Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Tucker vocalized a litany of breakfast requests a little before seven thirty. After addressing the house king’s requirements, I went into the back yard. The sun was just clearing the trees, forcing reflections that I don’t see the sunrise in this house. The back yard faces the east and the rising sun, per this reality’s dictation, but trees and mountains obscure the orb for the first ninety minutes of its summer rise.
Hi. It’s Tuesday, 7/19/22. It’s currently 75 F out. We’re expecting a high of 37 C today. The sun made its effort to illuminate the valley at 5:51 AM, mountains and trees be damned. Sunset will make the end of Tuesday’s daylight segment at 8:43 this evening.
Life in America – life in the world – has me and The Neurons singing “Mad World” by Tears for Fears. I think Jill Dennison is responsible for that. She’d shared a TfF song on her blog. I countered with “Shout”. The Neurons then took me through a Tears for Fears anthology. While I have a life of privilege, without food or shelter insecurity, a white guy with all the inherent benefits that conveys in the modern United States, news of food shortages, senseless shootings and death elsewhere, weather disasters, and the sickening state in which some exist, brought up “Mad World”. So much of our world seems to go in circles. In one sense, it’s natural and fundamental; in another, it’s deeply crazy.
So, here is the song. As part of the “Mad World”, wear masks and test negative and stay positive. More friends are down with COVID. I’ve not been struck – was I but just going about asymptomatic? One never knows. Coffee is at hand. Here’s the tune.
Peace out.
What beautiful, feathery clouds…
High Floof (floofinition) – 1. In the Floofodoxy Church, the High Floof is the floofiest position, responsible for ruling over other floofs regarding floof matters.
In use: “As the High Floof, Sammy interpreted what the humans were saying and told the other pets how to respond. None of the household pets ever did anything without Sammy’s sayso.”
2. An animal that habitually prefers a higher physical location.
In use: “While Misty was an underfloof, always at foot level, Mo was a high floof, jumping up onto the cat tree, irritating the felines with his canine presence.”
I had an odd dream. My wife and I were in our house. It’s not our RL house nor any place where I’ve lived but I know in the dream that it’s mine. For some reason, there’s a small black kitten there. All legs and ears, with a short, pointed tail, he’s an energetic whirlwind, battling everything, prancing and spinning, on the attack, crabbing and racing around. It delighted me. “Look at his energy,” I said. “He’s amazing.”
Friends were moving away. My wife announced, “I want a new house. Come on.” I began protesting about it, asking, right now, looking for reasons why, etc. She was non-communicative. I get in the car with her, still trying to talk with her about it, and she ends up saying that she wants a smaller house, and she wants us to drive around looking for it. I have a small off-white kitten with me. The cat is basically sleeping on me.
We get to place where she wants to stop and look for a home. After parking, we’re walking to the place when she thinks she sees someone she knows. She just wants to say hello, she says, rushing off. I tell her not to be too long because I know how she is. Then I wander into a place.
It’s pretty non-descript. I put the white kitten down. It runs around, playing kitten games. Meanwhile, a young girl comes up and strikes me on the back with a flat metal object. It’s not quite a sword or any weapon I’ve ever seen. A young boy comes up and tries doing the same. The boy then explains that they’re playing a game, it’s part of a bigger game, and they get points by striking people. I take them on, encouraging them to strike more boldly and quickly. After a little of this, I recover the white kitten. The kitten and I lie down under a blanket for a nap.
My wife finally returns, calling for me. I sit up with the kitten. My wife tells me that she ‘still has feelings’ for this other person, someone she’s not seen in decades.
I just explode. “Fine. I’m tired of this,” I say. “Do what you want. I’m gone.”
Dream end.
Welcome to Monday, July 18, 2022. Current temp is 16 C. Projected high temp is 92 F. Sunshine cracked the vault above at 5:50 AM, with the sun projected to remain in this vicinity until 8:43 PM. The daylight hours are winding down toward the shortest day of the year for the valley in December.
Being home means the vacation has ended. That means we return to healthy eating. Not that we abandoned it during the vacation. But now we must make our meals. Well, not must. It’s how we’re conditioned as responsible adults. Suggesting doing otherwise is irresponsible. So says my wife. It’s also expensive. And boring; we’re not thrilled by our local eatery options of late. Listen to me whine. Talk about being entitled and privileged, yeah?
Billy Idol’s 1984 song, “Eyes Without A Face”, occupies the morning mental music stream. That came from The Neurons, who jumped all over the phrase, it’s hard to get relief. They converted that into Idol’s lyric, “But hard to get release.” Stupid neurons. Of course, I have strong memories of this song coming out when I was stationed on Okinawa in the USAF.
Stay chill, hope for the best, do your thing but take the tests. The tests are limited help with the current COVID variants circulating. Friend after friend mentions being negative, isolating, and testing again, and coming up positive. Fingers crossed for you all, yeah?
Okay, getting coffee. Also, need to have a garage door repaired. A panel has bowed. I want to reinforce it with a strut, but my vehicle isn’t large enough for the strut length required. So I’m going to a pro for this repair.
Have a better one. Cheers
After knowing one another for fifty-one years, including forty-five years of marriage, they remain a couple separated by a common language, even though they’re both American.
Michael Seidel, writer 