Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Alterfloof (floofinition) – 1. Housepet or animal with more than one personality. 2. An animal or housepet who originated in another universe. 3. Slang for an otherworldly behaving housepet.
In use: “Sometimes Maxine could be terrifying. She was an alterfloof, frequently cuddling and sweet, but then suddenly growling and baring her teeth at everyone, spreading fright through the household. No one knew what caused the shifts.”
Floofzilla (floofinition) – 1. An animal that is much larger than average. 2. A housepet or animal that terrorizes others or is particularly adept at mass destruction. 3. Mythical pet that is cited as being responsible for the destruction of many ancient civilizations, including Timflooftu.
In use: “At six weeks old, the puppy transformed into floofzilla, wreaking havoc with towels, curtains, pillows, and toilet paper rolls.”
Headfloof (floofinition) – 1. Animal that’s in charge. 2. An animal, especially a housepet, who likes to sit on people’s heads. 3. Housepet who enjoys messing with people’s minds.
In use: “Rocky was a headfloof, which was cute when he was tiny, but by the time he weighed more than ten pounds, his habit of jumping on your head was a pain in the neck.”
We saw the light
and thought it was fire,
held in glass
strung by a wire.
We smelled the smoke
and thought it was grass,
we felt lit
and fell on our ass.
We heard a song
and thought it was love,
we tasted tears
and thought it was salt.
We saw the light
but it was too far away.
We said, “Let’s start tomorrow.”
But tomorrow never came.
I lost you,
you found me,
kicking in the door
that I tried to seal.
Dancing on dreams,
living on smoke,
pennies away
from always being broke.
The crystal was fine,
but we drew lines,
toking on what was right,
and what should be denied.
Never agreeing
in sounds too soft to hear,
straining for space
when we tried to get near.
Blinded by lights
that could’ve been love or hate,
we made our way past others,
knowing too much too little
too late.
Sitting in the chasm between writing projects, dealing with submissions, hunting for acceptance, stamping on depression, and resisting regression. I walk along on slippery wet leaves, gold and red, fallen from trees, I hunt the moment and a song, something to sing to take me along.
I depend on music like I depend on coffee, computers, and the net, soft addictions to deal with what’s left, and what I hope to do and be, striving to leave a little self to the world’s history.
Into the mind stream jumps the Kinks, squeezing alongside Tom Petty, Bob Dylan, and snippets of other song links, taking me back to decades gone, sometimes to people and selves where I felt like I more belonged. I offer you a fantasy, a song to help you escape, “A Rock and Roll Fantasy” from nineteen seventy-eight, a time when we had more hope and direction, and people weren’t warning us about civil war, strife, and sedition.
More coffee, stat.
Michael Seidel, writer 