Catalong (definition): A feline habit of following or accompanying others during their activities.
In use: “Whenever Crystal heard the key in the lock, she would jump up to go greet her people, and her kittens would catalong.”
Here is my interview with Michael Seidel
My interview with Fiona Mcvie. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed the process. Cheers
Hello and welcome to my blog, Author Interviews. My name is Fiona Mcvie.
Let’s get you introduced to everyone, shall we? Tell us your name. What is your age?
Michael Seidel, sixty years and a couple hundred days old.
Fiona: Where are you from?
I was born in Virginia in the US. I was a military brat, though, so I’ve lived all over the U.S., and then I was in the military and lived and traveled the world. I now live in southern Oregon.
Fiona: A little about yourself (i.e., your education, family life, etc.).
Retired from the U.S. Air Force after twenty years in 1995. I’ve been married for forty-two years and now live in Ashland, Oregon, held hostage by four male cats. IF YOU CAN READ THIS, PLEASE SEND CAT KIBBLE. I did stints in Silicon Valley in the SF Bar Area with…
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Today’s Theme Music
Mom gave this album to me for a Christmas present in nineteen seventy-three, a gift made on my older sister’s recommendation.
I was ecstatic. I’d only heard and read a little about the album, ‘Quadraphenia,’ but I was an enormous Who fan at that point. Come on, they were fresh off ‘Tommy’ and ‘Who’s Next?,’ with the legendary, ‘Won’t Be Fooled Again.’ Their music spoke to a wannabe teenage rebel on the cusp of childhood’s end.
I played the bejesus out of this album, generally at a wall-shaking volume. This song, ‘The Real Me,’ was the opening track. While the song speaks to me with its lyrics and Daltry’s delivery, I’m enamored with Entwhistle’s flowing, active, dominating bass.
The cracks between the paving stones
Look like rivers of flowing veins
Strange people who know me
Peeping from behind every window pane
The girl I used to love
Lives in this yellow house
Yesterday she passed me by
She doesn’t want to know me now
h/t to Metrolyrics.com
I think it’s an appropriate song for the Internet age and the era of fake news. People hide behind anonymous posts and comments, putting forward false identities, deploying lies and false information to stoke fear and doubt, and further their causes.
Can you see the real me?
A Dream of Reassurance
The dream leaped into chaos. ‘They’ were trying to become organized.
First, we were working in packed offices. All were dressed in dark blue utility uniforms and black jump boots. Men and women were present, but no children, and no elderly. Thirty people were using office space planned for ten people. I was upper middle-management, which afforded me more freedom and space. While the majority worked at two rows of tables, side by side by side, elbows to assholes, my space was in the back. But the filing cabinets, telephones, and coffee fax machines were at the front. I was required to go forward to get what I needed, and then go back via a narrow row. The two people in charge would often be in that narrow row, talking, planning and consulting, forcing me to wait and fume with impatience.
So I began thinking ahead about other things that I could do. I knew, in the dream, we would be leaving soon. We would not be able to take much. There was something confusing in the dream about carefully cutting our pockets from our shirts to make quasi-gloves to protect our hands, and wearing strange netting as leggings to protect our legs.
The order came to pack up. Confusion and noise levels increased as we, and thousands of others, left our offices and crowded into a marshaling area. I followed all the instructions. Inspectors went through to see how everyone was doing. My activities impressed them, which amused me.
But horror struck me after a while. I realized that I’d done as instructed, and had packed my laptop into my luggage. My God, what a mistake, I thought. I was distraught, believing, people handling the bags will rip me off. I’d never see that computer again, and all my work on it would be lost.
At that point, I began stirring from my sleep, and the dream. As I did, a voice said, “Don’t worry. You’re not going to lose anything. You still have everything you need.”
Just before I left the dream, I was given my wheeled black travel bag. I opened it, and there was my laptop. I awoke, pleased and relieved.
Michael Seidel, writer 