Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Catarm (Catfinition) A stiff and sore arm caused by holding it stationary because a sleeping cat is using it, and one doesn’t want to bother the sweet little purrbug.
In Use “When Brenda finally decided to move Pogo, she discovered she had a severe case of catarm to work out, and spent several minutes rubbing her bicep, forearm, and elbow to ease her stiffness.”
Today’s song came out during a time when I navigated the usual issues with understanding myself, love and life during my teenage years.
The song was written by Toy Caldwell, a founding member of the band, and a person of passions. He passed away in nineteen ninety-three, forty-five years old, from cardio and respiratory problems associated with cocaine use. It’s his lead guitar on the song.
The song is, “Can’t You See,” by the Marshall Tucker Band. It came out in nineteen seventy-three, and it’s one of those songs that captures the despair you can feel over something you’re enduring. The song’s sentiments ends up capable of being applied to many moments of frustration and hopelessness. “Can’t you see what you’re doing to me?” “Can’t you see what this job is doing to me?”
To me, to you, to us, you can run through the gamut and come out on the other side with the same vows the song encapsulates. “Gonna find me a mountain, jump off, and nobody’s going to know.” You’ve been pushed to your end. Then, after the release of all these thoughts, you reach a binary moment: which way you going to go? Are you really going to get on a freight train and run away, or jump off a mountain, or you going to suck it up, endure the pain, and find another way to press on regardless?
Some end up lost somewhere in the middle, unwilling or unable to commit to either direction.
Cat-ching (Catfinition): The sound that results from a cat’s sudden appearance when they hear sounds that could potentially be something for them to eat.
In Use: “Michael barely opened the small bag of fasteners, when Quinn appeared with a cat-ching. Raising his paw, me murmured, “Mew,” the cat equivalent to, “‘Sup?””
Had to record another epiphany. This one took place yesterday, at session’s end. Actually, I’d closed up the laptop and bagged it, and was walking out the door, when the epiphany staggered me. I considered opening the doc last night to record it, but the notion was overcome by events.
The doc is called The Epiphany. I created it back when I had that first epiphany. I didn’t think there would be more. It’s a documenting process outside of the clutter of note and snapshots that I began with this novel. I think its sheer complexity drove me to the problem. I’d often attempt to think of this novel in linear terms or straightforward acceptance of past, present and future. No, no, no, you fool! Hence, the epiphany was born.
Originally, there was just one, one important reminder to retain for focus as I wrote. A couple others evolved as the novel developed, and more emerged as I edited the novel. Now, there are eleven. Every day, I open and review them. I’ve considered printing them out and posting them to my office wall, but then additional epiphanies would require additional additional printings, and I’m all about saving the paper, right?
As for the epiphanies, they’re all about writing, editing and revising the novel, and ensuring I stay true to the vision, and not get hopelessly lost in the tangles. My motto, when it comes to writing, is whatever works.
What about you, writers? What coping tricks have you developed?
Holding onto his son’s hand, he’s walking back toward the hotel, accompanying his steps with a constant explanation. “We’re just going to the the hotel because Daddy forgot something, and so — ”
The child is pointing back toward the car. Mom is back there. He’s saying something incomprehensible.
Daddy pauses in his speech and then begins again. “No,” the son shouts. “I want Mom. I want Mom.”
“I’ll give you a Skittle — ”
“I want Mom! I want Mom!”
” — if you — ”
Mom calls, “Honey, you want to come get in the car with Mom?”
Silence falls. Dad asks, “Do you want to get in the car with Mom?”
“Yes.”
Problem solved. I’ve been there.
As the child.
Floofnetic (Catfinition) A person who seems to attract cats.
In Use: “Michael’s floofnetic appeal was displayed when he worked on the front lawn, as seven cats, from four houses, came to visit with him.”
This is a “recent” song for me. It came out in two thousand one, so that give us a sense of reference about how much I follow music these days.
That’s true with multiple areas. Matters about baseball, football, pop-culture, music, television, and auto-racing are less followed today. Instead, I follow housing starts, unemployment rates, consumer confidence, politics, and news. I think I’m beginning to mature.
This song, “Blurry,” came out in the aftermath of 9/11, but it’s appropriate for today, because this is Father’s Day in America. This song is about a young man trying to be a good father to his son after separating from the child’s mother. It’s a common theme in today’s America.
Here’s Puddle of Mudd.
Remember back when razors came as a single blade? Then we advanced to twin blades and multiple blades. My current razor has three blades. It’s all in the pursuit of the closest shave possible.
And that was a good thing. It used to be so hazardous walking on the street as a man. You’d be going along, minding your own business, when, suddenly, a car screeches to a halt beside you, lights flashing. Uniformed people would leap out and surround you. “Let us feel your shave,” they would order, “to ensure it’s the closest that it can be.”
You had no choice but to comply, or risk getting sent to a barber for a shave. Our nation had no tolerance for any but the cleanest shaved man.
That’s how it seemed, at least from the commercials and advertisements.
I’ve always been amused by that approach, that more blades mean a closer shave, and more particularly, that a close shave is critical to civilization’s continued existence. We seem to be going down a similar path with computer security. If one layer of authentication is good, two is better. Hence, they’ve launched double-layered and two-step authentication. Naturally, it’s doomed to fall. Experts don’t seriously believe an absolutely secure computer is possible, if it’s accessing the web.
But I see a day in the future when companies and websites will tell you, “We’re more secure, because we have three layers of security.” Then someone else will announced, “Our security is better because we have four layers,” and the security race will be on.
Razors and computer security weren’t the first to think that if some was good, more was better. Remember American car ads, touting lower, longer, wider?
Ford probably took the idea of more is better to an unusual but clever conclusion. They speculated that if some was good, then more is better with its front-end dive on braking. If some dive indicated your car’s brakes were doing their job and stopping you, then more dive would indicate better braking, right? They saved a lot of money and gained sales by gaming people into the perception their brakes were better because of that impressive front-end dive when you slammed on the brakes, when nothing had been changed.
Of course, we’ve always had the cubic inch and horsepower race. Still do, actually. Because, as they say, if some is good, more is better.
Probably why we have so many nukes in the United States. At least it feeds the perception that we’re safer.
Like with computers.
I had a song selected for today. Then I saw episode eight of “The Handmaid’s Tale” last night.
The episode, ambiguous, powerful and emotional, full of shifting insights, was highlighted with a Nina Simone song. Man, I love her music. It was a perfect choice to mark the scene’s denouement.
The other choice, the original song, is “School’s Out,” by Alice Cooper.
There’s a striking dichotomy between the two songs, and the thinking behind them. The Simone song was about choices and the road being taken. The Alice Cooper song is a spiteful, joyous celebration of celebrate children’s ‘freedom from school’. I wanted to play “School’s Out” not because I go to school, but with school out, we don’t need to slow down for the school zone. Almost every major road in this small town goes through a school zone, forcing traffic into a tedious crawl. It’s a small, but annoying price, for safety, right? But hooray, speed! We can go five, sometimes ten miles per hour faster. Woo-hoo!
After some thought about it while brewing coffee this morning, I went with “School’s Out” because I didn’t want to debase the use of the Simone song in “The Handmaid’s Tale.” That powerful and shocking cautionary story shouldn’t be dragged down into the meanderings of a mindless blog like this.
Besides, Alice Cooper was part of my first concert I ever attended. The other two acts that day at Three Rivers Stadium were Uriah Heep and Humble Pie. Excellent concert. Memorable.
Here it is, from nineteen seventy-two, “School’s Out.” Crank it up and sing along, if you know the words. Just fake it, if you don’t. Nobody cares.
Michael Seidel, writer 