Question Floof and the Floofsterians

Question Floof and the Floofsterians (floofinition) – American garage floof rock (flock) band originally formed in Floofinaw, Michigan, active in the 1960s.

In use: “Question Floof and the Floofsterians created a hit with “Ninety-six Hairs” but failed to significantly chart again, earning them one-hit wonder status.”

Wednesday’s Theme Music

After waking up and getting up, songs filter in and out of my cogent stream. With a little surprise, I put together their identities:

“One” by U2 and “One” by Three Dog Night, “I’m the Only One” by Melissa Ethridge, “One” by Metallica, “Still the One” by Orleans, “I’m One” by the Who. Another one song, “She’s the One” by Bruce Springsteen finishes the list.


It becomes a quietly amusing background thinking game as I do other things, wondering why songs focused on one are in my mental stream. Not necessarily new; my mind has done this to me with other topics. But I can usually pinpoint the root. It’s different today, as I don’t know what’s kicking one into the stream.

I also wonder, why those songs, and not other songs with one in them. Or maybe other songs with one played in my head but I forgot.

Oh, well. After all that, I settled on a Wallflowers favorite from 1997, “One Headlight”. That’s today’s theme music.

So long ago I don’t remember when
that’s when they said I lost my only friend
they said she died easy of a broke heart disease
as I listened through the cemetary trees

I seen the sun comin’ up at the funeral at dawn
with the long broken arm of human law
now it always seemed such a waste
she always had a pretty face
I wondered why she hung around this place

come on try a little
nothing is forever
there’s got to be something better than in the middle
me and cinderella
put it all together
we could drive it home
with one headlight

h/t to

The Wealthy Friend Dream

I dreamed I had a wealthy friend. We were both young men. He came from a wealthy family, and I was lower middle class.

But he was friendly and generous, insisting that I take his car. His car was white; sleek and flat, it looked like a clam. It doesn’t relate to any car I’ve known in real life, but in the dream world, I knew it was rare and worth several million dollars. Dangling the white square on a chain that that was the key, he kept telling me, “Take my car, use it.” I was reluctant because of its price but because I also knew it was his father’s car.

Eventually, though, I accepted. The doors were gullwing type (as seen on the MB 300 SL coupe back in the 50s and early 60s, or the later Bricklin or Delorean). I entered. The luxurious, tech-loaded interior entranced me. Driving it was amazing. Silent and powerful, everything was effortless — and it literally flew. A press of the button took it over the traffic. Amazing.

I returned to his home. He insisted that I use the car. His mother, too, who told me, “Use it whenever you want.” Okay.

Meanwhile, they wanted to feed me. Not wanting to be seen as a moocher, I declined.

Spin the dream world. I’m now in school in a creative writing class. It’s packed. I’m new to the class and a bit withdrawn and introspective, as I tend to be.

The female instructor tells us some rules, then announces that someone has died. We all react with surprise and grief. A collection for flowers is being taken up. I go up to make a donation.

I plan to donate twenty dollars. Second thoughts strike because it’s almost all I have. The twenty-dollar bill is in my hand. The collection jar is on another male student’s desk, as it was passed over to him. He and a female student are collecting and coordinating the donations. I realize, though, that the male student seems to be pocketing some of the money. I’m not sure. decide, though, to just give ten dollars, as I’ve seen others do. Seeing a ten in the pile of money beside the jar, I attempt to surreptitiously get it and put my twenty in. The woman does something, though, and knocks the jar over. It doesn’t break, but the money is a mess and it draws unwanted attention.

Dream ends.

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