I was going ato be clever and use the lyrics from “Will You Miss Me When I’m Gone” but it’s WAY too lugubrious and icky. So then I went with Dan Hicks’ “How Can I Miss You if You Won’t Go Wway?” Which has lots more funny than I remembered. (and I’m racing this morning so apologies if the words are wrong, they’re copied from a couple websites that give credits but still can’t necessary spell)

I've talked to your mother and I've talked to your dad,
They say they've tried but it's all in vain.
I've begged and I've pleaded, I even got [mad,
Now we must face it, you give me a pain.

How can I miss you when you won't go away?
I keep telling you day after day,
But you won't listen, you always stay and ]stay,
How can I miss you when you won't go away?

Your never-ending presence really cramps my style,
I dream that it won't always be the same.
At first I was attracted, but after a while,
Have you ever heard of a "hard to get me?"

But what I love is that my favorite “goodbye” song was recorded by Roy Clark , something I did not know until this very minute when I googled it. I only knew it as a regular number that Joan Baez would sing, usually at the beginning of the show or the second act of the show when the photographers would swarm at the lip of the stage.

“Thank God and Greyhound”
Words and music by Larry Kingston and Ed Nix

I've made a small fortune and squandered it all
You shamed me till I feel about one inch tall
But I thought I loved you and I hoped you would change
So I gritted my teeth and didn't complain
Now you come to me; with a simple good-bye
You tell me you're leavin' but you don't tell me why
Now we're here at the station and you're getting on
And all I can think of ... is ...
Thank God and Greyhound, you're gone.

Thank God and Greyhound, you're gone
I didn't know how much longer I could go on
Watchin' you take the respect out of me
Watchin' you make a total wreck out of me
That big diesel motor is a-playin my song
Thank God and Greyhound, you're gone.

Thank God and Greyhound, you're gone
That load on my mind got lighter when you got on
That shiny old bus is a beautiful sight
With the black smoke a-rollin' up around the tail light
It may sound kinda cruel but I've been silent too long
Thank God and Greyhound, you're gone.

TAG: Thank God and Greyhound, you're gone.

And apparently, I also learned, Dave Barry’s been blogging lo these many months and I had no idea. And I have to catch up at some point. I knew he’d taken a leave from the Miami Herald, but I have been missing Mr. Language Person. I wonder if I knew about this and conveniently forgot. As Stu puts it “I remembered right up until the point that I forgot.” Sometimes that happens three or four times.

Ahywho, I might be back here during Bcon ( I hope, I hope) I’m leaving GHASTLY early tomorrow morning and have much to do to get ready. I was supposed to be out of the house by now. Sigh. Over on Sarah’s blog, lots of folks are talking about posting lots of pictures. I said over there, to the confusion of at least one person that I don’t “do” pictures, and I don’t. I don’t like having my picture taken, and you’ve probably never seen me with a camera; the last time I took pictures was about 4 years ago on a trip back to Connecticut. This apparently puzzled folks who, at least over on yonder blog said they’d be doing lots of picture and not much commentary. I don’t get a lot of value out of pictures showing who’s attending a convention. It doesn’t tell me what happened. I tend to remember word images of events longer, or in more detail, I think, than in visuals. It’s not that I don’t like the visual – I adore it (says the woman who took 20 minutes looking at new graphics for a credit card last night and STILL couldn’t choose between the pretty sun, the flowers or the chimp), but I’d rather hear about what someone saId at a panel, or what someone SAID when they were handed at award than see what they were wearing, and who they were sitting with. Does that make sense? I’ll save the conversation longer than the image – I like stories I can save. I like stories I can tell years later; seeing a photo of a couple people at a convention doesn’t do much for me. So, okay, now I know what X looked like, or here’s me hugging Y. And? So here’s hoping for lots of quotable clever stories instead. Or, I could just make stuff up.