Today’s Theme Music

Weird dream last night, featuring ear wax. Ear wax! I was so thrilled that this ear wax came out of my ear, like a quarter teaspoon of ear wax. The way I acted in the dream, excited and pleased, it was like I’d found a bonanza. And my friends and family with me were also very excited, gathering around to look huddle and wonder with hope, “Is there more in there?”

Oddly, too, the dream, or circumstances, lead me to awaken with a song in the mental iPod. It’s a song that means little to me, so I pulled it up, looking for connections to my earwax dream or my life. Found nothing. I blame the song’s presence in my head to serendipity. Between the song and the ear wax, it’s a strange morning.

But in thinking about that song and the dream and their connections with my life, another song arose in the playlist. I like it better, so here it is.

Say hello to John Lennon and the Plastic Ono Band presenting Instant Karma’ in 1970. It’s a song I sometimes hold onto as a hope and a wish when I see people mistreating, killing, abusing and cheating others.

Oh, but to dream.

 

Pushing

It’s good to push sometimes. For me, that’s especially true for physical activities.

Feel that burn, baby. Feel the muscles demanding, cease and desist already. Meanwhile, you make promises. “Come on, just five more.” You count them down and your muscles and joints respond. Then you urge, “Five more!”

“No,” they shout back, but still they try, damn it, and you go on like this with the sweat beading, streaming and dripping, stinging your eyes and flavoring your lips with a salty essence as your heart attempts to free itself through your sternum and your pulse thunders in your temples, until the end is reached and you are spent, and you sit, limp, breathing hard, but smiling.

I used to do this, too, with projects in the military and with my various employers. One more hour, I’d promise myself, my wife, my friends as the work day ended and darkness fell, but I’d need to keep working, keep going, chugging coffee, concentrating, head down and all in, until, fini. All would be amazed, asking, “You did that in one day?”

Yeah. I was ‘ate up’ as we liked to say in the military.

I don’t do that with fiction writing. Yesterday was a beautiful, glorious writing day. Finishing and editing one chapter, I saw the sources for five chapters – this is where they begin. I saw the chapter titles and the essence of their chapters and how the five flowed to form the confluence of the novel’s climax. So I wrote notes to capture the gist. As I did, specifics for the chapters came into my head, so I wrote random paragraphs for each, capturing scenes, dialogue exchanges, and sharp special moments. This went on and on. It seemed like an endless stream. I thought, “If I push this, I can write these five chapters today.”

But no; I don’t do this with my writing. After debating it and accepting the decision, I wondered why. I knew the why but I wanted something more tangible for me to understand. As I walked après-writing, I concluded creative energy is different from physical, mental and emotional energy (or time energy, but that would be a huge other post). I can only address it from my point of view, but I have my writing history, along with my drawing and painting history, to see how I approach creative activities differently than other activities. Yes, in my employed life, I often used this creative approach to decide how to tackle issues and situations, but once engaged, the creative energy was no longer required.

Perhaps it’s only me; we’re all different. Even though the end results, words in some media, look the same, we came to it in unique, individual ways. For me, the creative energy is deeper and more taxing to draw out, even when it starts gushing. I’ve come to understand, accept and respect that.

But this is a new day. Fortunately, I can draw fresh creative energy almost every day. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

Today’s Theme Music

I’ve decided it’s time to upgrade. In accordance with that decision, I’ve replaced my mental jukebox with a mental iPod. Yes, I’ve gone digital.

That required me to transfer all my music from the old jukebox to the iPod. That required a lot of time. Although the mental jukebox was old, it still performed pretty well, only occasionally not playing something correctly. It was pretty full, though. Mom loves music and so does my older sis. The two were feeding me songs from the beginning. They influenced me to continue the pursuit of listening to music throughout my life.

This might have a tangible effect on these posts. I may end up repeating some songs and memories. Sorry about that. These things sometimes happen during upgrades.

The song chosen today was influenced by that realization. It also features a performer who’s had a long, impressive career. This selection strikes me as apropos for these backslide sidestep shuffle politics that seem to be permeating global legislatures. I know you’re reading with bated breath and asking, Seidel, what’s the song already?

I’ll tease you no longer.

Well, maybe one more paragraph. This song was enjoyed while I was living in Mountain View, California, commuting to work at PAS in Palo Alto for my first employment after retiring from the Air Force. I retired in November, 1995, and started working for them in December, 1995.

Here it is, then, from 1998, Shirley Bassey and the Propellerheads with ‘History Repeating’. 

 

Consumption

 

ashland-downtown_fitbox_800x800

Walking around, I’ve just recognized how much my little town of Ashland, population about twenty grand, offers visitors and residents. Of course, it’s all about experiences here. On center stage is the the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and the Green Show (free) but there is also the annual Ashland International Film Festival. Southern Oregon University generate learning activities. Your reading fixes can be attended through Bloomsbury, the Book Exchange, and the Book Wagon.

Want a marijuana high or need a medical high? We have you covered. Marijuana is legal in our state, county, and town. Several dispensaries are here to guide you through your choices. You can smoke, vape or eat to fill your need, although you can’t do it out in public, as signs will remind you. Locally produced chocolates are made at Branson’s to handle that munchie or go to Market of Choice and ogle their pastries, breads, pies, cakes, cookies, scones and cheeses, or ice creams, pastries and gelato at Mix, on the plaza.

standing-stone-sampler

Prefer an amber or red ale, pilsner, IPA, porter, stout or lager? Local breweries, led by Caldera Brewing and Standing Stone Brewing, are doing great. Fill your growler at Gil’s or Growler Guys. Gil’s is alongside Ruby’s, where flavorful wraps and sandwiches can be ordered. Ruby’s and Gil’s share owners so you can buy at one place and consume the other. This is pretty cool; Ruby’s has patio sitting available where you can dine in sunshine. Gil’s patio is covered and has fire pits.

Growler Guys also have fire pits. Having a beer as the wind blows your face, the rain falls a few inches away, and a fire warms you as you watch people and cars pass is an an elemental experience.

weisinger-family-winery_0035_fitbox_600x600

If beer and grass aren’t to your taste, you can enjoy wines from multiple local vineyards, like Weisinger, literally down the street from me. Or zip across the valley to Belle Fiori. Don’t want to drink and drive? Don’t worry, you can enjoy tastings at several locations and the local wines are offered in multiple restaurants.

booth__005_lo

Yeah, like to eat? As a progressive town, vegans and vegetarians are taken care of, but places like Smithfields will satisfy carnivores. Lark’s is wonderful for more unique dining choices. Although we lack decent Mediterranean and Greek fares IMO, the downtown area and plaza can see you through yearnings for American, Sushi, Chinese, Mexican, English, French, and Italian. Martolli’s sells sensational pizzas whole and by the slice. Louie’s on the plaza is one of our favorite places to eat. Brothers, Breadboard, Morning Glory and Waffle Barn will do you for breakfast and lunch, but you can have an awesome Chicago style sandwich at Sammich. But the Ashland Food Co-op creates some of the best sandwiches and wraps, which are sold in several local stores and cafes.

market-pics_ahogge-summertime-2014

Naturally, there is a farmer and grower’s market, run by the RV Growers. Fresh produce, prepared foods like pies are available at the Saturday’s Grower’s Market. The Tuesday’s Grower’s Market has a larger location, and food trucks are present to serve you as you shop. Coffee shops all over the place, less now than there were a few years ago. Noble Coffee is one of several places roasting and grinding their own coffee beans. Zoey’s handles local demands for ice cream and milkshakes. If your burden is clothing shopping, the downtown is full of new and used clothing stores and boutiques. Every Saturday during the summer and fall, the Art

frontentrancelithiapark2013

Or just wander through Lithia Park by the creek, following the trails, or sitting by the ponds, watching ducks or enjoying the deer’s presence as they meander through town and the park, nibbling at plants and grasses, looking at you as you look at them.

alexlockhart_mt_ashland_06-01-21

 

It’s amazing. Prefer skiing, hit Mt Ashland. Want to venture further away, we’re located just off Interstate 5, seventeen miles north of the California border, less than three hundred miles from San Francisco to the south and Portland to the north, and there are many amazing places between those two.

I’d write more about it all, but I’m hungry.

A Day Off

I took the day off from novel writing yesterday. OMG, I hated doing so.

I hated taking time off from work back in the days when I worked or was in the military. Even when off, I checked in, kept in touch, monitored things and was ready to take care of problems. I was never really off.

The same goes on with my writing efforts. I frequently write in my head and love sitting down and writing a few hours every day. Writing provides me with intense joy and satisfaction. That’s great, I love that I receive emotional and intellectual rewards for my efforts. But, I’ve conditioned myself to write every day. I love that structure.

I cling to that structure.

I knew all that.

I hated knowing because knowing means I could either be willfully ignorant and act in bad faith, or I could ‘do the right thing’.

A Resist Trump march going on in Medford was the wedge issue. My wife wanted to attend and felt it important to attend. I wanted to attend but I wanted to write. I’d put off a lifelong desire to write and pursue my dreams to provide us security and help her pursue her career. Surely I deserve to pursue my dream.

Besides that, Michael, I told myself. You’ll be in a crowd, with all that this means. I’m not a social person. People are energy sucks for me. I’d be waaay out of my comfort zone.

Being out of my comfort zone is supposed to be good for me. Supposed to help me grow.

Yeah, but I don’t wanna grow. Can’t I just stay as I am? Can’t I just be selfish? Damn it, no.

Damn it.

The other aspect of this was working around the march period. We were meeting up at 11:40 AM. The location was thirty minutes away by car. The march itself was to be from noon to 1:30. Basically, I consider that the meat of the day. I could push, get up early, wiggle in some writing time beforehand. I considered the logistics and issues with this, knowing the Boulevard opens early enough, but is busy early and very full. Chances of finding a table were low.

I could write afterward. If I was truly dedicated, I would, but here is where my crutches were employed, things like my energy levels and writing preferences.

I could try writing at home.

Yes, I’ve tried that multiple times. It’s hugely disappointing and frustrating, partially because its silence highlights the interruptions, and the interruptions are of a personal nature.

That left me with not writing.

This so bothered me that I didn’t sleep Monday night. According to Fitbit, I achieved a little over three hours.

I understand myself, and I don’t understand myself. I can control myself and I can’t control myself. I’m such a conflicted person.

Worse, and not surprising, was that since I didn’t write, my writer wasn’t happy and kept pushing words and scenes into front center stage during the march. Apparently nobody notified him that I was taking the day off.

As if he’d care. He and the muse have independent contracts. The contracts stipulate they’re required to use my mind and body to do my writing, but they don’t always accept the limitations incumbent in that arrangement.

TG I’m back here today, coffee at hand, free and ready to write like crazy again, at least one more time.

Here I go. Three…two…one….

Blast-off.

 

Glass

My dreams were like glass last night, slick and transparent, and then breaking with sound, jarring me from one direction and composure, launching me into a spin.

I saw myself in different worlds, and viewed myself in different times, leaving me to awaken and wonder, where am I now and where have I been?

My body was rigid. The colors struck me with hurricane force and the sounds were like boulders falling down around me. Stars stared down at me and I stared back. The Sun lit the darkness with a sudden flare, and I saw more, and further, in its blaze. I saw mountains and seas, buildings and cities, volcanoes and swamps, violent red sunsets and cold red mornings where my breath fogged the air into crystallized obscurity. I saw sunshine on ice and moonlight on ink.

But I stood straight and remained myself throughout the changes. And awakening, thinking and contemplating the melting shards of dream, I was pleased that I had that much.

unplug

And sometimes, so I think. Withdraw. Disengage. Pause and let my thoughts settle like the mud swirling in stream, like the motes dancing in the sunshine, like the leaves caught in a whirlwind.

Finding the center is hard. Keeping the balance is difficult. Stilling the thoughts, impossible.

Yet, I try.

Amy's avatarMy Path with Stars Bestrewn

unplug

It’s more for me as with going into a forest:
if you sit quietly for a long time,
the life around you emerges.
As the world grows ever more clamorous,
my hunger for silence steepens.
I unplug the landline.

~Jane Hirshfield

View original post

Today’s Theme Music

This whimsical song, ‘At the Zoo’, is from yonks ago. I don’t agree with Simon and Garfunkel’s characterizations of the animals but they’re interesting. Reading about the song on good old Wikipedia.org, I discover that the song was written for ‘The Graduate’  but was never used.

I remember being young and awash in sunshine as I walked some Laketon Road in Wilkinsburg where we lived in a duplex. Dad had given me a small transistor radio. A brown leather carrying case was provided for it. I could slip my belt through the back of the leather case and carry the radio around but have my hands frees. I was listening to this song, clapping my hands to it as it speeds up, trying to sing the lyrics.

Anyway, it’s a mellow, lighthearted song. Hope you have a mellow, lighthearted day. Me, I’m drinking coffee, listening to the music, and reading the neighborhood out my window.

It’s my own sort of zoo.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑