Home from Confluence

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Hi, it's me again, and I don't have a photograph for you because I lost my camera at Readercon.  (If you found a cheap silver camera that operates off of AA batteries, get in touch with me and we'll see if I can trade you enough books for it to make you happy.)

Nevertheless, I had a long and productive weekend and enjoyued it immensely.  Rob Sawyer was there and it was good to see him.  At one point, I sang the opening to "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" in 1930s crooner style and somebody said, "You have a beautiful voice."  Rob involuntarily shook his head.

That's because a few years back when he and I (and Nancy Kress and Neil Gaiman and several others) were in Chengdu, China, Nancy and I were called up on stage to sing.  (Long story.  Let's skip it.)  Seeing a disaster in the making, Rob gamely leaped into the fray and he and his wife Caroline Clink joined us in what was possibly the worst rendition of "O Susanna" ever performed in public.  And I do not except the Tiny Tim version, if he ever recorded it.

I will be forever grateful to Rob and Caroline for voluntarily diluting the embarrassment, when they could have so easily ducked it.  And for understanding, as Nancy and I did, that if you can't be good, you must be enthusiastic.

Which is a roundabout way of saying that when Rob shook his head, he was right.  As a singer, I suck.

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