Fond of rumpots, crackpots, and how are you, Mr. Wilson?

Arisia ended two days ago, which is my cue to dither about procrastinating on my recap post, and then end up procrastinating anyway. Back in The Day, when I'd managed to get an Arisia post out at all, it would have been a cleverly formatted multi-part extravaganza, laying out the highlights like I was assembling a YouTube documentary series on the topic. This year, though, seemed to be the Arisia that defied storytelling—not in a bad way, mind, but in a way that put the good things in the "vibe" column rather than the "event" column. A little time in the Gaming Room, a little time in the Dealers Room, and an arse-ton of time in the lobby watching the glass elevators rise and fall. Not exactly swashbuckling, but it was all centered around connection and contact, which was precisely what I needed on a thousand different levels. This is the only con I regularly attend because it's the one con where I know I'll know dozens of folks and get in all the hugs and conversations I need to make it through the long dark teatime of the January soul.

If there was a theme at all in play, it turned out to be music, and the making and appreciation thereof. Three things:

1) Blessedly, cluegirl was in attendance after missing a year, so we worked in an hour of loose-elbowed practice in her hotel room, where we discovered that only getting together twice in five years means a lot of going wide-eyed in the middle of the second verse because what the honking feck are the words, I know I used to know the damn chords, please gods tell me we have this written them down somewhere. Moral of the story: I need to do this more often.

2) There is an Arisia tradition (by which I mean we've done it two years in a row so now it's a tradition) of getting together with marnen and not-on-DW Dybbuk, both of them on fiddle and me on guitar, and converging at some lobby adjacency and improvising whatever instrumental jams leap out of us until my fingers fall off or hotel staff shut us down, whichever comes first. This year we did it both Saturday and Sunday nights, commandeering an area known as the Crow's Nest off the third floor just above the restaurant, an area that had a door leading to a balcony that mildly drunk congoers kept accessing to go watch the snowstorm blow across the Charles River. (Does this help keep stringed instruments in tune? No. No, it does not.) It was truly a blast, M and D are great jam partners, and had my lack of fingertips calluses not called a halt I'd have gladly kept going. Moral of the story: I need to do this more often.

3) I stuck my head in at the dance party on Saturday, as I sometimes do, only this time I let myself get talked away from the cowering wall and onto the dance floor. That's rare. I wasn't going to dance because I felt awkward and self-conscious, but I was reminded that the cure for that is dancing. She was right. Moral of the story: I need to do this more often.

There's an entry to be written about a crisis of faith I've been dealing with where my music is concerned, but this isn't that entry, and I have to be up early, and whatever other excuse I can come up with not to talk about it now. Suffice it to say, however, that the weekend reminded me in no uncertain terms that yes, I need to do this more often.

To everyone I saw there: thank you. It was what I needed.

Behold, I am Slug. Sleep was not in the cards for me last night as I was hanging with kids and grandkid in western MA, where there was a lack of needed air conditioning and a two-year-old with a fondness for kicking me in the ribs. I followed it up with a burrito for dinner that had some sort of personal vendetta with my GI tract that I don't have details on, and so yes, a Slug I am. rain_herself, meanwhile, is dealing with some horrible coughing thing that has decided to make her stop breathing from time to time, which she can battle with prescription medicines that work great at making her forget any and all problems due to sleeping through them. It's Jim Bob's House o' Slug, is what I'm saying. We're dealing by couch-forting it in the guest bedroom, lounging on pillows and keeping the Chips Ahoy within arm's reach.

Still, there is much to be happy about:

• I finally submitted a crossword to Will Shortz at the New York Times for the first time in years, and I just heard back: it's been accepted for publication. Cue the confetti and Dixieland jazz! I had walked away from crossword construction because I felt like I couldn't make it work, but this has gifted me with the will to carry on with the hobby a while longer. It's my first ever themeless sale, too, which was my main goal for the longest while. (Themeless puzzles have a lower word count maximum, 72 for a 15x15 grid as opposed to 78 for a themed one, which makes them a throbbing pain in the arse to complete well.) It'll be a Saturday run most likely, with a date to be determined closer to publication.


• Murder Ballads tech rehearsal with cluegirl went swimmingly. We both broke out the effects pedals to go with the amplification we were working with, and it was one of those rare moments when I actually felt like the rock star some people joke about me being. There's a song that's going to be on our next album called "The Call" (we do it in concert these days) that we did up with guitar and bass electric pedals and a rock drum loop that...just...yeah, lemme bottle that, would'ja?


• Speaking of Murder Ballads, we're confirmed for a performance at Arisia this January. Hope to catch you all there!


• Going back a few weeks, I went to karaoke here in Providence with felisdemens, we_happy_few, mianathema, and He Whose LJ Name I Don't Know But Who Requires Mention Because He Did NIN's "Closer" With a Hand Puppet. I did two, "A Girl Like You" by the Smithereens and "Flathead" by the Fratellis, and didn't lose consciousness once. I never expected to hear "Nessun Dorma" in a bar, much less hear it done well. A good night.

Back to work tomorrow, where we're still weathering the aftermath of the new post-merger reorganization charts. I still have a job, so...yay?

A random trip through my synapses as I stretch out sybaritically in bed like Caesar Augustus in a Dresden Dolls T-shirt and gunmetal gray knit boxers:

• This thing where I wake up at 4 a.m. and then don't fall back to sleep has lost its allure. (I'd not be surprised if its allure got wrested from it at gunpoint in a dark alley.)


• I just got a refund check for 2¢. Mailed in an envelope with a 42¢ stamp, natch. Look, I'm not going to cash it, folks, so if you need to balance your books that badly, have your intern Steve chuck a couple of pennies in the little cup by the register at the Stop 'n' Go and we'll call it even.


• Strawberry Darrell Lea Soft Eating Licorice, man. Your life will change.


• Poor rain_herself is currently drowning in her own mucus right now. She is not happy. Earl Gray tea with a shot of Jameson, stat.


• Rehearsal weekend with cluegirl in Troy this weekend: a chance to remind ourselves of some things we may have forgotten. Like, y'know, guitars are the things with the strings and the big hole in the middle, right? (It may have been a while.)


• We caught the Oscars with theloriest, blank ballots and a coffee table full of snacks. I managed to see roughly 6.3 of the Best Picture nominees in advance this year, and although I would have loved to have seen Room walk away with it, I wasn't disappointed with how things turned out, even if I did and still do want to punt Sasha Baron Cohen squarely in his smugness gland.


• The living room contains many boxen. Tonight, the boxen are empty. Soon, they will be full. The circle of life begins anew.

Aaaaand that'll do. The pillow beneath my unkempt head swallows my resolve and my desire to continue looking at stuff. Catch you on the flipside.

The magnificent bluegargantua recently answered a three-question interview, and offered to ask three questions to anyone who so wished. I took the plunge, and great questions they are! In his own words, "It's murder ballads all the way down":

1) What was your first musical instrument?

My first "real" instrument, i.e. one that wasn't handed out in bulk to the entire grade school music class, was the flute, begun in fifth grade. I'd known that flute would be my band instrument for a few years at that point, although i don't recall the exact reasons why, aside from a single jean-Pierre Rampal LP in my parents' collection. I played on a serious band-and-recital level up through my freshman year of college, when thanks to a horrid audition I dropped from my high school first chair position to next-to-last chair in the lowest of four concert bands, which took the wind out of my sails. I still have my Yamaha open-hole, though, and play it occasionally, although playing with a beard is an interesting challenge. Maybe I should break it out for some Murder Ballads stuff.

2) What did you learn from your crowdfunding endeavors?

The thing I keep trying to learn everywhere else: that it's okay to advocate for myself. The hardest part about the Indiegogo thing, the newer Patreon thing, everything about finding listeners and landing gigs, is that I have to stand up and say, "Hey! I'm pretty good! Come check me out!" And not just once, but over and over again. People will help, yes, but not if I don't believe it myself first. Still working on it.

3) What's the funniest line from a murder ballad?

I have to go with "Matty Groves," when Matty is asked by Lord Darnell what he thinks of the Lord's bed, his linens, and oh yeah, his naked wife in Matty's arms. Matty, a cheeky li'l cuss, replies, "Oh, it's well I like your feather bed and well I like your sheets / But better I like your lady gay who lies in my arms asleep." Oh, SNAP.

BONUS: Since most people come on interview shows to pitch their latest project (book, movie, CD, etc.), pitch your latest project (anything fun you want people to know about).

Murder Ballads, natch. We've started talking about our second album, and we've got so much new material from just the last six months that we're going to have to trim somewhere. Part of that is from project #2: S.J. Tucker got me into hier songwriters' group, which means I get a prompt every Monday and have to write and record a new song by Sunday; it's a snootload of work, but I've been doing some of my best writing to date, so bring it on. One last non-musical thing is that I've begun writing cards again for a peculiar movie trivia game I'm developing (hey, theloriest, it's the one you playtested at the party a year and a half ago). It's tedious work but fun. I want to have at least 250 cards before I do anything resembling beta testing, and I've got a little over 100 now. Onward!

If you'd like some questions of your own, just ask in comments!

Since my last attempted bullet list was so rudely interrupted by the travails of white-collar labor, let's take another run at this:

• The nice thing about the Internet is that if one begins obsessing over, say, the current Icelandic music scene (y'know, as one does), one can actually do something about it. Relatedly, my iTunes playlist has grown not only in song count, but also in accent and umlaut ratios.


• Speaking of songs, Sense8 has successfully made me stop hating "What's Up?" by 4 Non-Blondes. This may be proof that the Wachowskis are in fact bona fide geniuses, or at least their team of editors are. (If you haven't been watching, please do. It's slow-going for the first bit, but stick to it.)


• Rosemary chicken with mushrooms and duck fat potatoes, with fresh berries and whipped cream for dessert. It may sound like I'm possibly gloating, but in truth? That's exactly what I'm doing.


• Have I seriously not mentioned the concerts in this journal? cluegirl and I did a pair of Massachusetts Murder Ballads gigs last month: a very well-attended, very well-received house concert at a gorgeous venue in Medford (thanks again, Kate and assorted housemates!), and an open mic at a Mexican joint in Worcester that was attended by about seven people, four of whom actually gave a rat's badonk. Sing ho for the life of a troubadour!


• Apropos of nothing relevant, the side-scrolling cityscape Roku/Netflix screen saver has added at least five minutes to the completion time for this entry. Take that as thou wilt.


• rain_herself insists that if I'm a Battlebots fan, I'm not allowed to keep my Criterion Collection DVDs. The Universe is an unfair place.


• I need to remember that if I'm going to use my crazed chipmunk voice, I need not to lead off with it. In Trader Joe's, a nectarine fell to the floor on its own accord near me and another guy. He chuckled and said, "Must be a ghost!" I, on the other hand, squealed, "I'M FREEEEEEE!" He backed away rather abruptly. Good call.

Speaking of Trader Joe's, I think there's some cookie-butter cookies left in the cupboard. Over and out.

If I had the energy or the inclination to go back through the archives (spoiler: I don't), I'm pretty sure I'd find that the past several years of Arisia summaries consist of me going, "I need to do an Arisia summary. Watch this space." And so, with a flourish, I break my unbroken record of torpor and neglect! List format, natch:

• A boatload of thanks to felisdemens, John and Jenny (forgetting LJ handles on both counts, for we have all been away, haven't we?) for sharing their room and their companionship. Y'all know you rock, but I'll point it out again anyway.


• The main highlight of the weekend was getting to hang with cluegirl and make with the music-making. Murder Ballads didn't have an official gig this year, so we winged it, rehearsing in public spaces, hitting the Saturday open mic, and finally on Sunday afternoon doing a surprise ninja gig/lobby-busking session at the top of the escalators, with marnen on fiddle pushing us firmly into Rawk Star territory. We had a blast, nearly sold out of the CDs we'd brought without half trying, and got to trot out our latest, "White Stag," which...yeah, that one's definitely a keeper. (If you wandered past one of our rehearsals at the right moment, you'd have gotten to hear a bit of the other new one, "Spider and Wasp." Should be street-ready by next time.) We need to do this more often.


• A knot of us spent a good amount of time trying to identify a fantastic group cosplay in the lobby put together by at least a dozen women: crisp uniforms, elegant scarves, Middle Eastern styling. Turned out to be a flight crew on shore leave.


• I didn't costume up at all, aside from the Utilikilt. That was a mistake. I know I was one-bagging it because of having to take the T in, but that is no excuse at all. Next year for sure.


• With lbitw and primal_pastry, our room closed out Friday by doing shots of root beer vodka blended with Emergen-C, a concoction lovingly dubbed "Ipecac Splendor." It tasted like a Valentine's conversation heart, if candy were both liquid and capable of dry-cleaning your sinus cavities. On the other hand, I shared sleeping accommodations with someone with early-onset con crud and left with my breathing apparatus intact, so I'll take it.


• On Saturday, I danced. I DANCED. As in got on the dance floor at the dance party with all the dancers dancing and danced. That never happens. ("Military Fashion Show" came on. I had no choice.) I managed a whole song and a half before my ankles reminded me I was wearing stompy boots and suggested I sit the fuck down, but man, it was a Good Thing. I am calling that my personal growth moment of the weekend.


• I was in bed by 1:30 a.m. Saturday night/Sunday morning, but got up again at 2 with the sense that there was something going on. What was going on was an impromptu jam session in the lobby: cello, melodica, guitar, bongos and doubek, transitioning from a sprawling Middle Eastern groove to a jazzy breakdown of "Scarborough Fair." Sleep be damned.


• Upped my game playing ratio this year by playing two whole games instead of one. That meant I was in the game room when the Patriots won, signaled the room monitor bellowing, "For those who want to know about the game, WE'REGOINGTOTHESUPERBOWL!!" followed by a three-second silence, followed by two whole people going, "Woo!" (I tried for a rousing, "Go, sports team!" but I don't think my efforts were appreciated.)


• I got hijacked to the midnight shadowcast showing of Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog Sunday night. I still think shadowcasting is kind of pointless a lot of the time, but hey, it's fun shouting at the screen, so it was a net positive experience.

All in all, I'm pleased with how the weekend unfolded. Arisia was something of a difficult proposition, coming off of a long stretch of social avoidance and not having a lot of emotional energy to bring to bear, but I adjusted my expectations and sat when I needed to sit and set limits with the people I needed to set limits with, and ended up returning to work on Tuesday with actual unfeigned pep, rather than the con-crash Eeyore-trudge I've sometimes faced in years past, so I'll take it. To everyone I ran into (I know better than to try and list everyone), it was great to see you, and hopefully I'll be keeping the blinds open a little more.

I can't believe I haven't mentioned this here yet: Pretty in Scarlet, the debut album by Murder Ballads (that's me and cluegirl is finally available for download!

Go give it a listen. It's free to preview at our Bandcamp site, and if you like it, please consider buying it and/or (preferably and) sharing it with friends and loved ones. (The track the player is cued up to is "Strowler's Song," which a lot of you have heard, except that you haven't heard it as a duet with Catt, plus S.J. Tucker on percussion, Heather Dale on backing vocals, and Ben Deschamps on electric guitar.)

Ye gods, this is real, isn't it? When did we end up here?

All right, enough of this radio silence. Here's what's been going on in the last month or so, plus or minus the next week:

* cluegirl and I have our (please, gods) last recording session for Pretty in Scarlet this weekend, along with some Murder Ballads band photos for the back cover and a trip to the bank to start up our official band checking account because the shit, as the young'uns say, is about to get real. After that we have mixdown to do, and then mastering, and then off into the world it goes! Catt and Joel did up a few preliminary mixes of "Strowler's Song" and Five," and having heard them I find myself on rooftops in the rain screaming, "Why is this album not in my sweaty little hands yet?!" (It's been a long year.) I say this every time, but now I have empirical evidence that Pretty in Scarlet will knock your ever-lovin' socks off. Further updates to come.

* We visited the kids and grandkid weekend before last. rain_herself finally got to meet Duncan, who succeeded in charming her into warm putty, like he does. Abbey's discovered LARPing, which gives me the jibblies a bit; Nik celebrated his 14th birthday with a mess o'cup stacking gear and (our gift to him) a set of glow-poi.

* I'm really liking Worcester. I wasn't expecting that.

* ( Cut for gross stuff. Gums are involved. )

* The most wonderful feeling: after you've gone all Godzilla on a double-batch of Thai green chicken curry, being reminded that you can make more.

* I've finally reinstated my paid LJ account. I'd had a paid account since day 1 back in 2003, when you had to bankroll your way in unless you knew someone, which I didn't. I mainly exploit the polls feature, but it's nice to have the icons back.

* Hung out with the kidlings and the grandkidling for the second weekend in a row. Had a good time. Almost caught up on sleep by now. And the body the cops fished out of the pond three blocks from the kids' house was completely unrelated, as far as I know.

* Finally have Massachusetts plates! One more yoga-proof stress-wad released from my upper spine.

* I shill because I love: Murder Ballads concert this Saturday at Professor Java's at 217 Wolf Road in Albany, starting at 7 p.m.! Music! Coffee! cluegirl dressed in something smashing! Me dressed in something else! All the details here!

Seriously, do come if you can. Even if you've caught one of our previous shows, we have a snotload of new material in the wings that we're dying to lay on y'all. After this gig, we're going to be pouring our focus into frickin' finishing the frickin' album frickin' already, so by the time we make it onto a stage again it'll be with merch in hand. Stay tuned.

* Right, time to clock out. Be well, all.

As I am at work and brevity is a must, I shall summarize the latest goings-on of cluegirl and me and our band Murder Ballads thusly:
1) Asses kicked.
2) Names taken.
3) That's all you needs know, pun'kin.

Seriously, I couldn't be happier with how well this thing has been going so far. We've put in a pair of recording sessions on our debut CD Pretty in Scarlet with Joel, our producer and resident awesomeness-generator, and have major plans for the parts we have yet to record, including a couple of suprises we've just confirmed via email that I can't tell you about yet even though we're so stoked it hurts my spleen not typing the words here. The part that's eating our brains at the moment, however, is the Offical Murder Ballads Debut Concert (cue fanfare and dancing girls) taking place at Arisia on Sunday evening, January 19, 2014 at 10 p.m. in Burroughs Hall (that's at the Boston Westin Waterfront, like the rest of the con). Our excitement and anticipation surrounding this show is likely to escalate from "triple-espresso hyper" to "GET THESE SPIDERS OFF OF ME" levels in the week and a half until then, so if you notice me twitching and hyperventilating it's probably that. Those of you who've seen us guest-appear in each other's solo gigs know something of what we sound like, but you have no idea where we've come to as a musical unit, and we hope you'll be there to welcome us into the breathing world of something-or-other.

Very relatedly, does anyone by chance have an amp I can make use of at Arisia, or know someone who does? Preferably one that can accommodate both a guitar and a vocal mic?