Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Ever catch yourself ranting and raving at others for their behavior, like their driving or the speed of their walk, as though they have full and absolute control over themselves, and realize that your ranting and raving is a demonstration of the small measure of control over yourself?
No? Is it just me, then?
Damn.
Floofection (catfinition) – refreshment of mind, body, and spirit delivered by a cat’s companionship.
In use: “Returning from a weary day concerned with products, dollars, and cents, he found floofection in a few minutes of stroking Tabitha’s fur and listening to her purr.”
I took an unplanned writing break. One of those things called death interrupted the usual progression.
A family member died. It was expected, sooner or later. The sooner seemed to be getting closer but it came as a surprise. She’d been hospitalized with flu, pneumonia, congested heart and lungs, things complicated by her Parkinson’s disease. We were originally certain, this might be it, but that morning the doctors said, “Hey, she’s doing better. She can probably leave the hospital in two or three days.” They were wrong. She left that day, but she was no longer alive.
I shut down the writing component in my brain. I know this about myself: the writing component demands a lot of energy. It puts me in another place, but removes me from the moment. Being removed from the moment means that my patience and empathy become compromised. That wouldn’t do. So, shut it down, I ordered.
The writing component was kept shut down for three days. I was given writing time but chose not to indulge it. I knew what it would mean. I took the time to think of life and other matters instead of writing.
What I didn’t expect were the side-effects. I slept miserably, tossing and turning way more than the usual. I also didn’t dream, or didn’t recall any dreams, and I seemed a lot hungrier. I never felt rested.
I imagined the chemical and physiological reasons probably contributing to my side-effects. The drugs my body releases through the creative process and writing. The highs achieved, the flow of neurotransmitters and their interactions, and why writing is an addiction.
I kept the writing component off until today. Notifications of the death are completed. Grieving has commenced and progressed. Funeral and burial arrangements have been made.
When I turned the writing component back on, it was a deluge. Whoomp. I was slammed with words and thoughts to write.
Interesting experience. Fascinating, to me, at least. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
Ever hear about others’ success and feel that green-eyed monster called jealousy choking you? Yeah, it happens to me. Made me think of the Black Crowes’ song, “Jealous Again.” Released in 1990, I picked the album up after coming back to America in 1991. I have a Sony two hundred CD player. The player divides the CD into eight sections. I set one section aside as part of my current hits catalog. It was a good section, and I enjoyed putting it on shuffle while I worked and fooled around in the house. I enjoy this particular song because it features a throwback sound to me, like something out of the late sixties or early seventies on the pop rock side of music. Good song to sing as you wonder about and ponder life.
You ever get in a strange car, like a rental car, to drive it, and keep adjusting the seat because somehow, your body and that seat just aren’t having a meeting of minds?
Yeah, that can be a pain.
Ever have one of those people in your life that must tell something about themselves to top whatever is going on? Someone is sick and hospitalized, and they’re sicker, and should be in the hospital. Misfortune falls on another? That’s nothing, you should hear how bad they suffered. It gets to the point that you don’t know what to believe of them. Then, when something bad happens, you feel bad because you didn’t believe them.
It reminds me of that old comedy routine.
“You had a house? We lived in a box on the street.”
“I wish we had a box. We lived in a pile of old newspapers.”
“Newspapers? You were lucky. We held paper towels up around us and pretended they were a house.”
“Pretended? You were lucky. We were only eating once a week. We didn’t have enough energy to pretend anything.”
“You ate once a week? You were lucky. I don’t know what I would have done, eating that many times in a month.”
“Those were the days.”
“Yeah, they sure were.”
Know what I mean?
Thinking about music, I know some music because it pervaded popular culture and the American music, television, and movies. That said….
Ever reach that point where you shout, “Enough is enough!” Then you vow to change things. Change hopefully arises from that determination. As deaths, revelations, and accusations flew after last week’s high school mass murders, this song sprang into my music stream. Two great singers and performers, Donna Summer and Barbra Streisand combined to sing “No More Tears (Enough is Enough)” in 1979, during the peak of the disco phenomena. It starts as a slow ballad, but then erupts into a defiant stance.
I admit, I cringed a little, listening to this. Disco just isn’t my thing. Sorry.
Floofcile (catfinition) – a companionable cat; flooftable.
In use: “In the course of a single week, the cat progressed from being a feral terror to a floofcile lap-bug.”
Floofgitive (catfinition) – a cat intending to run away; an elusive cat.
In use: “Seeing the sweeper enter the room, Quinn embraced full floofgitive mode.”
REO Speedwagon’s Hi Infidelity album was big news when we arrived to serve at Kadena AB, Okinawa, Japan, in 1981. I’d written about that album and a few of their songs off that album before.
REO had been around awhile, and I’d like some of their earlier music, so their success pleased me. This song, “Roll With the Changes,” was one of their earlier songs that I enjoyed. First, it’s from the album, You Can Tune a Piano, but You Can’t Tuna Fish. Yeah, silly title, but it appealed to my silly nature.
The refrain from that song, though, “Keep on rolling,” became one of my personal battle cries as things happened in the military and in my life. Yeah, shit happens, but keep on rolling. Adapt and adjust, and keep on rolling. Short story submitted and rejected? Keep on rolling. Mission issues? Keep on rolling. Typhoon? Keep on rolling. Writer’s block?
You get the idea.
Michael Seidel, writer 