Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofstrophedon (floofinition) – housepets sleeping in alternate lines while facing in opposite directions.
In use: “Arriving home after leaving work early, he discovered his cats and dogs sleeping in a floofstrophedon on the master bed, and wondered if this was what they did when he was at work.”
I was reading about the militias heading south to the border to meet the caravan. Some had already arrived in a few towns, where the people were confused about why the militia were. People interviewed in those towns felt that the caravan issue and illegal immigrant issues were being overblown. Of course that may be a result of what I read, and not the truth.
All of that paramilitary talk reminded me of how volatile the UK was for so long, which triggered memories of an old Sex Pistols’ song, “Anarchy in the U.K.” (1976). The song contains chunks of initials. When I first heard it, the meanings behind the initials were a mystery. The press took it up and gave us explanations that it was about the paramilitary groups, primarily Irish, that were for and against the British.
It all provides some hope that if the UK can survive, maybe America can as well. Well, honestly America will survive. It’s a question of what form it’ll have in the future, whether it’ll be fifty states or several republics, a dictatorship or some other form of government. Inherent in that question are the greater questions of equality, freedom, and the environment.
Let’s rock.
Part of a large organization, we were gathered at a complex. Whether chosen or a volunteer, I was competing with three other males for a prestigious role. I don’t know anything about the role now, but in the dream, I was excited and flattered to be part of this as I went about preparing.
The competition ahead would be taxing. Preparation involved physical and intelligence training. I knew I’d need to be calm, poised, aware in multiple ways, and proactive. My energy never flagged, and my confidence increased as I trained. I met other people, who cheered me on. As the dream progressed, I realized that people were seeking me out. I began sensing that I was the favorite to win, which bolstered my confidence and energy.
Then, partway through, I noticed an odd shadow. The shadow looked like a bear with a giant erection. While laughing at this because I was doubtful about what I thought I saw, I turned on some lights and discovered it was a confluence of objects that created a silhouette, not a shadow, that looked like a bear with an erection. Amused, I decided I needed to tell the other contestants and the organizers so others would know and not be frightened or worried. After I did this and explained why, I ran into a person who’d seen it and was frightened. Assuring her it was nothing to fear, I took her back and turned on the lights.
“See?” I said. “It’s nothing to fear.”
The dream ended.
It’s been three joyous writing (and editing) days. Having one such day always energizes and intoxicates me. Returning to life’s normal routines and patterns afterward is deflating.
But then, coupling three days together feeds the highs, giving me a sensation of feeling invincible and omnipotent. It’s empowering but frightening because it must be kept in context for what it is.
That energy can’t help but spill over into other things. It stirs something that’s deeper and more primal in me. The short and long of it is that I’m accomplishing, creating something tangible from my mind’s energy and my physical exertion, and that is rewarding. I set a goal, and I’m working toward accomplishing that goal. When successful progress and its accompanying energy continues over three days, this sense parlays into a belief that I can do anything, because, hey, look how good the writing and editing is progressing. Woo-hoo.
Common sense helps ground me. Writing (and editing) and the rest of life aren’t the same. Thinking of this reminds me of some hotel chain’s commercials. They went along the lines of, “Let me operate.”
“You’re a doctor?”
“No, but I got a great night of rest.”
It’s all about how you feel, and the self-confidence that it stirs. I think the chain was Holiday Inn Express.
Meanwhile, however, some of my mind views all this with deep suspicion. “Maybe you’re fooling yourself,” at least one advisor whispers. “You’re probably not that good.”
It’s an amusing proposition because it demands that I hold two contrary ideas in mind, that I am that good, and that I’m not that good. Parts of my writing is probably amazing, and parts are probably crap. This is a draft, and I’m the writer, and I wrote it for me, so if I enjoy it as a reader, mission accomplished. It’s natural that others will dislike it, not get it, enjoy it or not, decide that it’s, “Okay,” (shudder), or love it. None of that’s within my control except that I wrote it for me, and I enjoy it.
Am I conning myself? You bet! But I think I’m also being realistic. I know, too, that I’ll probably encounter days when I feel sick about reading what I wrote because it needs a lot of work.
Accepting that I must stop now is a reluctant choice. I love the immersion of writing and editing my novels. I know myself, though, and my writing process, and its capricious nature. I know that going out on a high helps sustain progress because I feed off expectations created by past success. It at least makes it easier to get to the document the next day.
So, sadly, but joyously, time to stop writing editing like crazy, one more time.
Floofonality (floofinition) – a housepet’s combination of mannerisms and or qualities that establish their distinctive character.
In use: “Charlie was one cat, but with silver-stripped tiger tabby’s floofonality made his people swear he was more than one gato. He certaintly ate like more than one cat.”
I started this morning by streaming some old ELP, “Welcome back my friends, to the show that never ends, we’re so glad you could attend, come inside, come inside.” Any ELP fan recognizes that opening from one of the Brain Salad Surgery “Karn Evil 9 Impressions” (1973).
But the stream drifted, bringing in “Still…You Turn Me On” from the album. I also enjoy thinking about the song’s enigmatic lyrics. It’s like they’re singing about trying to understand someone, and failing while guessing at who they are, and despite that, being attracted to them.
Many of us find ourselves in like situations in life, trying to understand others, and sometimes loving or hating them for reasons that we can’t explain.
I’ve been dreaming, but most of it’s been the standard surviving storms, climbing mountains, and flying stuff. This dream last night was odd, so I thought it worth thinking more about, which translates to writing about it.
I was creating a greeting card. Nothing special about that. It’s something that I’ve done off and on on computers for decades. In this one, though, I was creating a greeting card with the outline of Oregon on the cover. It was a cut-out showing a photo of me with my wife.
Trying to figure out what should go inside, I realized I didn’t know the card’s expected recipient. Closing it to think, I looked at the card’s front and saw that I’d printed, “Wish you were here.” I realized the photo was of us when we were younger.
That made me laugh. Someone was calling me (off dream, if you will). I said, “Just a minute. I’m not done.”
Then, looking at the card, I thought, that could be the basis for a clever line of cards.
End dream.
I woke up smiling.
It happened on a Monday
I thought it was a Sunday
not the change I sought
When it came Thursday
it was supposed to be Tuesday
the man told me, that’s what I’d bought
I hunted Friday and found Saturday
a tattered day if I ever knew one
So I hung onto Wednesday
the only real friendly day
drunk like another day doesn’t matter.
Michael Seidel, writer 