Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Ah, something of this century spun through my head last night. I couldn’t get rid of it, so I’m posting it here and passing it on to others. It’s that riff that runs through the song that keeps hooking me. Once again, as with many songs I hear, I wonder, what the hell are they singing? More importantly, what does it mean?
Here’s The White Stripes with “Seven Nation Army” from two thousand three.
He knew the way out. It was clearly marked; there was no other path.
That singular route didn’t mean it was easy. He’d seen it for months but had never felt like he was ready to take it on. Now that he was ready, he was scared. The route was well-lit, and, yet, it seemed fearfully hard.
He kept telling himself, “I can do this, I can do this,” but that didn’t get him moving. So he sat and waited, hoping for a sign that it was time, or a voice notifying him that if he went now, it would be all right.
No signs ever came. No one ever spoke that he heard. Oh, sometimes there were others, but most of their words were faint. Few made sense. They weren’t the encouragement he desired. Eventually, on his own, he summoned his will and embraced the path.
It was time to be born.
In a day of routines dribbling into a week of routines which flow into months and years of routines, I hunt variations.
Most of these come through my daily walks. I wear a Fitbit. My goal before sitting down to write each day is to achieve six thousand steps. Six thousand steps will provide me a comfortable start to the day’s walking goals. The steps, while a carrot, aren’t the day’s goal. I strive for seven miles plus.
Walking to the coffee shop where I write would help me with my walking goals. It’s two miles in either direction. I’ve walked it, and therein found why I don’t like it: it’s a boring, tedious, mundane walk. It’s literally a straight walk. To reach the coffee shop, I make two turns before walking one point nine six miles. Then I make another turn to enter the coffee shop. It’s a slight downward grade on the way into town, and an uphill walk in the other way. The monotony of this route throttles my senses.
To counter this, I drive three quarters of the way. Then I park and walk the downtown areas of Ashland. In this way, I can change routines on whim, and see variations that I’d not otherwise encounter. The variations stimulate my imagination, creativity and productivity.
That’s more critical now. I’m cop- editing a completed novel and just finished publishing a paperback edition of one of my previously published novels. These are not creative outlets. I invent stories as I walk, stories lost to the mind stream by the time I sit down and embrace the business of novel editing and publishing.
Sometimes my need and desire for routines sicken me. It seems seem unhealthy. On the other hand, the routines keep me on a sane path, pushing toward my goals.
Now, with my regular quad shot mocha in hand, sitting at the table and my documents open, it’s time to edit like crazy, at least one more time. It’ a grind, but it must be done.
Had beers (Caldera Pilot Rock Porter for me, thanks) with my friends last night. A staid group, they’re retired materials and sound engineers, doctors, university professors, and physicists. A small group, just eight last night, I’m the youngest by eight years. None of those present last night knew this song. Hope you do.
Here’s ZZ Top performing “Beer Drinkers & Hell Raisers” on their nineteen seventy-three album, “Tres Hombres.” I listened to this album a great deal during my junior and senior high school years, especially in art class.
Exascatrate (Catfinition): Irritating feline behavior; a feline whose behavior irritates others.
In Use: “Jade exascatrated us for revenge by going to her litter box, and flinging all the litter out of her box.”
Defurestation (Catfinition): A policy of attempting to remove all shed cat fur from every possible service. Pro-defurestation camps and con-defurestation factions have strongly held opinions about the value of defurestation. Con-defurestation fans advocate that trying to remove all cat fur is senseless, that cat fur on clothing and furniture, or in food, is an acceptable risk for bonding with a cat. Pro-defurestation people say, “Bullshit to all that.”
I dreamed that I discovered I had these pieces with the power to change the world.
The pieces weren’t special to regard. Several sets existed and seemed to serve different purposes. As I was just learning about these, I began sorting the shapes and noticing their colors. I began experimenting with their uses. For that purpose, I chose the black shapes. Each of these were about four inches long. Shaped like angle-iron, they appeared to be plastic.
I looked over a familiar scene from our town, Ashland, across the highway and valley to where Grizzly Peak rules a sloping landscape dominated by vineyards. Using the black power pieces, I put four along the bottom and top of the scene, and two more on either side. With these blocks outlining that scene, I knew I could change it. I knew I could put it anywhere I desired.
I was thrilled and pleased to realize I’d discovered that I had these power blocks and capability. I experienced an epiphany that I had the power to change. I wanted to learn more, and share the information with other people. As the dream concluded, I felt rewarded, satisfied, and optimistic.
Catasy (Catfinition): felines’ imaginary worlds, although such worlds often include real people, locations, and events that become embellished with the cat’s personal perspective.
In Use: “The cats were restricted to the house during the fireworks, to help them stay safe and feel safer. However, they soon developed catasies about being captured by evil creatures who were unjustly imprisoning them. With these catasies as a fount for their energy, they soon began hunting escape routes.”
Michael Seidel, writer 