Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofpremacist (floofinition) – Person or animal who believes animals are inherently superior to other beings and should have control over them as well as greater privileges.
In use: “Being a floofpremacist, the dog refused to accept that mere people could sit on the furniture while he, an animal, was forced to stay on the floor. Thus, whenever given the chance, he asserted his rights and got right up there on the furniture.”
It was two A.M. The bladder mumbled something. Didn’t need to hear exactly. Knowing what he wanted, I ambled through sleep and dark to the voiding station. A precipitation orchestra was tuning up. Plink plink. Plink.
Rain. By the time my bladder had finished his business, a solid downpour was underway. The cats and I — my flooftourage had followed me, of course (what’s he doing, where’s he going?) — slipped to a door to enjoy the rain and fresh air. But the smoke remained, thick as oatmeal, scratching at my eyes and nose. Still, it had rained.
Today is Friday, September 10, 2021, the second of four Fridays in September. We will have five Wednesday and Thursdays in September. A tepid imitation of sunrise took place at 6:45 AM. Last night gave us an an almost normal sunset as the smoke cleared enough for standardized views. Who will know tonight? The smoke comes from all directions. If you want to see the sunset in Ashland, look west — outside or through a window — at 7:29 PM.
The Dutch band, Golden Earring, had a 1982 hit called “Twilight Zone”. The song begins with a man talking. Then he says, “It’s two A.M.” The vocalist then begins singing with that line, “It’s two A.M.” He then goes on, “The fear has gone, I’m sitting here waiting, the gun’s still warm, maybe my connection is tired of taking chances.”
More lyrics (h/t AZLyrics.com):
Yeah there’s a storm on the loose, sirens in my head
Wrapped up in silence, all circuits are dead
Cannot decode, my whole life spins into a frenzy
Help I’m steppin’ into the twilight zone
Place is a madhouse, feels like being cloned
My beacon’s been moved under moon and star
Where am I to go, now that I’ve gone too far
Help I’m steppin’ into the twilight zone
Place is a madhouse, feels like being cloned
My beacon’s been moved under moon and star
Where am I to go, now that I’ve gone too far
Soon you will come to know
When the bullet hits the bone
Soon you will come to know
When the bullet hits the bone
I’m falling down the spiral, destination unknown
Double-crossed messenger, all alone
Can’t get no connection, can’t get through, where are you
Well the night weighs heavy on his guilty mind
This far from the borderline
When the hitman comes
He knows damn well he has been cheated
It’s all about wondering who you are, what’s going on. Whether you’re losing your connection with reality. What’s going to happen next.
Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask as needed. Get the vax. Enjoy your Friday. Fetch me a coffee, please. Never mind, I’ll get it myself. Here’s the music.
Cheers
I awoke at about half past darkness with a dream in mind. Realized that I was writing in my dream.
I went over what I’d written. Considered rising to capture it. Decided not to. Resumed sleep.
Awoke in the morning. Went through dreams while doing light exercising and stretching. Daily ritual. The cats assumed the position. Stared fixedly with misery. Tucker seized a more active approach. Moved over and sat on my foot. Looked up at me. Eyes big. Waiting. Expectant. Give a little, “Mello,” in a friendly baritone.
Done with exercising, feeding cats was necessary before starvation took them. We went down the hall, they with eager anticipation, me with resignation. Cleaned out bowls — “You never even finished what I fed you last night” — opened a can. Doled out the wet food. Refilled the kibble stations. Cleaned and filled the water stations.
Coffee was brewed. Before it finished, I was back with the dream writing stuff. Headed to the computer. Wrote for an hour. Surprising how fresh and clear it had remained. Got up when my Fitbit reminded me that it was time to move. Remembered my coffee. Now cold. Drank some anyway. My taste buds immediately sent notices that this was unacceptable. I nuked the coffee hot. The taste buds were appalled.
Writing in my head was still happening. Hadn’t eaten yet but the muses were strong. So, despite the stomach’s increasingly vocal demands, I made fresh coffee and returned to the keyboard. Got back into the rhythm.
Half the coffee remains. It’s almost cold. Mug radiates an ant watt of warmth. Taste buds are not overly pleased with the dark fluid’s progress over their realm.
But it all works. Coffee and dreams. At least, today. Time to eat, according to my stomach. Get some real coffee, too, the taste buds request. Something hot and dark, please.
First, standard warnings. The outside air is unhealthy. Recommend you avoid going outside. Don’t exert yourself outside. People with respiratory issues should take additional precautions.
COVID-19 positives cases remain high as vaccination rates continue to wane. ICUs are full. Wear a mask when outside your home, especially when in stores and restaurants. Social distance. The library is closed to browsing but there is front door service.
Welcome to Thursday, September 9, 2021.
It’s similar to Wednesday and Tuesday. Many of us wonder, when will this stop? The smoke. COVID-19. Drought. Water shortages.
Sunrise was at 6:44 AM. Sunset will be at 7:33 PM. Saw a big red-orange ball in the sky late yesterday afternoon. Purported to be the sun. And darkness did gather when it disappeared. So, cause and effect, must’ve been the sun.
Temperatures today will remain warm but not hot with a forecast high in the mid to open eighties.
A Wham song is rooted in the morning musical mental stream. This is a dream’s influence. I’m still sorting the dream. The song is “Everything She Wants” from 1984. I respect Wham and George Michael but their music wasn’t the sort I generally paid mind. But my female friends and wife looked their music so I heard it often. I’m still piecing together why it was in my dreamscape’s musical score.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the music and there’s my coffee. Cheers
Floofbert’s Rules of Order (floofinition) – Reference guide used by animals to provide the orderly conduct of meeting with one another.
In use: “While Floofbert’s Rules of Order is accepted among many animals, especially housepets, a number of animals refuse to embrace the guidance, arguing that it is against the laws of nature. This is especially so among cats, who believe they are chosen by the gods to rule.”
Good morning, fellow travelers. Our vehicles — body, planet — still appearing to be functioning or we probably wouldn’t be here, me typing this, you, reading it later. Or should we propose some Twilight Zone inspired theories about who we are, where we’re at, and what’s really going on?
Today, ‘they’ claim that it’s Wednesday, September 8, 2021. Smoky, again, in my area. Sunshine came red and dull through the haze at about 6:43 AM. It was a dark and gloomy sunset last night. Dark by 7:30 PM. Sunset today will come at 7:33 PM. Hope we can see the sunset for the smoke.
AQI is currently at 112, so it’s improved but still unhealthy. Present temperature is 64. Autumn is coming, bringing a high of 87 F to us here in the valley. Leaves are turning yellow on a few trees. The shimmering maples are beginning to do their thing, too.
I’m with Queen this morning. Another blogger sang “Some bunny to love,” on an Instragram post. Oh, terrible. But the song stuck to me like peanut butter on a spoon. I finally countered with “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” by Queen (1979). I so vividly recall when this came out and I heard it for the first time. Was at work. Then in the Air Force. Stationed at Randolph AFB, Universal City, just outside of San Antonio, Texas. Worked in the command post. It was by far the most unusual command post in my career. For one thing, we had windows. No other command post I worked in ever had windows. Windows are vulnerabilities that reduce security, you know. Also, this command post was on the first floor of the Taj Mahal, just left of the front entrance. Here’s a photo of that building.
Michael Seidel, writer 