per/Simmons

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