Thursday’s Theme Music

My mind works in a stream of connections that’s difficult to corrall. Sometimes they hit and fire neurons into expected directions.

Like today. Out of the fire streams “Psycho Killer” by the Talking Heads. Interesting song. Anything to do with Thursday? No. Thanksgiving? Not that I recall. Dreams, or writing? Nope, and no.

It just pops in. Maybe I heard a fragment of sound or glimpsed a word or image that fired the song back to life in my head. Yeah, it’s a Frankenstein existence up there.

Cool song, though. fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better than many others.

While

While I looked out the window.

And studied the rainbow.

And thought about rainbows and the myths and science about them.

And admired its beauty.

While sleep was still being chased away.

And thoughts frolicked with dream remnants.

And the day’s planned activities opened in my mind like a hand of cards.

And I thought about making the first cup of coffee.

While I thought about what I was going to do today.

And what I needed to do.

I turned to my computer, and opened my file.

The file of the section of the novel in progress I’m working on.

And I typed.

A hundred words.

Five hundred.

One thousand.

Twelve hundred.

Fifteen hundred.

Then the scene was done.

And I reviewed what I’d written.

And closed the file.

And while I thought about what I’d just written.

And what was to be written.

And what it meant for what was already written.

I went to make my morning coffee.

Thanksgiving Thursday

If you’re celebrating Thanksgiving, I hope the day is joyful, the food and drink is plentiful, and you have a chance to relax and enjoy yourself.

If you’re not celebrating Thanksgiving, I hope the day is joyful, the food and drink is plentiful, and you have a chance to relax and enjoy yourself.

That’s my hope for everyone for everyday.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

I associate this song with Thanksgiving, and as it’s the day before Thanksgiving in America, I thought I’d proffer this humorous, mellow gem from nineteen sixty-seven.

Peace out.

Omens

Do you ever get up in the night because you heard a noise, or need to pee, or want a glass of water, and step into a pile of cat puke, and think, (after some disgusted cursing), that’s not a good sign? Do you ever then walk barefoot outside to admire the sunrise and breath in the fresh air, and step into another vomit puddle, and think, that’s not a good omen for the day?

Anyone know a good hairball remedy for cats?

Floofbling

Floofbling (catfinition) – 1. one or more cats having a common owner; 2. a dog or person that a cat treats as a sibling; 3. sparkling jewelry worn by a cat (slang)

Tuesday’s Bumper Sticker

This bumper sticker raised several questions.

1. Beered? I get it, but…hmm….

2. Is someone trying to debeer Missoula?

3. Debeer? Hmm….

 

Her

Noises awoke Thomas.

He was a little embarrassed by that. He’d been pleased to find “Unforgiven” on the streaming offerings. This dovetailed with his recent thinking that being an alien’s pet wasn’t that much different from being retired. There were some restrictions, like he wasn’t allowed to travel, and he missed his coffee shop and going to the movies and concerts, but on the other hand, he had no money worries, and his health seemed better than it had in years.

Yes, there were no people around, but he’d never been a people person, as the phrase had been popularized. People seemed like energy vampires, draining him of some essential, personal essence. The trend had grown worse as he’d aged. They seemed so shrill, and had such flawed thinking and expressed it poorly. That trend developed a new practice for him of avoiding people. So the lack of people now was…not…bad.

Bottom line, this life wasn’t that bad. He’d decided to enjoy it.

So he’d broken open a bottle of California red wine, found some Colby cheese and crackers from the supplies they’d given him, and watched “Unforgiven,” in the middle of the day. And he’d fallen asleep, right when William Munny was coming into town after Little Bill because Little Bill had killed Ned Logan. In other words, close to the end.

The movie was over. Now, there was this. Noises.

The noises were coming from above. Disconcerting. He’d never heard anything like them. He went out into his yard to investigate.

What he saw was two of the grey-green aliens with yellow eyes. His master — or mistress, if the alien was female — or should he bother with such sexist distinctions? — was standing to one side. “Thomas,” she said.

Thomas nodded, and waved. “Hello.”

She and the others made the noises that Thomas had indexed as laughing.

She held up her hand. In it was a female.

A young one, by appearances. Perhaps a teenager. He wasn’t competent when guessing others’ ages.

“Oh, no,” Thomas said. Understanding was rising. They were removing the top to deliver a new person to his set. The new person was a female.

Yes, on the cusps of that understanding, the top was raised, and a small, white girl was hand-delivered to the yard not far from him.

“No,” Thomas said. “No. I’m gay.”

Laughing and talking, the aliens returned the top to the cage. Fucking alien morons. 

Thomas looked at the newcomer. She looked as angry as a feral cat.

This was going to be fun.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑