It’s like pole day at Indy out there.
Drivers are trying to cut corners to shave milliseconds off their errands, their mind on their lists as they try to save time while doing the things needed for them to enjoy the holidays.
Thursday’s Theme Music
Today’s theme music is a courtesy of Don Henley and Mike Campbell. The song is, “The Boys of Summer.”
This song, with lyrics like, “I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac,” about looking back and change, and coping with it. I’m a person that looks back a great deal. I’m not obsessed with it, but looking back helps me re-imagine where I’m going. It’s one of those arrows of time. Looking back helps me keep straight.
A little voice inside my head said, “Don’t look back. You can never look back.”
I thought I knew what love was,
What did I know?
Those days are gone forever,
I should just let them go, but-
Today’s technology encourages looking back. I can watch movies that star actors that died, leading me to wonder, are they still alive? I can check a friend’s post, even though he died a few years ago, and replay movies, television shows, and interviews from the past, and pretend that past is today, or yesterday, although it was created decades ago.
It’s nostalgia, isn’t it? It is for me. Television, pop and rock music, and movies were part of my scenes as I grew up. Songs come on and take me back to a happier moment, as do smells, and touches. I like going back there; I like feeling happy.
There are fewer happier moments today. Experiences temper my expectations, and I’ve become jaded. It could be from looking back, or simply being cursed with too much ability to recall times and events. It’s part of who I am, so I don’t decry it.
Well, maybe I decry it a little, because that’s who I am, as well.
Skipped
Has your mind ever skipped a day, so that you think it’s the next day, and you’re trying to do your activities based on the wrong day?
Yeah, that blows, doesn’t it? I never feel properly synchronized when that happens.
Flooflified
Flooflified (catfinition) – to modify or change the form or qualities of something so that it suits a cat; changes a cat makes to make itself more comfortable and contented.
Misread
Don’t you hate it when you misread something? I misread a blurb tonight as, “Plant emails isotope.” Really baffled. Was it Robert Plant? Why was Plant emailing an isotope? Hell, how would someone email an isotope? Totally baffling until my mind made the correction: “Plant emits isotope.”
Makes more sense, but it’s a bit more worrisome, unless Plant was emailing the isotope to me. That’d be an interesting conversation. “Got an email from Robert Plant.” “The guy from Led Zeppelin?” “I guess. He sent me an isotope.” “Wait, what?”
Michael Seidel, writer 