Fuzzy Fish

TTTO "rich fantasy lives" by Tom Smith and Rob Balder:

That guy in the store,
Buying yarn by the score
With a fever that I think that we know
With his hunched look of guilt;
There's a half-finished quilt
In his bag, and three skeins of merino.

As he unpacks his order,
Which he can't afford,
He'll sigh, feeling worn and defeated.
And the walls of the room
Strain to hold spindles, looms,
And projects that won't be completed

Poor impulse control
When fiber craft calls, he is held in its thrall.
Half-finished tapestries, unravelled shawls,
Speak of poor impulse control.

The QA you hear frown
From three cubicles down
Has scrolled now for two solid hours
She tried not to be grabbed -
But a (1) in the tab
Is holding her under its power.

It sings her a song
Of some guy who is wrong
On the net and must now be corrected.
She will close the tab, then
Have it open again
In a span of time barely detected.

Poor impulse control
She tries not to fall into feeding the trolls.
Her emails unread while the net takes its toll
Of her poor impulse control.

We do what we can
But whatever we plan
There's nothing but chaos behind it
The brains we have got
More often than not
Will grab onto joy where they find it

So don't be unkind
To your struggling mind;
Work with what you have, not against it.
Take care of yourselves
And make room on your shelves
For the days when your resolve is tested…

Poor impulse control
We need to feel whole in our spirit and soul
And sometimes that means extra cinnamon rolls
Poor impulse control

To the tune of "Nuts from the Hazel Tree" by Echo's Children

Recording from OVFF 2019

When I was young I used to look for fanfic on the net
Geocities, long disclaimers, terms that I forget
Browsing with a mighty greed
Now we can fulfil our need
n00b and BNF both read
Smut on the AO3

Websites, they take away
Fic in fandoms small and random.
Now our gay fanfic stays!
Smut on the AO3

I used to post on FF.N, but then they banned my fic.
LJ had the Strikethru and cut writers to the quick.
We’re no longer here alone
With the Archive of Our Own
We can write how werewolves bone
Smut on the AO3

Advertizers pay good cash for websites with good hits.
Free sites sell your information, every single bit.
For the servers we must pay.
If you can, donate today!
Let nobody take away
Smut on the AO3

I come to feast my eyes upon the wealth of written word
Now and then a vid is viewed, or podfics can be heard
Everybody now can give
Work that is transformative
Where in peace our slash can live -
Smut on the AO3

(To the tune of “The Boxer” by Simon and Garfunkel)

I am just a fangirl, and my story’s seldom told,
I have squandered all my hours
On a kindleful of yaoi, such are interwebz:
All cats and porn. Still, a girl reads what she wants to read
And other things she scorns.

When i wrote and published a WIP, i was no more than a n00b
In the company of ficcers,
In the silence of that comment section, no one wrote.
Waiting still, i would prowl the realms of LJ, seek the kink memes with a will,
Hunting for the new prompts waiting to be filled.

Asking only for some comments, I went posting up a fic,
but I got no feedback,
Just a “come review my game” from spammer viruses.
And as you’d think, there were times
when I was desperate enough to click that link.

Now I look at all my working drafts, and I’m wishing I was done, signing off
Where the cruel anons that bug me will not yell at me
Telling me
Delete your blog

In the forum stands a fangirl and a writer by her trade
and she carries the reminder of every concrit written in a comment till she cried out,
in her anger and her shame,
“I’M DELETING! I’M DELETING!“
but the orphaned fic remains

Do not forget to wash your hands

It puts us all in danger

You will be given reprimands

And scowling looks from strangers.

If you don't have a sink, it's wise

To do your best to sanitize…

Do not forget to wash your hands.

And mind your manners, lest illness overtake the land,

And don't forget to wash your hands!

Make proper use of PPE

To stave away diseases

Take off your gloves when you go pee

Put masks on for your sneezes!

And though you're lonely and upset

Don't buy any mosquito nets…

Make proper use of gloves and masks.

And mind your manners…

Do not go out into the street

Unless you have good reason

Except for meds or food to eat

Just wait until next season.

If seven hundred folks get sick

You'd be known as a giant prick…

Do not go out into the street.

Recording

TTTO "The Sparrow" by Beth Kinderman

Can you remind me what purpose are we serving?
I’m not sure I know the difference anymore.
Is it the road that I had struggled not to travel
Or the voice that called me onwards to explore?

I had a plan: how to save the world from ending
I thought I knew it all and understood
But I’m just a voice reading someone else’s statement
And naught I ever did did any good

Oh hear my cry,
Hear my terror and elation
Hear the words wrought to explain what can have no explanation
The Eye of the watcher,
We suffer and it sees it all -
But still I call, still I call, still I call…

We sought for knowledge and worked to meet the challenge
To keep safe the existence of mankind
We marched ahead, though we knew not what was happening:
We left our own humanity behind

There was no help to defeat what we were facing:
Atrocities beyond the know of man
Now that we know how this story will be ending
Perhaps we should have stopped when we began.

Oh hear my cry,
Hear my terror and elation
Hear the words wrought to explain what can have no explanation
The Eye of the watcher,
We suffer and it sees it all -
But still I call, still I call, still I call…

They took away one more person that I cared for
As though he was some nothing to discard
I matched my strength with the forces of the Lonely
Went in knowingly and came back with small and scarred

There is no hope in terror of the Beings,
Just the horror of the new world they will make
So I must ask: could I kept it all from happening,
If I just had the common sense to break?

Come now, Eye,
Flesh, Corruption, Desolation,
All who know and do not understand -
We’re lost in translation.
Their grasp on the world holds,
They’re coming and we’ve lost it all
But still I call, still I call, still I call…

TTTO: Great Big Sea’s version of Process Man

Recording

Oh, please go, just go,
He’ll bind your very soul
And every day you’re in this place, you’re nearer eaten whole.
Won’t you go?

Well an Archivist am I, and you cannot tell me lies,
Despite my will I’m serving still the foul whims of the Eye
By the scars he’s left upon me and the grey that’s in my hair,
I promise you, all that you do will not escape its stare.

Oh, please go, just go,…

I’ve been held by a mannequin until my spirit broke,
I've crawled beneath creation to the very heart of Choke.
I’ve had worms inside my every limb, near lost my hand to burns;
Amidst the wrath, he sits and laughs. It makes my stomach turn.

Oh, please go, just go,…

It seems like one more office job. I really wish it was.
Instead he makes us give our lives to some unholy cause.
Please learn from our mistakes. There is no way to quit this crew.
For every day you take his pay, he’ll take what’s left of you.

Oh, please go, just go,…