You ever think about someone who passed, and realized that although you rarely saw them, they were an anchor, someone who moored the foundations of your life, and although little has physically changed in your life with their passing, everything is different, because one of your mooring anchors is gone?
Catlude
Catlude (catfinition) – secret agreement or cooperation between cats to deceive others.
In use: “The household felines catluded to have one of them awaken the sleeping humans, and then the others would clowder-rush the people and demand to be fed.”
“Plastics.”
“Plastics.”
Some of you will read that one word sentence and recognize the allusion to The Graduate. It comes to mind now as how accurate it was in the movie.
Plastics was said to be the future. The writers (novelist Charles Webb and screenwriters Buck Henry and Calder Willingham) were prescient. Plastics are everywhere, floating and polluting the oceans and other aspects of our environment, and is now found to be in bottled drinking water. What’s that mean to our health? The effects are being studied.
We’ll find out in the future, won’t we?
Thursday’s Theme Music
I dreamed last night that I was driving a convertible with the top down on an oceanside road. I was alone, and the weather was gorgeous. The road could been the stretch of Pacific Coast Highway between Big Sur and Carmel. I saw myself and the scene from different angles, like I was in a movie montage, but I don’t know what kind of car it was. No one else was seen in the dream, just me, happily driving. (Almost seems like a pretty metaphor for my writing process.) This song, “One of Us,” performed by Joan Osborn was playing on the car radio during this dream montage.
Cheers
Oops.
You ever approach your car in a parking lot and think, boy, I did a terrible job parking, and look at your car and think, man, it’s a lot dirtier than I realized, and then try to get into your car and discover —
Yeah. It’s not your car.
Happened to me yesterday. Meanwhile, friends told a Palo Alto tale involving two Priuses and a parking garage. One of the cars was their vehicle. They got in it, started it up, and began backing out.
The wife said, “Something’s wrong.” She looked around. “I don’t think this is our car.”
More looking around was conducted. They noticed a tissue box on the back seat.
Definitely not their car.
They pulled back into their spot, parked and exited. But, what the hell? Where was their car? They’d parked right here.
Actually, they’d parked two spots over. A large truck blocked their car from their sight during their approach. Some color and year, just a little different.
Michael Seidel, writer 