Thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes, given here, or on FB, or in private messages. Although I’m not a celebrating type, your thoughts and comments are meaningful to me.
- Wore one of my favorite shirts yesterday. I bought it the year we moved to Ashland from Half Moon Bay, 2005. Shortly after moving up here in June, we went back down to the SF Bay area to address some issues, do some shopping, and visit with friends. We stopped in at an odd sale, where a convenience store on Middlefield had been converted to a sale of overstocked items. That’s where I found this shirt. It was bought on a hot day in July, 2005. As one of my favorites, I’ve been photographed in it at work and parties. I’m wearing it in this photo in 2010 with my little sister and her youngest daughter. I’m the one with the facial hair. I know, you can barely see the shirt.
- It’s always odd to me that Lee Greenwood lets Donald Trump use Greenwood’s song, “God Bless the U.S.A.”, at his events. The song has lines that refers to being free and the men who died for that right . Trump has denigrated many military members, past and present, in his speeches and remarks. He holds the statues of the Confederate States of America, which was a nation formed from states who broke away from the United States. After they broke away, they attacked the U.S.A., starting a war in which they killed many Americans. If that doesn’t say enemy and traitor, what does? Beyond that, the C.S.A was fighting a war to keep people enslaved. All of that is the antithesis of what Greenwood’s song is purported to be about. Yeah, makes me wonder. Yeah, me makes me sad and cynical, too.
- Ashland, the little town that I’ve staked out as home, cancelled July 4th fireworks and celebrations cause, COVID, masking, and social distancing. A few fireworks went off but I’m pleased that the town mostly observed it, making it the quietest July 4th in my memory. Meanwhile, we visited with friends in their gazebo, six feet apart and masked, except to eat cupcakes (still six feet apart or more) and consume root beer floats. We noted, though, two of the masks being used by others had valves. I thought they — the health experts — do not recommend masks with vales. One of the participants wore their mask above their mouth and another wore their mask below their nose. I didn’t call them out, the be respectful, but I stayed back, and we were outside. Made me sigh, though; why wear the mask if you’re not going to do it right?
- I’d welcomed July as a positive move, posting to friends, hey, don’t fear July just because the year has been a bit sucky so far this year. This might be the month it all begins turning around. Well, it was like 2020 said, hold my beer, as the next day, I read an article about the Chinese being worried about bubonic plague cases. A resurgence of the black death is all that we need, given how many in the U.S. dismiss the threat of COVID-19 as just another flu, a hoax or conspiracy, refusing to take precautions against the novel coronavirus. God knows what they’ll do if the black plague begins spreading.
- We watched Avengers: Endgame last night. Yeah, all three hours of it. Looonnnggg film. One, good thing we watched it at home, where we could pause it and take bio breaks, and where we could also google info. We were constantly wondering, “Okay, who is that character?” They brought them all back, and we’re not deeply invested in the MCU. After all the hype and reviews, I expected something better. Yes, I know, my cynicism (or my age) is showing. Some of the acting appearances were fun and surprising, but I liked Avengers: Infinity War, Guardians of the Galaxy, and Black Panther much better. To each, right?
Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more day.
Five Floof Electrical Band (floofinition) – Sometimes referred to as Five Floof as a nickname, the floof rock (flock) band was formed in Canada in 1969, and were active from 1969 to 1975.
In use: “Although the Five Floof Electrical Band had several hits in Canada, “Fleas” is the song that brings them the most recognition outside of Canada.”
My dreams are frequently an odd pastiche of events and activities. For this one, it was softball, celebrating, and, of course, drinking.
I was hosting a party. Wasn’t big, but intimate, perhaps six couples. My locale was a lovely home, the kind you dream about when you think about your special place, at once in a city but with privacy, space, and a yard.
I poured wine for friends as they were coming and going, visiting and chatting. Drank some wine, too, and went off and peed. A new guy arrived, my friend M, arrived. I haven’t seen M since I left Germany in 1991, but he and I communicated via Facebook for a while.
M had been a hot major league prospect for the Cincy Reds until he tore up his knees in an accident. As that was written done, he joined the Air Force. That’s how we connected. We played racquetball together. I was a damn good player; he was in several classes above me. Our schedules rarely worked out for us to play, but when it did, he sought me out. He probably won nine games out of ten, and they weren’t generally that close. I quizzed him a few times about why he played me and he always told me, “I enjoy your company and admire your hustle.”
We talked baseball and softball in the dream. Out of that brief conversation, we decided to form a team. M made some calls while I dug out gloves, balls, and bats. The balls were cubes. None of us found that unusual, except I noticed it. Where are the balls cubes, I asked myself with amusement.
Meanwhile, I served more wine, then made margaritas and served them. Guys began arriving to try out for our team. Women were there but declined to play. Basically M would hit a ball and see if the guy could catch it.
I was out there fielding first, and caught everything hit my way without issue. The next guy misjudged the deep fly to him. So did the next, but the ball came my way, so I caught it. As I transferred the cube to my hand to throw it in, another ball, a line drive was hit toward me. I caught it in my glove’s webbing.
Hurrying in, I dropped off the balls and then went in to make more drinks. Everyone wanted wine. There were multiple empty bottles. I decided I needed to open another bottle, but what should I open? All of my cheaper, casual drinking stuff had been consumed. Should I go with the more expensive offerings? Why not? They’d been purchased to drink, right? But even though, I had to decide which bottle.
I was leaning toward a red. As I pulled out bottles, I looked at labels and remembered where, when, and why they were purchased, but just couldn’t decide which bottle to open. I could hear my friends talking, wondering where I was, and then discussing that I was inside, opening another bottle.
That’s where the dream ended.
I was half asleep while attending something in the middle of the night. Was it a noise outside that awoke me, or a cat going through the pet door, or just something in my nervous system? Tag it with ‘things I’ll never know’.
But, momentarily awake (with Tucker licking my knuckles and purring) (did he wake me?), I drifted through fragmenting dream memories. Lyrics from “Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand” (Primitive Radio Gods, 1996) join the dream memories.
Am I alive or thoughts that drift away?
Does summer come for everyone?
Can humans do as prophets say?
And if I die before I learn to speak
Can money pay for all the days I lived awake
But half asleep?
h/t to Genius.com
The song is slight, mildly catchy in a hypnotic sort of way but I enjoy reflecting on the lyrics and their twists. What’s usually most memorable from this song for me is B.B. King singing, “I’ve been down-hearted, baby, ever since the day.”