Efloof (catfinition) – an elite feline that’s permitted greater privileges and latitude than other felines.
In use: “Being the only cat in the household afforded Flash efloof status as her charming antics earned her human’s permissiveness.”
Margaret Said
I think this sentiment distills the essence of writing down to the basics. Just keep going past doubts, hopes, and word counts until you’ve found the beginning and the end.
Size Matters
You ever buy a package of food, and read their claim on the package that it contains two point five servings in it? So you look at it, and think, “No way. That barely has enough in it for me.” You ever do that?
Yeah, what kind of con are they trying to pull on us?
Saturday’s Theme Music
I’ve always enjoyed this song’s beginning. A chorus, a softly strumming acoustic guitar, and then a gentle French horn, each remarkable by themselves but coming together to set you up in an introspective mood.
When I first heard it, I thought, “Is that a French horn? Who is playing it?” Because a French horn isn’t part of the Rolling Stones’ typical composition. Later, there’s organ and piano, and wondered, “Who is on those?” I learned it was Al Kooper on them, along with the French horn. Pretty cool.
The song is, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” a well-known Rolling Stones song from that terrific album, Let It Bleed. I like the song’s story-telling style, how it touches on different political and social elements of that period, rising rises from a reflection on a female addict into a rousing anthem for rebellion and struggle.
You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You just might find
You get what you need
It’s a stirring rallying cry: try, and you might find that you get what you need, and it may not be what you thought it was.
Wickedly Aggressive
You ever been writing and catch fire? The words blaze through you and onto the page, forcing you to do your best to keep up. It’s an exhausting but exuberant process, oddly like scoring a touchdown or do something else that requires focus, attention, and energy.
Then you stop writing to attend to the mundane requirements of life, but the writing doesn’t stop. It keeps flowing. Changing metaphors, it’s like rivers overflowing its banks, flooding you with more of the story that you’re writing. Great, but so damn distracting, because it’s consuming your energy, removing you from normal conversations and interactions. You become short-tempered and irritated with others because your energy is pouring into the writing pouring into you.
And then, it won’t stop at the day’s end. Your body and brain are ready for sleep, but the writing continues in your mind, refusing to be stopped.
I’m not complaining, though, just pointing out that sometimes, those muses can be wickedly aggressive.
Okay, time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
Madeleine Said
Exactly how I often feel.
Overheard 3
“I was in my Mom’s room with my sister when Mom died. Mom and Dad lived in a remote area, surrounded by cedars. It was quiet. Mom had been ready to die. She’d actually done checklists. She’d written pages of very precise notes that she wanted done before she died. My sister and I had to do these things, and check them off, and show them to her, to show her that they’d been done.
“When they were all done, Mom said, “Okay, I’m ready to go now.” And she died that day.
“And I remember sitting in the room, and watching this soft blue glow rise from her body and drift out the window, and up into the trees, and on into the sky. It was like watching a puff of smoke, but I’m sure it was her soul.
“When it was gone, I turned to my sister and said, “Did you see that?” She said, “No, but I wish I did, because I could see you watching it.””
Overheard 2
“It says it should be stored in a cold, dry place. I know of one, but I don’t think my wife would appreciate being referred to as a place.”
Oh, snap (to employ an outdated phrase).
Overheard 1
“How do you a bathroom open house?”
Silence answered, followed by gales of charming laughter.
So sweet.
Friday’s Theme Music
Although this song is about a man’s relationship with a woman, I often thought of it in conjunction with my employers. “I have become cumbersome to this job.” Hah. Or, they’d become cumbersome to me. As the song says, walls were being built. And sometimes, I thought, despite the balance, this job experience has become cumbersome.
Here’s Seven Mary Three with “Cumbersome,” 1994.
Michael Seidel, writer 