Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Tribfloof (floofinition) – Something given or contributed voluntarily to a housepet or animal as due or deserved.
In use: “Every morning, and whenever he came home, his rescue pup came to him for a few minutes of tribfloof, whispered reassurances, petting, and ear and neck scratches to remind the dog that everything was okay, that he had a home and wasn’t abandoned again.”
I was at a dinner, a fund-raiser featuring bids on wine and various gifts and donations, all to raise money to help expand cultural awareness and help people with the cost of higher education. I was chatting with a friend when the bidding was about to commence. He said, “Oh, time for me to fly,” and went off to bid.
Boom, here came REO Speedwagon’s 1978 song, “Time for Me to Fly”. The song is all about giving up on a relationship that hasn’t worked out, and then leaving. Naturally, my buddy thought of the leaving context, as in time to get to another place in a hurry. I’ve always thought of it more simplistically, as in time to spread my wings, do stuff, and get things done.
It’s all in the way that you look at it, hey?
My muses seem drunk today.
Picture this: it’s a party, mostly of strangers, maybe co-workers who’ve never socialized outside of the office. Everyone is subdued, withdrawn and watchful, spying on others from safe corners and walls. Then some alcohol enters the scene. Glasses are filled. Sips are indulged. Alcohol slips into the bloodstreams. All start loosening up and chatting away, becoming livelier.
The latter are my muses today. They’ve had a few. Now they’re giggling and flirting, throwing ideas at me like I’m a dart board, frequently scoring high marks. As the scenes, characters, and ideas hit, I urge them, “Slow down, slow down, I can’t keep up.” That only encourages the tipsy little buggers to offer more at a faster rate, feeding off one another.
Not complaining, just noting. It’s a lot better than those days when the stand statuesque to the sad, cold and contemptuous, offering little other than disdain.
Got my coffee. Time to heed the muses and write like crazy before they pass out.
Floofdominium (floofinition) – A building, room, or complex of rooms or flooftibules containing a number of individual boxes, baskets, and other containers occupied by housepets.
In use: “The family room was where all gathered, a floofdominium with recliner and television, where cats and dogs rested in beds and boxes while he binged on The Kominsky Method.”
Wash me in yellow
the bright color of hopeful change
spritz me with marigolds
press me to get out of my lane
Soak me in yella
optimism and light
help me see past the madness and badness
and pursue what’s right
Drown me in yeller
make it an ocean of chance
a place where all are happy
and there’s singing and dance
Coat me in yellow
let it cover me all
like dazzling leaves on a tree
in the bright sunshine of fall
My monthly cycle is on the upswing. Love it when that happens. Much better than the dark troughs.
Dark days come once a month. I call it monthly but, you know, it’s a few days shorter than that, just a time when my optimism surrenders to my pessimism, and discouragement bludgeons encouragement into despair. During the worse of them, I’m in an echo chamber asking myself, “What’s the use? Is there a point to any of this crap?”
But today, it’s a triple high. Discouragement runs away, pessimism flees, and optimism and hope take office on high, declaring, “Everything is going GREAT.”
In honor of this monthly mini-holiday, Peter Gabriel’s 1987 song, “Big Time”, has entered the stream.
Big Time, I’m on my way I’m making it, big time, Huh!
Big time, I’ve got to make it show yeah, big time
Big time, so much larger than life
Big time, I’m gonna watch it growing, big time
Big time, my car is getting bigger Big time, my house is getting bigger
Big time, my eyes are getting bigger
and my mouth
Big time, my belly’s getting bigger
Big time, and my bank account
Big time, look at my circumstance
Big time, and the bulge in my big big big big big big big big big big big big big big big, hi there
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Michael Seidel, writer 