Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Poofloof (catfinition) – (slang) a feline with feces on them (due to multiple reasons, from poor hygiene and long fur to illness). Synonyms: pootail, stinkytail, stinkyfloof, smelly cat
In use: “The smell struck before she saw Sylvester. Rising, she said, “Where are you, you little poofloof?” Being a small cat, with long, silky fur, he frequently had this issue. Seeing him, she picked him up and headed for the bathroom to wash him off.”
I flip
you flip
we all flip
for catnip!
I heard “I’m A Man” by the Spencer Davis Group, but the Chicago cover (when the band’s name was still Chicago Transit Authority) is my preferred version. I have a fond memory of being sixteen. I was at a friend’s place with several others. We had the lights low, and were smoking some grass, drinking beer, and listening to “I’m A Man” cranked up. That opening bass begins, and then drums rise and other instruments join and build tension.
Ah, fond memory.
Floofvenile (catfinition) – a young cat; (slang) an immature cat.
In use: “With the antics she played on the dogs, the theft of clothes from nearby houses, and her feet-ambushes, the small tabby may have been nine, but she was a floofvenile delinquent.”
“I love hot showers,” he said. “They’re my second most favorite thing, right behind pizza, cold beer, hot coffee, lemon meringue pie, watermelon, grilled steak, the beach, and the fourth of July.”
His wife said, “Where am I on that list?”
He said, “I’ll get back to you.”
This was another song (aren’t many of them?) that prompted me to ask, “What are they singing?” This was P.I. (Pre-Internet), when the means of learning a song’s lyrics were more challenging today. (Cue old curmudgeon mode: “These kids today don’t know how good they have it,” except, of course, worries about getting shot in school, or being black and stopped by police.)
Sorry for the detour. When I heard Tool’s song, “Sober”, in 1992, I could clearly make out some lyrics. Others made little sense. Then, when I finally learned them all, I confirmed, the phrases and words aren’t necessarily the logical poetry of seeing a flower or a tree, or being a cloud. The person in the song was angry, frustrated, and confused, trying to understand themselves and why they do things, and sometimes asking for help to overcome their urges and needs. These are things many people face, but can’t fully articulate. This song, backed up by sharp, bitter guitar notes, expresses it better than most people can.
Powerful song. Not much for dancing, mind you.
Philea didn’t let me down again today. Her voice remains as clear as glacier fresh filtered water. My only involvement was as typist to catch the words as they shot out. It was lovely and astonishing witnessing her character evolve through these chapters. She re-adjusted what she knew of herself and the situation, made new assessments and decisions, and re-discovered her courage, strength, and commitment.
Of course, the story turned corners that were blind to me until I turned them. So the novel and series moves forward, word by word, at what feels like a mincing pace because there’s so much to see, hear, find, and share. But when I step back and take in the entire picture, its breadth and depth surprises me. It’s like walking on a beach, and stopping to see where you are, and confronting the enormity of the ocean’s sound and power.
Great day of writing like crazy. On to other endeavors.
Michael Seidel, writer 