A one-shot from Corflu Wave
Here we are at Corflu, surrounded by ghosts from a long time ago and a galaxy I don't even remember. Of course I was there, and my memories are as clear as... Well, I know I was there, but I remember that on the second night of the con, I swallowed a little green thing that made me happy but somewhat forgetful. You understand, of course.
People seem annoyed by the cameras -- the two digital cameras which created the photos posted on the Corflu Web page, and my video camera. Jane Hawkins even ducks to get out of the way everytime I pan over to get a shot of her. Yet the items that seem to attract the most attention (besides Charles Burbee's mimeograph), are the photo albums from earlier Corflus and other conventions from days long past. We sure seem grateful that some folks like Ted White and Ron Solomon went to the trouble to take photos at Disclaves in the sixties and Corflu in the eighties. Yeah, the eighties are now the Good Old Days.
d. potter speaking at corflu in walnut creek, a few bartstops from oakland, where i live these days: it is absolutely amazing that most of us are here at all. we have lives we have families we have serious philosophical differences with the universe. t-shirts from each corflu are worn (passive voice is used) and ancient fannish tales are told. quick glances at the photo albums and displays show faces and bodies that have, and have not, changed.
not that it matters.
talk of web pages swirls through the room. there is a fireplace in the smoking consuite and in it burns a duralog /or as the ad has it, 'a hunka hunka burnin'love'/ and the woodsmoke does not quite dissipate the reek of tobacco.
i have a poker game to get to. jose canseco got traded back to the a's, the bay area apparently now has only one athlete named elvis, hale-bopp the comet is veesible if you know where to look, and celery won't really floss your teeth. cheryl cline and lynn kuehl were here /they've been gafia/ and got a warm welcome /hell, we were happy to see them/. it's not really the cheese. you should have been here.
the level of talk is amazing; not merely the web pages portion, but the travels, literary endeavors, ailments, and gossip. the gossip portions would not interest, say, fr. guido sarducci or liz smith, but community news is community news, and we do talk about our friends, yes. and in the middle of the juiciest scandal, someone will bring up sturgeon.
and that is why i'm here.
that and the fact that the next big giveaway on one of the local radio stations is a trip to the cockroach races in brisbane, australia, probably not in time for the next oz worldcon.
that and the fact that bart /translation--the subway/ runs between oakland and walnut creek, and in fact several other destinations. i got to like the system a long time ago, and my only regret is that now that the system is twenty years old, it has taken on some of the attributes of the new york city subway system. namely, things break down. /meanwhile the new york city subway system is a bit over ninety years old and needs new everything./
that and the fact that i'm a faaaaan. /i don't have anywhere to put that mimeo, though.../
i'm fine, thanks, and the baseball season will start next month.
And not a day too soon. I haven't been to an A's game since Al Davis and his vucking Raiders vucked over the Oakland Coliseum (and every vucking taxpayer in Alameda county). Perhaps it's time to forgive and forget last season, when the team couldn't seem to find the outfield fence for all the vucking construction going on to make the place football-friendly once again. So the vucking Raiders move back in and forget how to play football, can't even sell out a single home game and then tell the county supervisors that the taxpayers owe them fifteen million vucking dollars because they didn't sell enough tickets to cover their portion of the construction costs. Let the A's come back in, let Canseco return to Oakland, perhaps we can have a .500 season and the American League will save our asses from financial ruin. We miss you, Tony LaRussa! Play Ball!
The poker game in the smoking consuite continues. The stakes are not particularly high, but the tension around the room is palpable. Linda Bushyager is one tough lady to bluff. Debbie Notkin keeps raising the pot in a high-lo split because she knows she is the only low hand, and cannot lose, no matter what the other two players bet. We're only talking pocketfuls of change here, but poker is poker, and you play with passion, no matter what the stakes. A tired, defeated player cashes out when it is clear he cannot afford another hand, and Art Widner pulls out a wad of bills to take his place. This can only get more interesting.
Hi, this is Rich Coad. Terry says I must contribute to this before I leave the con suite. I am very tired, Goodnight,
Terry has gone off to try to buy into the poker game. And Rich Coad has given up so I guess it's up to me. I don't do too well sitting on a chair at a table or desk so this unit is on my lap while I'm slouched down on a nearby overstuffed easy chair. [So far I'm getting along ok with this NEC notebook. I wonder what the word processing software is ... WordPerfect?] Bill Donaho has come in the room to inquire, "Anybody for poker?" I guess folks are beginning to drop out and go to bed even tho it's only 2 am. Now, back in the late 50s when it was party time around the East Bay we'd make a punch out of dollar-a-gallon wine, a bunch of Tang, and other stuff, spiking it with a cotton from a nasal inhaler (Valo or Wyamine were the favored brands after Benzedrine was made perscription only) which had been soaked in some gin or vodka for a week to getting the goodies out. In the proper dilution this, taken in moderate quantities, kept the crowd alive and active most of the night, talking and moving about without any ill effects. At least no one got knifed or shot. I wonder what's in current inhalers? I've read where people now running "meth labs," cooking up batches of speed, are using some form or another of ephedrine which I recall from my tender youth as being a powder that you dissolved in water to make nose drops. I wonder if that is a controlled substance now? The stuff was too bitter for me to attempt to use it in a recreational rather than a medical fashion. In 67 I was able to stay up all night at a "teach-in" at UC Berkeley with a dish of frozen espresso, listening to Isaac Deutscher and a bunch of others. The coffee machine is off. The moshes were tasty as long as they lasted. I wonder if I can find some soda loaded with caffeine and sugar.
Fans are all bidding each other good night and going off to bed tho I think the poker game is still going on.
It is now Sunday morning. Well, it was Sunday morning in the previous paragraph, but now the sun is up, people are awake and partying. The poker game finally broke up around 4:30 a.m. Three Texans and Art Widner cashed in their chips and called it a night. I came out somewhat better than I began, thanks to two hands in which I was blessed with back-to-back full houses. A few others came along on which I folded early and thus maintained my fortune until Lady Luck once again smiled in my direction. I had inherited Linda Bushyager's lucky chair, and while she retired two dollars ahead of where she came in, I left for bed with $11.75 in my pocket (while I'd joined the game with only $3 in my wallet).
It is now 10:30AM and the con suite is quite active, with fans engaged in conversation whilst awaiting the start of the Brunch. After which some of us, I suppose, will be leaving. I (Harry Andruschak) will be one of those leaving as I head back to smoggy Los Angeles and the joys of being a disgruntled Postal Worker. I have enjoyed myself at this convention, and do wish I could attend more Corflus and Dittos.
Of course, there have been a few times when I've felt out of it, mostly when the talk got around to internet access, web sites, rec.arts.sf.fandom, mailing lists, e-mail zines, and all that. Yes, that is the future of fandom and I'll probably be getting on the internet myself in 1998 or later. Have to keep up with the times, after all. Right now I use only DOS 6.22, and there isn't much in the way of internet software for such an obsolete OS. Not to worry, as soon as they get all the bugs out of Windows 95, I'll make another stab at the internet. Honest.
This is Elinor Busby. We have been having a fine time this weekend. It is now 10:55. The banquet is at 11.00, but rumor has it that the hotel people are not quite through setting up. This is a very attractive little computer, called NEC, and it also says it's a ultraLite VERSA, intel inside. At one time Buz was thinking of getting something on this order, but he seems to have cooled lately. It's really a fun thing--must get him to sit down and try it.
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