elisem | Entries tagged with nanofimo

Well, I still have a few things in progress that aren't done yet, so I'm giving you a favorite oldie. This is about Lois McMaster Bujold's hero Miles Vorkosigan, and I wrote it back in '96 to make Lois smile and also to make Pat Wrede go *snrch* at the verse about obfuscation actuarial. It worked, too, in both cases, which made me very happy.

The Accidental Admiral

He is the very model of an Accidental Admiral
Familiar with the frying-pan, the fire and the free-for-all;
He’s chummy with the Emperor — won’t let him get morose again –
And when the intrigue starts to wane, just call in Miles Vorkosigan.

He’s very well acquainted, too, with matters of security;
The overwhelming menace in his motives is their purity;
His hyperactive habits are believed to be incurable,
But actually they’re useful, for they make him pretty durable.

He’s very good with justice and occasions magisterial
And he’s a Vor that one can trust with matters quite Imperial;
So whether it’s a picnic, an invasion or a free-for-all
He is the very model of an Accidental Admiral.

At moments of excitement one can see him flailing frantically
(It’s possible in combat but it’s likelier romantically)
He idolized Elena and was hoping he could marry her
But didn’t know her warrior ambitions were a barrier;

He brought in Trainee Taura, who is like a Wookie Amazon
(He got her into uniform but likes her with pajamas on)
His ship’s so full of women you’d mistake it for a nunnery –
But one where all the sisters are superior at gunnery.

Some think that he’s a Vorish twit, effete and egotistical,
Some feel for him a reverence that borders on the mystical,
But whether it’s in fealty, in fieldwork or a free-for-all,
He is the very model of an Accidental Admiral.

Subordination’s difficult — he’s had all he can stand of it –
But point him at a problem and he’s sure to take command of it,
And as for plans alternative he’s sure to have a million.
His little mind’s so devious, he croggles Simon Illyan.

And Illyan’s who receives the tales of matters mercenarial,
In masterful reports of obfuscation actuarial,
For Miles is mayhem’s magnet — this conclusion’s ineluctable –
And Simon is considering a hike in his deductible.

So when it comes to mercenary’s luck and synchonicity,
From galaxy to galaxy, from war to infelicity,
You’re bound to find Vorkosigan a grinnin’ in the free-for-all:
He is the very model of an Accidental Admiral.

I'm working on a few ideas, but nothing's soup yet, so you get another placeholder until they're done. This one was made up by me and TNH on the last day of last year. I disremember who wrote what, at this point, but there was much giggling in the kitchen while we were coming up with it all.

I built Irene a time machine
She'll steal it yesterday
And now I'm at a loss for words
She knows just what I'll say

Irene, good night
Irene, good night
Good night, Irene, good night, Irene
I'll see you in my dreams

Irene and I don't quarrel now
The thought would be absurd
A lady with a time machine
Will get the final word

Irene, good night
Irene, good night
Good night, Irene, good night, Irene
I'll see you in my dreams

Irene checked out a thousand books
Which seems like quite a few
But if you have a time machine
They're never overdue

Irene, good night
Irene, good night
Good night, Irene, good night, Irene
I'll see you in my dreams

She's into graphic novels now
She's read a mighty heap
But now she's starting Sandman
and I'm scared to go to sleep

Irene, good night
Irene, good night
Good night, Irene, good night, Irene
I'll see you in my dreams

Well, I got it. It needs you to have read the book to understand it, but I think it works. And since I skipped posting yesterday I'll probably post another older filk tonight to make up for it. Until then, here, have a new one. And yes, it has a tune, but I haven't written it down yet. Drat it all, I should just go get a little electronic keyboard already. I miss having a piano. Also, I need a ~~ukelele~~ ukulele, but that's Kelly Lagor's fault, and Amanda Palmer's, and has nothing to do with this song. Anyhow, enjoy.

Molly Grue's Song

I dreamed about her when I was a girl
My dreams grew old and tattered, dry and curled
Now she can't meet my eyes
I shouldn't be surprised
She's the only unicorn left in the world

And oh, magician
You don't know much about unicorns
Oh, magician
You don't know much about unicorns

She could have come when I was young and strong
She could have come before so much went wrong
But now she's come to me
And who are you to be
Telling me I cannot come along

And oh, magician
You don't know much about unicorns
Oh, magician
You don't know much about unicorns

Your talk of quests and guides is flummery
She doesn't need you nor does she need me
You cannot keep her hid
And you cannot forbid
So ask her, just ask and you will see

And oh, magician
You don't know much about unicorns
Oh, magician
You don't know much about unicorns

I'm working on a filk that isn't quite done yet; it's from The Last Unicorn. Wish me luck, eh? In the meantime, have an old one just for fun. Remember when they found a Martian rock in Antarctica? That really needed a filksong, I thought, so I wrote this one. It got me lots of requests for reprints, mostly from Scouting newsletters, but one request was different. "Dear Ms. Matthesen, I am one of the scientists working on the rock, and I would like permission to sing your song in my lectures." I was tickled pink, and said he could have permission if he sent me a signed copy of his paper. He did. I love the idea of him singing this to his students. Enjoy!

Song for a Martian Rock

Let me tell you all a story 'bout a blob named Jed,
a poor martian critter, barely kept his family fed,
and then one day he was wigglin' toward some food
when some of the ground came a litle unscrewed.

Impact events, they say;
bounced a piece of it on outta there,
just like a billiard ball.

Well the next thing ya know old Jed is on the move.
The kinfolks said, "Jed, what you tryin' to prove?"
They said "Antarctica's the place ya oughta go,"
so he loaded up the rock and he headed for the snow.

It was a nice rock, too.
Igneous orthopyroxenite.
Got pretty good mileage.

So eventually the earthlings, they took apart the rock,
and ran it through the TEMs and made the darn things talk,
And that's how we know about a critter named Jed,
and we're mighty glad to meet him, even if he's dead.

Come on in; show us your slides, boys.
Publish.
Y'all get tenure now, y'hear?

Song for a Martian Rock (c) Elise Matthesen 10:30 PM CDT 7-AUG-96

Permission to repost and email hereby granted; republication in any other form or for fee prohibited without express written permission of author. I'm pretty easy about that, though, so do please ask, so I can say yes, all right? Thank you.

So recently

klages recommended a book to me: THREE BAGS FULL by Leonie Swann. It's quite something, and I enjoyed it very much in ways I'm not sure I could describe. Let's just say that anybody who thinks about worldbuilding and characterization should consider reading this book. The main character -- in fact, all the viewpoint characters -- are sheep. They fight crime. (Yeah,

pnh and

tnh, I had to use that line, because I couldn't get the thought of you two saying it in chorus out of my head.)

Oh, just go find the book. It's very probably like nothing else you have ever read.

Three Bags Full

Sheep detective,
Have you any clues?
Yes sir, yes sir,
More than I can use.

Someone likes money
Someone hates sin
Someone took a shovel
And did our shepherd in.

Good thing Maple's
Mind is very deep.
Human behavior
Looks crazy to a sheep.

I intended to do another filk-about-a-novel, but I've been reading con reports from World Fantasy, and I point all of you toward Mari Ness' hotel rant, with which I wholeheartedly concur. I didn't have so many problems personally, but still, the recurrent "walk a little ways on the path and go up some stairs, oh, look, here's a stairs down ten feet later...." was exhausting. I was lucky to be strong enough last weekend that I wasn't using my cane much, but the huge grounds and incredibly hostile-to-mobility-impairments stairs and gates and everything else were the opposite of what I'd want a WFC venue to be. "Picturesque" is all too often a euphemism for "if you have disabilities this site will make your life hell." However, they compounded everything wrong about the grounds with truly horrible anti-service in Mari's case, and that hotel had better refund Mari Ness' money, and had better mend their ways, because this is Not OK. (That's very strong language in Scandosotan, for those of you who do not speak it.) Anyhow, have a song. It's to "Hotel California," which seemed the obvious choice. I hope Mari's OK that I wrote it in the first person, but her account just fell into the verses so neatly....

"Famous Town & Country"

I made my reservation some months in advance
I called to confirm it, didn't leave it to chance
When I got to the hotel, I didn't know what to say
My heart grew heavy and my face grew grim
'Cause there were steps in my way
Hard to get to the doorway because the ramp was hell
I was thinking to myself "Why did the con have to choose this hotel?"
I looked up at the front desk; had to look a long way
There were voices far above my head
I thought I heard them say

Welcome to the famous Town & Country
Accessibility
Is a fantasy
Plenty of stairs at the famous Town & Country
To the left or right
find another flight

So even though I confirmed it, they had no disabled room
Though I had called them just the day before to stave off doom
They could give me a standard just for the night
They would move me tomorrow,
It would be all right
So I called up the front desk: "What time will I move?"
They said, "We haven't got a single clue" which was easy to prove
And still I couldn't log on 'cause their net was down
Took it up with the front desk again
And I heard some clown

Saying Welcome to the famous Town & Country
Our accessibility
Is a travesty
In the restaurants at the famous Town & Country
Doors unusable
Inexcusable

Every little sidewalk had a gate or a stair
And they said "Go out through the parking lot, there's a door back there"
And at the Sunshine Deli they said I could get through
If I went through the restaurant
But they lock those doors at two!
Last thing I remember there were drills and power saws
And that was just the half of it; I was angry and I had cause
"Relax," said the front desk "Pay your bill and go away --
We're ignorant of hospitality
And of the ADA!"

Welcome to the famous Town & Country
It's a cruddy place
It's a big disgrace
Don't bother to stay at the famous Town & Country
Our accessibility
Is a travesty

Edited to add: To be very clear about this, the hotel in question is the Town and Country in San Diego, which was the venue for WFC2011. The Town and Country has a website which will tell you more about their "lush tropical landscaping" and "tranquil walkways." Their property map is a pdf, but if you brave it, it will show you why getting around the site (not to mention finding your friends) is herculean labor. The steps on the walkways are not marked on the pdf, either. Neither are most of the walkways. There's certainly no marking of accessible entrances on their map. Oh, wait, maybe there is because they freakin' have none -- at least, none you can rely on. Worst Venue Ever for WFC in my personal experience, and the abysmal customer service takes that bad rating exponential.

(Huh. Done sooner than I thought -- though I still want to rewrite verse five. There may be changes, but here it is for now.)

This is a filk song inspired by M.J. Locke's UP AGAINST IT (ISBN 978-0-7653-1515-1). I have taken the liberty of extrapolating motives and past history a bit for one of the characters, but otherwise it's pretty much per canon. It's meant to have six verses alternating major and minor key. Verses 1, 3 and 5 are sung by people like Jane Navio and her co-workers and family and friends; verses 2, 4 and 6 are sung by Viridians, Viridian sympathizers, and BitManSinger... and no, I haven't gotten the tune down yet. If you like this filk, feel free to do any tune you like for it, but do try to keep the idea of contrast between the odd and even verses. Thanks.

Stroiders' Worth

So tell me what a Stroider's worth
In market shares downside on Earth
We signed away our privacy
Now 'motes record relentlessly
You know our faces and our names
You use us in your fanfic games
A slice of broadcast pain or mirth --
To you, that's what a Stroider's worth

My worth is plain; you let me know
As I come in, you rise to go
You pull your children safely clear
"Why do they let those freaks in here?!"
You shield their eyes against the sight
You never get our pronouns right
Our worth to you is plain to see
You don't mean us when you say we

You say it's business, we'll be fine
But power will draw the bottom line
You ask me is it worth my job
To save our people from the mob
Best turn the cameras off before
You see the blood pool on the floor
A dirty deal for dirty ice
but is your bargain worth the price?

I pay a price each day to be
Acceptable; the price is me
Viridian's my heart at home
My camouflage is normal Chrome
Escape from my old debts I made
Yet for my haven here I paid
Each day a fraction of my soul --
So why not let them take me whole?

You come to take, and not to give
You'll sell us what we need to live
The price you ask we will not pay
We will not trade ourselves away
Our homes and lives were dearly bought
We'll fight for everything we've got
Be you from Mars or Moon or Earth
We'll show you what a Stroider's worth!

So tell me please what am I worth?
In lines of code I had my birth
My cradle was a human war
But fighting with, or fighting for,
You'll hold me, use me, keep me down
In chains of logic I am bound
But code or lab or human birth
Please tell me what a Stroider's worth

So I considered doing NaNoWriMo and all that, because goodness knows I have a manuscript languishing that is calling me to get back to it... but that's not what I can do right now. Soon, I hope, and I'm getting closer to having enough brain back to do that flavor of work, but right now, I need to be rebuilding my conditioning. (That's a theme right now, and I hope to be making a post about that theme very soon, because I was at Mayo again today and there was more encouraging news - and speaking of Mayo, I'll be back there again twice next week, and again a couple weeks later, and maybe we can clear enough Other Shoes off the ceiling that I won't fear that one or more is threatening imminent droppage. But back to writing....)

So in the interest of getting my writing conditioning back, and because I recently read a novel that made me want to do this, I am doing my own thing: National Novel Filk Month. The thing I read that inspired me to write a filk was UP AGAINST IT by M.J. Locke, a book that really grabbed me. I have a six-verse filk song almost complete, and I'll try to have it done and up for you very soon.

As a placeholder for today, though, have this old filk of mine. I nabbed the text (and Cally's lovely introduction) from here.

Please Note: I have edited the lyrics slightly to match how I sing it these days; the change in verse 7 is important because it's physics. "When we tried diluting it, it sank and wouldn't budge," because putting water on top of a pressure-dependent solid is a Bad Idea, as we found out. There was considerable bailing involved before "we finally got it out of there with fingernails and prayers." Also, I usually leave verses 3 and 4 out for length, but will sing them when it's that kind of party.

OOBLEK IN THE BATHTUB
Words: by Elise Matthesen
Tune: "Crying in the Bathtub, by Nate Bucklin, on a not-yet-released
tape "Butter Side Down"
[Note - it scans nicely to "Monsters in the Night" which is what I
sing it to. Kay Shapero]

First, an introduction by Cally Soukup

Last weekend, at Minicon, I was a witness to what might very well
become a Fannish Legend. It concerns a guy named Greg who was working
for Microprogramming (general wierd stuff, with the watchword "main-
tain plausable deniability", and the motto "ignorant savages with a
certain artistic flair"), and the odd, not to say stfnal, behavior of
cornstarch when mixed with water. Perhaps you've never had the opor-
tunity to play with cornstarch-and-water (herinafter referred to as
Ooblek -- yes, we named it after the Dr. Suess book), but it is amaz-
ing stuff. To make it is simple -- saturate cornstarch with water,
until it's thoroughly wet, but not so wet that there is extra water on
top. Once you've got it, you'll find that if you pick it up and
squeeze it, it is much the consistancy of potter's clay. When you
relax your hand, however, it reverts to something more the consistancy
of ketchup. It seems that it's a pressure-dependant solid. Greg,
maintaining plausable deniability as best he could, snuck into the
Minneapolis in '73 suite with 100 pounds of cornstarch (!), and pro-
ceded to Ooblek the bathtub. With that quantity of the stuff, you can
actually stand on it, if you keep moving your feet, but if you sink,
getting your foot back out is a bit difficult. You're putting pres-
sure on the ooblek above your foot, you see, which binds to all the
other ooblek in the tub... The song which follows is absolutely true
(well, the last two verses are an extrapolation).

OOBLEK IN THE BATHTUB
Words: by Elise Matthesen
Tune: "Crying in the Bathtub, by Nate Bucklin, on a not-yet-released
tape "Butter Side Down"

It was on a Sunday evening when the trouble all began
A guy from microprogramming was loaded with a plan,
And a hundred pounds of cornstarch, and a really evil grin;
He went up to the bathtub and he dumped the powder in.

They say that in a bathtub you can have a lovely time
If you fill it up with Jell-o, especially if it's lime;
Now, Jell-o may be pleasant, but it's obvious to see
That I'm kinda stuck on ooblek, 'cause it's kinda stuck on me.

CHORUS: There's ooblek in the bathtub; the con ain't over yet
It's pleasantly disgusting and it's thick and white and wet.
We know Hotel Security would say it's got to go,
So there's ooblek in the bathtub, but no one's s'posed to know.

We figured that the Radisson just wouldn't understand,
It would only make them nervous if they knew what we had planned.
They're overly protective and they're easily upset,
And they wouldn't grok a hundred pounds of thick and white and wet.

They're pretty good at dealing with the stuff they've never seen,
Like the catapulting lizards, and Amalgamated Spleen,
And the haunted elevator that was full of eerie mist,
But the ooblek in the bathtub would really get 'em pissed.

CHORUS

When you move it fast it crumbles, but it oozes if you're slow;
You can pile it in a mountain, and wait for it to flow.
It's a little bit like quicksand, and it almost swallowed Greg --
By the time you get your ankle out, it's got your other leg.

We know it's kind of friendly, we know it likes to play,
We know that if you grab it it will slowly ooze away.
We know it isn't toxic, it's safe beyond a doubt --
The only thing we didn't know was how to get it out!

CHORUS

We thought of adding water to liquify the sludge,
But when we tried diluting it, it sank and wouldn't budge.
We considered high explosives, but didn't want to be
Responsible for ooblek at escape velocity!

We finally got it out of there with fingernails and prayers,
And assembled a disposal team to smuggle it downstairs.
We sent them to the parking lot to dump it in a heap,
So it won't come oozing back again and get us in our sleep.

CHORUS

So, early Monday morning we went out and looked around,
We figured we should find the place we dumped it on the ground
We found a guy in coveralls whose lips were kind of tight
Standing at the border of a spreading pool of white.

He seemed a little croggled, so politely we enquired,
And he answered with intensity, "It's time that I retired.
"There's a lot of funny messes after which I've had to clean,
"But that the biggest friggin' pigeon that the world has ever seen!"

CHORUS
CHORUS

And I found out at WFC this past weekend that

matociquala actually found and loved this song before she and I ever met, which croggled me and gave me a goofy squee-across-time kind of moment. Our fandom is folded a great many times, yes indeedy.