gurdymonkey | Estrella brain dump (Reply)

Made decent time on the drive down, arriving in Palm Springs at about 11PM. The Motel 6 had a new night clerk who let me have my pick of several non-smoking rooms. I selected one at the back, away from the freeway and relatively quiet. And didn't sleep because my stupid brain would not shut up. Got to site in the early afternoon, just in time for them to reopen the roads into camp. Poor

purplepenguin had gotten in earlier, had to park on the road and carry everything down to the campsite, because of rain and mud from earlier in the week. And when I say everything, that includes most of our camp infrastructure. Thanks to our "bushi with a hammer" we not only had our lovely garden gate, but all sorts of non-medieval but nice-to- have mod cons: propane stove, camp sink, and even a propane "firepit" which did not require sitting up all night to fire-watch because it could be turned off when one wanted to go to bed.

The beginner taiko lessons in camp went well enough I will probably offer it again next year, assuming I attend the war. At least three students took two or more sessions, two of them new campmates down from Al-Barran (Albuquerque, NM area) in the Outlands. I had a couple of others, so I had at least three people every day. I ceded the big drums to my students and taught Renshu and Three Line Drill on a six gallon plastic bucket tied to an upended IKEA plant stand. Said bucket split during the final lesson on Saturday afternoon, having served most nobly for three days. It will be recycled into something better in its next karmic incarnation. Hashemitsu-hime's 19 month old son loved the drums and as long as he didn't throw a stick or try it out on one of my paper lanterns, he was not only allowed but encouraged to play either an okedodaiko almost as tall as he was, or one of the baby shimedaiko set on a plant stand.

I hadn't met Ryoshi-dono or Hashemitsu-hime before and I didn't know we were going to have a toddler in camp. Mikhail was very well behaved most of the time. He'd cry if thwarted (e.g., you took something away from him he shouldn't have) or if he woke up cold or hungry, but he wasn't a screamer and such dramas were very brief. He walked like Jackie Chan's Drunken Master, particularly when his mother put him into hakama. Ryoshi and Hashemitsu are brother and sister and they were there as Ujimoto-dono's retainers, while Mori, a relatively new guy who is friends with

purplepenguin , was there as his (purplepenguin's) retainer. Our complement was rounded out by Hatshepsut,

dustinmartinez and

the_ri.The Bushi from the Outlands never turned up. I dropped him an email this morning to let him know he was missed, but he has not replied. I do hope all is well.

We were a popular "tourist attraction." Passers by would admire the gate, peek in, ask permission to take pictures, and so forth. Seriously, the gate is our best feature. My "House of Cheerful Monkeys" is the only period pavilion in the joint and it's an anachronistic one at best, but you'd be surprised what a spray of plastic plum blossoms and some paper lanterns do to people's perceptions. (EDIT: My bad. The Han were ensconced in a square marquee pavilion, made Chinese-ish by red lanterns, banners and more koi windsocks than Boy's Day in Kyoto.) It would be great if we could tart the place up a bit more, but one makes do with what one has.

The sake party came and went. Mitsuhide showed up with Bruce and Ludmilla from the Barony of the Far West (Japanese nationals with European personae that he'd met while fighting). They'd brought some ~~jet fuel~~ shoju to share - I'd never had it before. We were also privileged to attend upon

syele (Her Highness of the Mists) and Her Highness Aeschine of Cynagua and their entourage. (Muriel has FINALLY made it to one of my sake tastings - Yay!) I am pleased that I estimated well in terms of how much sake to bring, though the snacks and mochi didn't go like they did last year.

Yesterday's teaser: "I am a rock star." Both of me. Well, sorta. Saionji no Hanae keeps getting recognized by strangers. At Sunday's Artisan's Display (where I was once again the only Westerner to turn up either as an exhibitor or a member of the viewing public), it was my fortune to be seated beside an embroiderer from Artemesia who told me her husband couldn't wait to meet me. He showed up towards the very end, carrying a purple and white linen dan gawari kosode that he'd painted with alternating motifs of peaches (gold on the purple) and fans (purple on the white) - having been inspired by my website. He gave me a pouch made out of some of the purple linen with the peach motif and I am now using it to store the game pieces for the sugoroku board. There was also a moment when Wu-hime and I were strolling Merchant's Row in our respective Chinese and Japanese glam and someone commented admiringly about visitors from the silk road. We be stylin', oh yes.

George and the hurdy gurdy continue to garner smiles - and interruptions. People who would not dare interrupt other performers have no qualms about walking up and asking, "What is that?" It can be very frustrating, but it's part of the gig. I smile, I crack open the lid, I give the nickel tour, I go through the motions of playing and walk around merchant's row, stopping when I come into another musician's sound shadow. Even the cheating bastard who felt the need to amplify his mandolin. With reverb, no less. They remember the monkey's name when they don't remember mine. Always. Sunday afternoon, I'd finished the display sit, I'd changed into my woolens and decided to make a last lap around Merchant's Row and maybe grab a bite to eat before everyone tore their tents down. I came around the corner and found this year's iteration of Wolgemut sitting next to the crepe stand having a cigarette break. I asked how their war had been. The vielle player asked about my gurdy. We managed to figure out what key I'd been playing in (I'd simply been tuning it to itself for the past several days, seeing as I was going solo anyway). Before things could devolve into a "What do you know?" "Well, what do you know?" spiral, I simply launched into "Bache Bene Venies." The drummers ground out their butts and joined in. We rocked. Then the vielle player started up "In Taberna." In a minor key. I yanked the penny whistle out of my haversack and played that. I even got a solo. Playing hasn't felt that good in a very, VERY long time.

Yesterday's teaser: "You have just given Libya The Bomb,"said

sasha_khan upon seeing my "okie-dokie-daiko" drums made from cardboard tubing and strapping tape. He's already planning an adaptation for the construction of tupan. While The Turk and The Han Bastard never managed to meet, I did get Wu-hime over to Caidan territory to discuss Mongolian boots with C. - and I put in an order for a pair for myself. I stopped by their camp again on Sunday and got more face time with my favorite Saracen and my hand bowed over by Caid's Duke Edric.

Yesterday's teaser: I need to take my brain out, soak it in Clorox, and get some sleep. Why the Clorox? Well, I had to sit through several songs by two of my camp mates on Saturday night which are not only inappropriate for the SCA (being about as un-medieval as one can get), they are completely inappropriate for polite company (being rude, crude, lewd, politically incorrect, etc.) Sometimes one has to hold still and politely take it up the, er, ear, for friends who don't get to sing together often as they are now living in separate states. I could've survived and benefited from the karmic balance even, only the noise attracted a drive-by barding that included "The Scotsman," a song that's funny once and has been done to death and decay, and a ditty about Viagra getting into a town's water supply. I made a feeble and pathetic attempt with "The Shopping Uruk-hai" and forgot a line. Go me. Bleh. Small wonder I don't want to sing at SCA events any more. It is the suck.
More on the ~~Arts Jihad~~ Artisan's Display: It was not quite as big as last year. Some of that may be that people were tearing down and bugging out early in anticipation of weather rumors. As mentioned, I shared half a table with a needleworker who was pleasant company. I put out one of the okedodaiko on the floor in front of the table, propped the binder with "Divers Arts of Japan" and my name on the front on top of it, then had the sugoroku box, hiogi and shibori sampler on the table, while I wore the shibori kosode. Having such a varied collection of stuff worked pretty effectively. I never knew which item might attract someone's interest. Talked to quite a lot of folks, got some nice compliments on pretty much everything - and have determined that when you invite people to try giving a drum a whack, 98% of them will timidly tap it. There was a Comeedia del Art (that's how she pronounced it too) performance I Sebastiani they were not, though they were moderately amusing.

Her Highness Syele brought up the Silver Muse at the sake party and I thought, "Uh oh, I thought I was done with this competition crap." Instead, it looks like the HOCM will be open for visitors as a display space at Mists Coronet. Perhaps I can set up a sort of tagasode tableau with some of my garments against the blinds, put out some of the other things I've put together, serve tea even.

And while I'm at it, here's a poke at A Certain Person Of The Lanky And Turkish Persuasion to remember to send me details on Collegium Caidis so we may determine whether it is logistically feasible for me to haul down south and do the teachin' thing.

Yesterday's teaser: "I attended a Foxes' Wedding with all the trimmings." In Japanese folklore, foxes (kitsune) are notorious tricksters. A "foxes' wedding" refers to when it is sunny and raining at the same time. The drive from site was completely uneventful until I got to Palm Desert, where the sky opened up. It rained non-stop from there all the way up to Santa Clarita. I kept seeing conflicting instructions on the freeway signs about closures and/or detours from I-5 north of Santa Clarita, so I decided to tough it out. Traffic slowed to a crawl for about an hour, then we filtered up into the grapevine for the Foxes' Wedding, complete with sun & rain, sun & snow flurries, and the ever popular sun & hail. Pulled over into the TA at the bottom of the hill to use a rest room and witnessed a spectacular, if squat, bit of rainbow before getting back on I-5. Despite delays, I managed to get home by 10 PM. (Unfortunately, I have not been able to do much in the way of unpacking due to continued rain today. I really need to get the tentage out of the back of the truck to air out!)

I regret to report that my camera never made it out of the basket the entire event.

Note to self: start shopping for a better sleeping bag. Temps got down into the frost/ice range most nights this year.