Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
This one started after having a dream, then was recalled and reinforced when dealing with the cats.
“Gimme Little Sign” was a 1967 hit for Brenton Wood. (Yeah, I had to look that up; didn’t recall the name at all.) I was eleven when it came out. Discovering girls and trying to understand them in my subsequent teen years, the song made sense. “Just gimme some kind of sign, girl,” you know? Do you like me or what? Want to go to the movies? Wanna go steady?
A dream about a game kicked it up out of the subconscious basement. In the dream, as the game started and I faltered, I said in exasperation, “Give me some kind of sign about what I’m supposed to be doing.” Then, watching others, I suddenly grasped the mechanics and rules, and was all, “Oh, yeah. Now I get it.”
Later, as I was up and processing the dailies and the cats and I interacted, they seemed to be all over about what they wanted. Impatience gaining traction, I asked Boo, “Can you give me some kind of sign about what it is you want?” Which then rekindled memories of the dream and the song.
It’s like a personal game of six degrees.
Here’s the music. It is a redux, as I posted it in 2017, but it’s a classic from that era, so I hope you enjoy it. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get vaccinated. Cheers
Floofilize (floofinition) – 1. To make into a dwelling suitable for an animal’s existence.
In use: “When a litter of kittens was brought in to foster, they floofilized a room where they’d be safe until proper socialization could begin.”
2. “To become stiff and unable to move due to an animal’s presence atop you.”
In use: “Pet owners often sit down to watch television or read only to become floofilized after an animal jumps up on their lap and goes into sleep.”
The Floofridge Family (floofinition) – Floofmerican musical floofcom which originally aired on floofevision for several years in the early to mid- 1970s. Although the show’s characters were musicians and singers, only two of the cast members actually sang in the musical recordings. Under the name of the band, several floop (floof pop) songs were popular, reaching the top 100 in Floofmerica.
In use: “One of the The Floofridge Family floop hits was “I Think I’ll Bite You”, which reached number one in the Floofnited States and several other countries between 1970 and 1972.”
I didn’t write yesterday. Yes, it was hard. Habit, desire, and intentions all draw me back. Getting lost in a good book when reading is easy and entertaining. Its the same experience, but deeper, when writing one.
So, I didn’t sit down with pen and paper or at the laptop to write, but the writing continued in my brain. As the story resides in my mind and the novel is taking shape in the computer, many things are put into the tale. Yesterday, I made decisions to cut some adventures to keep the story tidier, reduce complications, and keep the pace up.
That’s the writing life. Until it’s done, you’re discovering and nurturing characters, story, concept, playing it first through mental processes, then spilling it across pages. In the case of novels with a sweep being driven by its setting or time – say, historic, science fiction or fantasy, or a different culture – added issues with focus are brought on by how much of that other place is to be included. It’s a personal decision for every tale. As the writer and creator, it’s a challenge to shape it all. When I do, I create a lot that I enjoy. Readers don’t require the entire world, so I need to strip some of my darlings from the tale.
The ones set aside never completely go away. On the computer, they’re put into other documents, annotated with their heritage, along with the reasons they were cut. They live on in my mind, too, perhaps resurfacing in other stories.
Got my coffee. Time to sit down again and write like crazy, at least one more time.
Called Mom yesterday to exchange holiday greetings. She lives in a suburb east of Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania where they’re more or less snowed in. Four to six inches were on the ground and the snow was still falling. The roads had been plowed and salted, and appeared outside her window. But snow still fell and temperatures were low. Those are treacherous conditions. If you don’t need to go out, you don’t.
So she and her fiancée spent Christmas at home alone. They seemed fine with that. Stocked with plenty of food, they know how to entertain themselves and one another. She conveyed to me the news that the governor had announced that Allegheny county, where she resides, had received the Pfizer COVID-19. Residents seventy years old plus would be the first vaccinated. Mom is awaiting word on the schedule and details.
Conversation ended up including food — of course (Mom and my sisters love holiday meal planning, and endless discussions, texts, and emails ensue to make it all happen — which it didn’t, this COVID year) — relatives, and then music. Mom relayed to me that her two favorite songs are “Blue Christmas” covered by Elvis Presley (1957) and “All I Want for Christmas Is You” by Mariah Carey (1994). “Blue Christmas” has been around a while. In cassette days, one sister always bought her a new cassette for the holiday. Mom would pop it into her Walkman and wear it out as she listened and went about activities.
The Carey song stuck in my head. So, thanks to Mom, your after-Christmas theme music is “All I Want for Christmas Is You”. Whenever I think of this song, it’s lifted from the movie, Love Actually (2003). Enjoy the music, stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vaccine. Happy holiday!
Dreamed I had a large house. One story, it was white and long, like an extended ranch, with many windows. Attached to one end of it was a business in a garage. The unspecified business, now closed, used to be a hangout for gangs and drug dealers.
This was about me, but I wasn’t the me that I am now; I looked different and had a young family. Someone told me that the business used to be used for different gang meetings, the first I learned of it. Gang members, motorcyclists, white supremacists, etc., kept showing up. I was turning them away but worried about my family. The only weapon I could find was an air rifle. I used that, constant vigilance, and threats to call the police to keep them at bay. That didn’t stop them from breaking in a few times and insisting they had a right to be in the business because that’s how it used to be. Sometimes, they would try to sneak in on the other end of the house. I kept telling them, sorry, you need to go because that’s all changed.
Despite this short synopsis, it was a lengthy dream. No violence ever took place, it was taut with tension throughout.
Well, this is definitely a redux.
I enjoy Bing Crosby and David Bowie’s Christmas duet of “Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy” from 1977. I was stationed in the Philippines that year and didn’t see it for over another year. I enjoy the two of them together, legends in their own right, and wildly different. Crosby was 73, and Bowie was 30. Newsweek’s tale of the two is entertaining reading. The banter and setup is true to that television era, and makes me cringe a bit, but their voices blend well.
Happy Christmas to you. Stay positive, test negative, and wear a mask.
Michael Seidel, writer 