Having Fun

I’m having fun with my writing these days. I usually have fun but some days become more challenging and wearying.

Not so now. Still typing with one hand so I hunt and peck across the keyboard and through the story. Six hundred words a day is usually the sum of two hours of effort. My biggest typing issue is that my finger often finds the ‘y’ when I’m seeking the ‘t’.

The characters’ voices are strong and clear. I’m infatuated with the concept. Variations on it delight me as they spool out. Abetted by slow typing, I’m taking my time developing the story and building the plot.

It’s clear to me that I’m riding toward the peak of my up and down cycles. Dreams have been empowering, inspiring, energizing, and enabling, exhorting me to be positive and to not despair. It’s a pleasure when your subconscious becomes a supporter instead of a saboteur.

Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

Floofbutt

Floofbutt (floofinition) (Web slang) Affectionate term employed to speak derisively of animals or chide them, especially pets.

In use: “She’d only recently learned that her cat, Charlie, was a two-timing floofbutt, going to a neighbor’s house to eat and sleep, and hang out with their cat.”

Floof, Wind & Fire

Floof, Wind & Fire (floofinition) – Frequently described as one of the most innovative and commercially successful musical floof acts of all time, Floof, Wind & Fire is an American floof band was formed in 1970. Coordinating and infusing elements of smooth jazz, funk, F&B, floof funk (flunk), floof pop (floop), and dance, they won multiple Floofies and sold almost 100 million albums.

In use: “Released in 1970. “Shining Floof” became Floof, Wind & Fire’s first number one song.”

Visiting With My Cats

I visit with my cats several times a day. They demand. Scratches are required. I’m either going to give them, or I’m going to get them. I better do it right, too.

Tucker is the house alpha cat. A street rescue who was probably left behind when his people moved, he used to love fighting the other cats and imposing his will. Remembering this, they’re now wary of him in the same way that Americans are wary of Russians because they used to be the Soviets.

The Soviets would be a good name for a punk band.

Tucker has changed, though. The others don’t realize it. Tucker has come to understand that I disapprove of him stalking and ambushing the others, so he’s stopped. I know because I watch. The other cats don’t know he’s there. He gives them a look, but then I see him reining himself in.

The three boys are interesting regarding people. Whatever their pasts (all are rescues), Boo and Papi (aka Meep) want nothing to do with anyone except my wife and me. People come to the front door, they go out the pet door in the back. When a Zoom call takes place, those two shake their heads. “Nope. Too many people. I don’t know who they are, and I don’t want to find out.” Out they go. The fact they can’t see the people seems to make it worse.

“Invisible people,” they say. “Who needs that?”

Tucker, though, makes the rounds. “Hello, hi, hey, how you doing?” He joins the Zoom sessions like he’s been invited by name.

All three love it when a cupboard or closet door opens. Eyes on one another, they hurry over to peer in. “Is it Narnia? No? Where’s it go? Is there anything to eat?”

Although they love being my shadow (Tucker is right beside my laptop right now), they usually sleep through the day. They often change positions and locations. Being a doting floof father, I check on them. Sometimes their sleep seems so deep that I worry, “Are they alive?” I watch for breathing, then an ear moves, and I’m reassured. If I’m really worried, I open a can of food.

That always wakes them.

 

Today’s Theme Music

Most people eventually come to a yield sign on their personal roads that causes them to say to themselves, “Hey, I’ve grown old.”

For me, it’s always funny and sad, a dark humor time where you laugh at the inevitably and sadness. Part of the epiphany sometimes comes with or from chatting with young people or watching media aimed at them; you each vaguely know something of the other’s slice of culture but it’s otherwise a little bizarre. You each can’t believe what they don’t know.

I always thought that Steely Dan’s “Hey Nineteen” captures some of that bewilderment and amusement. A song from 1980, it came to me today as a response to a look from my wife. I made a throwaway comment as we passed in the dining room. She, busy with her thoughts, graced me with a befuddled grace that made me laugh. Though the wife is but one year younger, my brain brought out the Steely Dan line, “She thinks I’m crazy but I’m just growing old.”

It’s really neither, craziness or growing old. I had my writing head on. The world spins a little differently from a writer’s perspective. Events are oddly wired (well, wired in ways writers and other artists see that remains opaque to the rest) and the world’s tilt is canted in a different way.

Anyway. To the music. It’s a little mellow, soft rock with a jazz infusion. Give it a listen.

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