two large notebooks crammed with other people’s filk music. At issue was the slender notebook that contained MY material and the select pieces I use in my own concert sets. It went missing a couple of years ago and I suspect it got lost at my last FenCon appearance.

It took awhile to realize that it was gone. Post-convention recovery usually means I don’t worry much beyond unpacking my razor and toothbrush and debriefing the cats before falling into bed to stave off a week’s worth of narcolepsy. The guitar rarely returns to its musty corner until Tuesday evening at the earliest.

It took a couple of months to be sure that my core filk book, a slender binder easily misplaced among dozens of larger binders and hundreds of books, was actually missing and not simply misplaced.

I wasn’t too distraught. Then. Surely someone knew of its whereabouts, others had copies of my primary material, there were backups and assorted electronic files on my laptop…

A year later, no one had any idea as to where the binder might have ended up; the people who had copies, had copies of what I had backed up; and there wasn’t that much backed up that survived as I had gone through a succession of computers as well as hard drive restorations over the past several years. Still, as I had considered myself semi-retired from both the filk and convention circuit I wasn’t feeling too much pressure to reconstruct my core playlist. At least there were other deadlines more pressing.

Then I got the call from Interfilk asking if I would be willing to be their guest representative to FilkOntario in 2010. After consulting the Mayan calendar to confirm that the world would not end for another two years and getting reassurances that this was not part of some larger conspiracy to renew hostilities with Canada, I accepted.

You always think you have more time than you actually do. And the last time I had been to Canada (34 years ago) I didn’t require a passport. Nor did I know that there are two different kinds of birth certificates, of which, only one counts as far as the government is concerned. Guess which I had?

There followed a succession of family “situations”—being the middle part of what is called the sandwich generation. My mother has lost a chunk of her short-term memory and my son has moved back home as he grapples with unemployment, a divorce, and severe depression. There’s nothing like family to keep your mind off your own troubles…

A month before the convention, my computer crashes. I spend the better part of a week trying to root out the virus that took it down and then half of another, wiping the hard drive and doing a complete reinstall. A week later it crashes again. Either the virus was well-hidden in my back-up or it came back again—despite my Norton Symantic and Malwarebytes software. Guess I gotta stay away from that Russian Mail-order Brides website…

A week before the convention, it happens again and believe me: the third time is NOT a charm. Though I am getting much better at the wiping and reinstalling by now. Unfortunately, there will not be time to get everything back up to speed before I depart and, even now, there is much to do to get everything back to the way it was and working the way it should.

Also, three weeks before the Con, I take my Ovation 12-String Acoustic/Electric guitar in to get the neck straightened and restrung. I even spring to have the nine-volt battery replaced inside that powers the pre-amp. This causes a hitch in the 24-hour turnaround as the pickup is dead and parts won’t be in for the better part of a week. I nix the pickup fix as time is short, money is shorter, and I actually jack my guitar into an amp about twice every decade. It’s a filk convention and there will probably be more Mikes than you’d find in an Irish bar.

The medium gauge strings feel all right but I’m not getting the pitch I want. No one carries heavy gauge 12-string sets within driving distance so I have to order them. A week later I’ve restrung my guitar but the heavies need more seasoning time to set and be properly broken in. I waste a week to discover that they’re not going to work out like I’d hoped. Now there are no medium gauge sets of 12s within driving distance and I’m supposed to be on the road in four days. I buy a set of light 12s. It’s not just that I think light 12s are for sissies, I really want something with a lower pitch and more bass and brass. I’m a baritone/bass and the lites are generally not a good match for me. But this set of heavies is worse and so I restring my guitar for the third time in as many weeks.

Surprise: they actually are a pretty good fit! It would have been nice to have a whole week to break them in before my departure but that’s what you get when you put an idiot in charge of your convention prep! (Unfortunately, I am all that I can afford.)

Did I mention income taxes? Thank God for extensions!

Typically, a convention means taking Friday off from work, if you don’t want to arrive late. And that’s just for the cons within a few hours travel time. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve worked to arrange for an additional day off on both ends so I’m organized, packed, and well-rested before setting out on Friday and organized, unpacked, and well-rested when I return to work on Tuesday.

FilkOntario required a week’s worth of vacation, just to squeak out and slide back into work. That’s because I decided to drive instead of fly.

See? An idiot…

Stay Tuned for Part 2

BYOCon II: The Redundancy Effect

It’s almost time for the second fannish get-together in Hutchinson, Kansas. We call it “Bring Your Own Convention: or “BYOCon” and to characterize it as a “relaxacon” is to under-emphasize the designation “relax” and over-emphasize the concept of “convention.”

Charlie McCue and I cooked this up last year as an opportunity to host a little get-together for fans and friends as a bright spot in the dark winter doldrums. The weekend we chose just happened to fall on my birthday. Roger Tener threw the resources of The Dawn Patrol behind it and helped get the word out.

The concept is very simple. After years of attending panels and workshops and all manner of SF Convention programming, we’ve come to realize that we mainly attend these events to see old friends, meet new ones, and just hang-out, enjoying the company of like-minded people (or even those with differing points of view who we find stimulating). Unfortunately, we end up paying for a weekend of activities that we tend to blow off (been to that panel umpteen times/done the rubber chicken banquet…) just so we can hang in the lobby, the hotel bar, caravan to a local eatery in order to spend unstructured quality time with people we would not ordinarily see for another year if ever.

So we said: we’re getting together on this particular weekend. We’re calling it BYOCon and there’s no registration, fees, or badges. Well, we’ll provide the cheepo, “Hello, my name is” peel-and-stick kind for easing the newbies in. But your only costs are transportation, food, and lodging (see my website for details). And any free-will contribution you may or may not wish to make to the “consuite.”

Even though I was as sick as dog when the weekend rolled around, I think everyone had a good time and so we’re doing it again. Just not on my birthday this time. It’s March 5-7 this year and—I don’t know about Charlie—but I’m working that day so I’ll be there between 5:00 and 5:30 p.m.

We have a suite. That’s it. Last year it served as the consuite, programming room, film room, filk space, and dealers room. It was on the second floor of the Grand Prairie Hotel and Convention Center last year. This year it is on the first floor: a vast improvement as it opens out onto the Atrium and there are no elevators.

The general guidelines are the same.

Behave responsibly: don’t do anything that would get you (or anyone else) in trouble.

You want SF movies or TV episodes? Bring ‘em. And something to play ‘em on.

You got books (or stuff) to hawk? You’re responsible for ‘em.

You want to engage in some sort of organized activity? It’s up to you to organize it (and find willing participants).

As we charge no fees or dues, the consuite is not stocked with food beyond what anyone volunteers to bring or contribute. A jar for any freewill contributions will be available for helping to defray the cost of the room, ice, and any snackage that might make an appearance. We certainly wouldn’t mind any food or beverage contributions (homemade or commercial).

Bring Your Own Con is just that. The weekend is what you bring to it, what you make of it. Kick back and enjoy the company with little demand and low expectations.

Last year we had between 20 and 30 folks show up. Obviously we don’t have registration records and keeping track of fen is like herding cats so just a guesstimation. Since this year is less of an “event” and we haven’t pushed it so much, and given the state of the economy, we may just have 5 to 10 this year. Suits us just fine: we like intimate. If 50 show up, it could be dangerous. Hmmm, dangerous could be fun, too!

The point of all of this was to have an informal, weekend get-together when schedules are a little less hectic and folks might be looking for something to do (but nothing too expensive or demanding).

So, five days from now we’re gonna hang again. If you’d like to hang with us, come on down. Or up. Or over. Details (if you can call them that) at my website at: http://www.wmsimmons.com/BYOC.htm

It’s been a decade since I’ve talked about this—or perhaps I should say “ten years.”

I’ve put up with a certain amount of dumbing down and outright misinformation on a variety of cultural fronts over the years but I’m old enough to qualify for “curmudgeonhood” now and I’m going to take a moment to indulge my inner pedagog.

Despite the onslaught of “A Look Back at the ****** of the Past Decade” specials, IT WON”T BE THE END OF “THIS DECADE” FOR ANOTHER ELEVEN AND A HALF MONTHS!

Look, folks, the New Millennium didn’t start until January 1st, 2001. We tried to tell you a deca—er—ten years ago but no! Everyone wanted to party big time in 2000. A year early. Okay. 2000: Big Round Number! I get it. Blow off the math and join in the world-wide celebrations. Ignore the nattering nabobs who tried to explain how the calendar really tallies time. It is/was 2000! Party like it’s (sorry, Prince) 2001!

But are we going to go off calendar every 10 years from now on?

C’mon. Count using your fingers. Or your toes. Whichever you prefer as long as they’re two complete sets of “five” each. Go ahead: count.

Did you go: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10?

Of course you did. (Unless you’re genetically damaged.)

It’s a safe bet you DIDN’T go: 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9!

THIS decade (along with the new millennium) officially started in 2001.

The NEXT decade starts in 2011.

I know it’s a little thing compared to the Big Issues, the Crucial Issues, that we grapple with as individuals, groups, tribes, nations, species…

But if we ever want to negotiate so that we’re all on the same page…

…shouldn’t we try to all be living in the same decade?

WMS

P.S. Don’t start any non-Gregorian calendar nonsense with me. Mayan, Julian, Chinese, Persian, Hebrew…a decade is a decade is a decade.

And there was no such thing as the “Year Zero.”

With the exception of a 1962 low budget Ray Milland flick.

And “ISO 8601:2004.”

‘Nuff said.

The new website is up and running! The old URL (as of this afternoon) redirects surfers to the new site. It’s been a number of months since I started the process but work, health, computer replacements, and numerous extracurricular projects and requests intruded.

Although the new site is unfinished—more of a work-in-progress—the consolidation makes things more manageable. The Radio Kansas Fall Fund Drive ended last night so normalcy should start creeping back in within the next few days…

WMS

The laptop is back and seems to be working fine—though it took awhile to reconfigure all systems. There are still a number of “clean-up” issues—coordinating files and programs between the desktop and the laptop, catching up on emails (triple digits in my inbox, not counting the subfolders in Outlook), blogs and newsgroups, as well as catching up on related business in general. The “coordinating” issue is a bit complex as I want a certain amount of redundancy against future mishaps without confusing issues of primacy and document versions. As a writer, I edit and rewrite a number of documents where there is more than one version before finally discarding older efforts. In some cases I’ll toss a newer version of a chapter, story, or essay and return to an older version—on purpose. I don’t want this to happen accidentally. So I have multiple versions of documents, which offers a minor degree of file naming and organization to keep straight. It’s a little more challenging, however, when you’re moving between two machines.

On the related business front, I am reading manuscripts that were submitted to me several months back, working on my own manuscripts, and building a new website at my own “hosted domain.” The latter is a lot of work but offers the advantage a “private” area where I can post works-in-progress with password protections. This allows a select group of individuals to read and offer feedback without such postings constituting actual “publication” and affecting their status for future sales rights. I have just posted my first manuscript there and in the process of introducing members of my writers group to the new setup. It’s another project in process.

Blogging has always felt a bit awkward to me—a bit exhibitionistic. There are some great blogs out there…and then there’s a lot of blathering at the other end of the spectrum. However a number of readers and friends have convinced me that they want to know what’s going on with me (especially when I disappear off the grid for many months) so I’ll start posting again, figuring if folks aren’t interested, they don’t have to bother with it. I figure posting progress reports on my writing will help put me back on track, as well.

Now that I have WordPress in my new domain, I’ll be phasing out my LiveJournal account. I still have too many blog options with MySpace and Amazon and Project Shadow, not to mention my sff.net newsgroup. If anyone has technical insights into the multi-posting option, I’m interested…

–
Wm. Mark Simmons

http://www.sff.net/people/Wm.Mark.Simmons/
http://www.wmsimmons.com/
http://www.wmsimmons.com/Conversations.htm

The desktop and the laptop are both up and running, the wireless network seems to have stabilized, I’ve recovered a number of forgotten files, and found a lost cache of over 300 emails on a supposedly defunct server. The new and improved web domain is just a couple of weeks away from debuting!

WMS

On the other hand, not everyone is finding cause for rejoicing…

Hitler learns that the Avatar trailer sucks…

(Now if I can just figure out how to actually embed video)