Spent a relaxing and refreshing weekend at Confluence, Pittsburgh's annual science-fiction convention. Confluence is such a filk-friendly con with a nigh-constant filk track that it's, for me at least, a filk con with other stuff happening. As Pete Grubbs noted during his concert, that's at least 99 and 44/100 due to the efforts of mrgoodwraith, who in 10 years has built the filk track from its original state (when it consisted of, well, Pete) to its current state.

The recounting of said weekend's events starts

(As per my usual conrep practice, I'll look up and use LJ tags when I find 'em.)

* It was my stated intent to get on the road Thursday by noon -- but, as I know from pretty much all previous road trips, I pretty much always run two hours behind. So, having actually gotten on the road by around 1:30, only one and a half hours late, I can by one series of calculations consider myself a half-hour ahead. See, this is why I tailspinned out of calculus back in the day.

* While the con started Friday, there was a Thursday night housefilk at the home of Robert Stockton and Martha Underwood. I hadn't asked Randy, but I was for some reason under the impression that he had booked the hotel room for Thursday night as he did last year (when Thursday before the con was a filk night at the Starlite) -- though, due to his precarious work situation, I should've known otherwise. Among his first words to me other than "hello" was "where were you planning to sleep?" Heh. Some things I don't think out. I rely on the kindness of strangers, and ended up staying at the home of Laurie and Jim Mann -- which was a good thing, as I was able to take Kristoph and Margaret to the hotel Friday morning to spare Randy one of the 3.14 dozen things he had to do Friday.

* The housefilk was excellent, with a small enough gathering to be intimate and comfortable: Martha and Robert, Kristoph and Margaret, mrgoodwraith, orawnzva and me, along with two friends of Martha's there to listen. Ben did his delightful parody of Loreena McKennitt arrangement of "The Highwayman" along with many other characteristically excellent songs. (For the full weekend, my favorite [Bad username: orawnzva"] song had to be "Blue Butterfly," which tells a Fascinating, Somewhat Disgusting, Unsettling and Completely True Tale From Nature and does so in such a ... pretty way.) Martha did lots of fun house-elfy shtick during Robert's song about mishievous suburban house elves. Randy did "Space Tourist" just 'cause I was there. (I'm really, really trying not to request it at every con lest he grow tired of it, but it's such a great song.) Kristoph and Margaret just plain blew me away, but that was to be expected. And I even managed to commit filk thrice, including a so-so rendition of Dave Luckitt's "Dice Lice Blues" about a hapless gamer (which I decided to teach myself recently after my friend Andy Brimer reminded me of an endless Talisman game last year, some 78 percent of the duration of which I spent as a frog). Heh. When I did my Fables-themed "Let Me In," at least two people thought it was about an evil Santa Claus, based on the lines about "I know when you're truthful, I know why you lie" and "the son of the wind that blows down from the North." Wasn't even thinking of that possible rendition, but it's a logical assumption for someone who hasn't read the source material in which the Big Bad Wolf is the estranged son of the North Wind ...

* Laurie and Jim put me up in one of their book rooms upstairs -- and my mouth hung open when I realized my cot was surrounded by eight floor-to-ceiling, completely stocked bookshelves devoted to SF and fantasy ... and hung further open when I realized this was the auxiliary book room, devoted to anthologies, magazines and graphic novels. The actual bulk of the books were in the room across the hall. Much mental drooling ensued.

So much for Thursday. And it's late, so I'll close Conrep Post One before getting to the actual con. More to come, etc. etc.

* Subject-line, by the by, is taken from a line in one of Keith Kelly's songs, about a surrealistic carpet with many a famous face. He seemed to enjoy himself this weekend; hope we hear from him again. That's him in the adjoining photo, with his crowd-pleasing finale.

Words: "The Forest on the Asteroid" (Robert Sheckley)
Sounds & Images: "Doctrine of Ethos" (Dr. Mary Crowell)
State O'Mind: Content