Month: October 2020

The New Reads

This week’s reading list:

The Dome by Suzanne Craig-Whytock

The Memory Police by Yōko Ogawa

A Death of No Importance by Mariah Fredericks

Golden Son by Pierce Brown

Great to have a new stack of books to occupy me. All are fiction. Now to carve some time to read them! I think I can, as I’ve received my ballot and will voting this week, freeing me from researching issues. (We vote by mail in Oregon; that’s the way it’s done.) Three of the books are from the library books, so the clock is running, but the one that isn’t a library book, The Dome, is calling me. I’ll begin there. Its premise sounds enticing and it’s a smaller book. After the giant Tombland last week (eight hundred pages), I want something smaller.

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Tuesday’s Trivia

Politics and books took over my bandwidth last week.

  1. Books are such time thieves. Writing them takes time, energy, and attention. With energy, I’m referring to intellectual, emotional, and physical energy. The effort absorbs everything. Don’t know if that’s true for other writers, but this is how it is for me.
  2. Reading books also sucks away time and energy. I read a C.J. Sanson novel last week, Tombland. Tombland isn’t a small novel, registering at eight hundred packed pages. The latest in the Matthew Shardlake series, like the other novels, I was compelled to read, almost as if I’d been cursed. The mystery is relatively thin but that is incidental to the history, period, and characters. His voice is authentic, and the characters are alive and shifting. You feel it all.
  3. But reading that book meant I was doing almost nothing else. It was that consuming. I was also trying to read it to return it to the library. It was due 10/22, but I had other books on hold. My wife also had library books to return (The Plover, and The House in the Cerulean Sea). (She’d read Tombland before me.) So I was pushing to finish to turn the books in, limiting our library visits and its potential COVID-19 exposure. They do a good job at the library, but exposure is exposure, right? Right. After returning Tombland, I returned home and had an email from the library system: they’d extended Tombland for me. Nice of them but unnecessary.
  4. I recommend Tombland. This particular novel swirled around murders in Norfolk in 1549. Somerset was the Lord Protector for the young king. It being England and that era, politics around rights for the common people the Kett Rebellion, differences in the church (Protestants vs. Catholics), power struggles among lords and ladies (including Edward’s sisters), and enclosures – fencing off common land that set aside for animal crazy. All the sinister and cynical conniving among the wealthy to increase their power and wealth, and their attitude toward the lower classes, and the subservience expected from the upper classes strikes amazing similarities to what’s happening in the United States in this century.
  5. Tombland was a fresh reminder of what England endured and how they prevailed and developed as a democracy. Turmoil and bloodshed are occurring in the U.S., but not at the levels seen in England at that time. I want to add, yet. It may come to that.
  6. The monstrous poverty and homelessness of the era also brought out sharp comparisons to here and now in America. It provided rich fodder for heavy thinking.
  7. Of course, reading a book that I enjoy helps inform the novel that I’m writing. Nothing I read made me want to tear up my manuscript (or delete it) or start anew. It did inspire nuances and new flavors to fold into the blend, and of course, fuel up the need to sit down and write.
  8. The skunk and I (and my wife) continue our non-violent confrontation. I don’t want the skunk to go under the house to live; the skunk wants to. I’m not a violent person, and love animals. Watching the skunk (and studying it through the window as it emerges at night) gives more appreciation to who it is. Yet, I know it’s damaging our foundation, insulation, and weather barrier. I empathize with the little critter, though. It’s a tough life out there, and it’s only trying to exist as I’m trying to exist. It certainly has the same rights as me.
  9. I blame some of my sympathy to the skunk to the Netflix documentary, My Octopus Teacher. A wonderful love story, it revealed standard details the octopus and its tough existence. Naturally, after watching it, I transferred the octopus’ struggles to ‘my’ skunk. There is a difference between the octopus and skunk: the octopus isn’t invading ‘my’ territory. Anyone can argue, the skunks were there first, and that I’m the trespasser. I know; that doesn’t make my job dealing with the skunk any easier.
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The Spencer Floof Group

The Spencer Floof Group (floofinition) – Floof pop (floop)/rock (flock) band formed by the late Spencer Floof in 1963. The band broke up in the late sixties but was formed again several times.

In use: “The Spencer Floof Group had several major hits, including, “I’m A Floof” and “Gimme Some Tuna” in the 1960s.”

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Floofporium

Floofporium (floofinition) – A retail establishment focused on serving animals and their needs.

In use: “Although pet stores have evolved, and department stores like Target cater to pet owners with a few aisles of goods, more dedicated pet-owners love going to the floofporium, where its extensive array of offerings fit every budget and need. Unfortunately for many, animals must give people a pass to give them entry to this exclusive establishment. Although pets are usually willing to take their owners to the the floofporium – they would, after all, benefit as well – most people can’t understand their animal’s language. To them, it’s all just noise.”

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

A dozen dreams and a dozen songs rock my mind’s caverns and cesspools this morning. Mostly old songs because I’m in the realm of being an old guy. Whether you’re old depends on not just your attitude but also your scale. When you’re twenty, fifty seems old. At sixty-four, I don’t feel/seem young to myself. I’m sure advertisers have a different opinion about it, as do people who are thirty years plus younger, right?

I’m reminded of my mother when I think of age. When she was in her late seventies, she and her fiancée (who was in his early eighties) often went out dancing. They especially loved the big band sound and swing dancing. But she complained about the old people. I told her that some might think of her as old. She replied, “I’m talking about the really old people, the ones who are almost one hundred.”

Thinking of old rock, and old Eric Clapton drifts into my mind on clouds of cigarette smoke. Eric Clapton is one of my rock heroes, you know. And, ‘lo, into my head from the crucible of thoughts emerged a little-known Clapton song, “Tearing Us Apart”. Done as a duet with Tina Turner in 1987, it didn’t receive much airtime, that I know. I came to know it because I’ve bought a lot of Clapton albums and watched him on DVDs. He’s played it a few times with Turner in concert. Today, though, I found a 1996 concert where Sheryl Crow is on vocals with Eric. I liked it and thought I’d share it with you.

Enjoy your day. Wear your mask.

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Monday’s Theme Music

My dreams of late are circling a depressing track of not being seen, not being heard, confused identity, missed opportunities… I suspect it’s a lack of proper external stimulation, beyond vicariously encountered through the net and television. Although I often live like a hermit — it’s a function of who I am — I do enjoy and need some social stimulation. I’m otherwise trapped in my own woods, and the trees close in.

The first song slipping into my conscious stream today was “I Wanna Be Around”. This sixties pop music staple inundated television and radio throughout my early youth. Versions by Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, Dinah Shore, Aretha Franklin, and others drifted through. Most of my fixation was on the lines, “I wanna be around to see how he does it, when he breaks your heart to bits. Let’s see if the puzzle fits so fine.”

After playing that loop out, M

Mr. Mister’s “Broken Wings” (1985) entered the stream. I thought it a better theme song for today.

Take these broken wings
And learn to fly again, learn to live so free
When we hear the voices sing
The book of love will open up and let us in

h/t to Genius.com

Yes, it’s a repeat — I may have done it twice before — but it suits my rutty mood. Hope your days and world is going better. Please wear a mask. Survive. Endure. Thrive.

Cheers

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Sunday’s Theme Music

I use the phrase “Check it out,” often. Used it all of my life. We used it in the military, along with variations like, “Check this out.”

‘Check it out’ always meant, “Hey, look at this,” or “Notice this,” because it’s something special. In our house most recently, it’s been, “Check it out,” regarding something stupid Trump said/did, but also wildlife wandering through the yard — bucks in the day, skunks at night. Check it out.

My friend, a retired doctor, has more varied wildlife at his place. Although just a mile away, it seems further. He sends video of wildlife caught via a trail cam. Check it out, says his email subject line, and it’s a video two cubs nursing on mama bear a yard away from the camera. Or it’s a big bear scratching his back on a pine, another bear taking shelter from a rainstorm. Once in a while, it’s a cougar or fox taking a stroll.

John Cougar, who became John Cougar Mellencamp, who became John Mellencamp (the name he was given at birth), made a song of it in 1987. I saw him perform it in a soccer stadium in Germany the next year, a good show.

So, check it out.

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Steppenfloof

Steppenfloof (floofinition) – A Floofnadian-Floofmerican floof rock musical group formed in Floof Angeles in 1967. The band became known for a bluesy heavy-metal sound.

In use: “Two of Steppenfloof’s biggest hits were “Magic Carpet Cat” and “Born to Howl”, which was used in the 1969 film, Easy Floofer.”

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Secretly

The sun is beating on my head through my hat. I’m just the help. It’s a role that I enjoy.

Some.

“Boss me around, baby,” I do NOT say. I stay mute, gloves on hands, left arm in its removable brace, hoe nearby, spade in hand.

My wife is the master, planting her garlic for winter. She’s serious about her garden. Fresh bulbs had been procured, along with the right soil and fertilizer. Potatoes occupy the usual garlic winter home. A new one is required. “Somewhere in the sun,” she proclaims with steely vigor, looking around.

A song spurts into my head. Oh, hey. Did you happen to —

“We need to move the compost bins,” my wife declares.

We’re in the side yard, where most of the gardening is done. Boo, the backyard panther with a white star on his chest (like he’s sheriff) (guess, that would be a floofriff) moseys along toward us, talking as he comes. One compost bin (previously emptied) is moved to a new location. With this happening, Boo retreats to the backyard He wants nothing to do with work.

I shovel the compost from the full one to the empty one’s new location. The song resumes it secret playing in my head. Oh, hey. Did you happen to see the most beautiful girl in the world. And if you did, was she crying?

Yes, Charlie Rich is serenading my brain with “The Most Beautiful Girl” as I do as I’m told. (We’re now on breaking up the soil where the garlic is to reside.) I blame my mother for this song. While Charlie Rich’s voice and the accompanying music is coming off vinyl courtesy of Mom’s mohogany Magnavox console stereo, it’s Mom singing along along with Rich who is actually singing in my head. She used to frustrate me by singing this song when I was trying to talk to her about it. It was apparently funny to her. The song came out in 1973. I would turn seventeen that year. I’d left home a year or two before to live with Dad, but would return to Mom for major holidays. Dad, single guy that he was, didn’t do holidays.

Why did Mom sing that song to me? Why was I singing today? These the mind’s mysteries. At least, they’re my mind’s mysteries. I don’t know what goes on in others’ minds. I barely comprehend what’s happening in my own.

“Now I just need to water them.” My wife was finished. I was dismissed.

It was a good day. Time to go wash my wife’s car. Wonder what song will be playing?

Oh, wait, Rose Royce begins their 1976 hot song, “Car Wash”. I was stationed in the Republic of the Philippines when it was out. My good buddy Bopie introduced it to me.

At least this one is task appropriate.

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