Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
He read that male giraffes will butt female giraffes in their bladder until they urinate. The male will then taste the female’s urine to see if she’s ovulating.
Imagining how all that might have worked if humans had followed a similar course, he decided that he was glad that humans did not.
Reading an article online, he encountered an asterisk at the end of a sentence and scoured the rest of the page for why the asterisk was there. None was found.
He shook his head in disappointment, muttering something about the shortcomings in life being found in unexplained asterisks.
Gumbyfloof (floofinition) – Animal who stretches, curls up, or generally contorts itself in unusual positions.
In use: “Little black Crystal was a true gumbyfloof, tucking her head under in ridiculous positions when she was sleeping, and managing to twist and coil her way into weird places all over the house. Predicting where she might be found needed a true seer.”
He awoke writing in his head, picking up the story where he’d stopped the previous day. Cats were first fed because he wasn’t inexperienced. The cats would haunt home with song until they were fed, and, you know, responsibilities, right? An agreement existed which must be honored on his end.
He settled into his office chair, typing fast for fifteen minutes. Insulated in his fictional world, he heard his wife’s activities as she pursued her post-rising rituals. Mental countdown beginning, he typed faster, racing through the scene to grab it all. The cats joined him, one on the windowsill behind him, speaking to his back, the other jumping up onto his desk, heading for his right side, waiting for him to reach for the mouse, intercepting his hand with a nose mash as he tried selecting a line to copy, paste, move. Then his wife entered talking.
He didn’t know what she said. Muses still shouted words in his head, but he knew the writing moment was done, at least for the moment.
When the sky rolled over again, we saw land. Scrambling off the raft and through the water, we came to a shore. Jersey solemnly pronounced, “This is Sunday.”
Now, it’s September 4, 2022, Labor Day in the United States, a holiday to celebrate working people. Many must work during the celebration because work never ends. Our smoke is better today, but good news is thin when it comes to the fires and fighting them. Fingers crossed, positive energy for those areas, prayers if that’s your thing, for them. Air quality for us is hovering at 100 but the smell is much better today. My eyes are only tearing a little, there’s less ache in the back of my throat, and the snot faucet has been turned off. I call that an improvement.
Only reached 85 F yesterday. Winds shifted and pressures moved. Today it’s 18 C now with a high of 90 F lurking out there. They’re forecasting a steady rise back to triple digits this week, and then a general cool down as we laze toward autumn. A leisurely sunrise was witnessed by those looking to the East at 6:39 AM. Look west at 7:40, and you’ll catch the ‘setting’ sun.
I have “Candida”, a 1970 song by Tony Orlando and Dawn in the morning mental music stream. The Neurons put it there when the cats and I went out back to do a sniff test. Lovely cold air and no bonfire scents made me think of the air as fresh and clean. Those words are lyrics in “Candida” so The Neurons fired up the song faster than you can say, “What?” Tony Orlando and Dawn wasn’t slotted in between The Who, Led Zep, and Pink Floyd as part of my regular music rotation, but the group made it big. Their sound regularly graced AM pop stations and television variety shows. Mom liked their songs, so whenever we were in the car and one came up, it wasn’t unusual for her to tip the volume up two notches.
“Candida” is a repeat. The last time The Neurons volunteered the song was in Feb. of 2019, and it was because of dreaming. See how The Neurons work my mind?
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, etc. The coffee signal has just gone up, and I must respond. Have a Happy Labor Day, if it applies to you. If not, have a happy day. Here’s Tony and the girls. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 