Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Antefloofent (floofinition) – An event or action which precipitates an animal’s activity.
In use: “In many households, the antefloofent for animals interrupting their naps is the some sound, smell, sight, or thought that food is being opened, eaten, or contemplated.”
Touching a sword to the day’s shoulder, I dubbed Saturday Lastallday. I’m alluding to the smoke. Fires are on three sides. Two in California and one, Rum Creek, in Oregon. The newest is Mill Fire by Weed down I-5. It’s like bonfires lit the night out there as a burnt wood smell permeates existence and ash collects on plants and cars. Depresses the bejeesus out of me, hence the name, Lastallday, as in, I hope this air doesn’t last all day.
Bad as we have it, far worse for the people enduring the smoke and fire aspect of it. Evacuations are spreading, animals are fleeing, people are praying, and they’re losing homes and possessions. Another weary year of drought, fire, and smoke with reports coming in that it’s only going to get worse in the coming years.
Hi. Today is September 3, 2022. Sunrise lit our environment in red gold as Sol rays were given scarlet hues by smoke particles at 6:39 this morning. Not a cloud in the sky, we’re bathing in cool air, 17 C, which would be lovely if it wasn’t smoke laden. A high of 100 F is in the works before the night shift takes over at 7:42 PM.
My wife is bummed out. Lake of the Woods Resort isn’t far away. Each summer Saturday, they have a BBQ and then a southern Oregon band plays and everyone dances. We’d created a tradition of trekking up there a few times during summer to celebrate and have fun. Well, COVID holed the tradition for the last two years. This year, it just fell apart. Our June plans fell through, and now our Labor Day plans have gone kerplunk. She’s in a mood, which puts me in a mood. The blazing hot, smoky day does little to alleviate our outlooks. Hope it doesn’t last all day.
I really like that expression, ‘bummed out’. Certainly stocks my mind with interesting imagery.
I’m not much help for my wife. Focused on writing after denying myself the opportunity while other things were pursued at her behest. First, the push to stay in the military. Get that retirement. “You’ll write when you retire from the Air Force,” she told me. Then I retired in 1995 and wanted to move somewhere to make that plan so. “I have a career here,” she said, referring to her advertising employment in Silicon Valley, SF-San Jose California edition. “So I don’t want to move.” But also, I needed to work because that place is hella expensive. After a few years, her employment was over and I was embedded in corporate life, which lasted a few decades, because someone needed to bring in income. And here we are.
Yeah, I’m bitter. Sorry about the self-pity spiel. I’ll try not to do that again.
Checked on Mom. She and her partner are still recovering from COVID. Mom is on molnupiravir under an FDA EUA.
Catching note of my mood, The Neurons saw that I yearned for other times, for times in the near past when I could walk outside, breathe pleasant air and plan activities without worrying about wildfires, smoke, or COVID-19. The Neurons fished around those circulating thoughts and drew out Nirvana and “Come As You Are” from 1992. The Neurons argue that my thoughts reflect my mood of 1992, when the future looked so bright, I had to wear shades. Right.
Here’s the tune. Time to get some magic elixir in me, ye ol’ black brew, kaffee. Test negative, stay positive, and on and on and on. Cheers
Weird little dream. I came to a wall of large beige tiles outside. It was a corner piece. Stopping with others, I looked at the wall and listened as some spoke. It was a small group of people. I knew about half of them. They were guessing about what the wall was about and I responded, oh, it’s an idea wall. Seeing the ideas (none remembered now), I started rearranging the ideas into an affinity grouping, laughing as I did this. The others began recognizing what I was talking about. Most of them then left as I stayed with it. One or two took ideas with them, which didn’t bother me at all. I was enjoying doing this work by myself, studying ideas and re-arranging them. The wall was by an intersection of two paths, and people constantly passed. Some stopped to ask questions. A few asked for ideas and carried them away when they left. Others arrived with ideas. A few placed them on the wall themselves, some after consulting me. Others were haphazard. Shrugging that off, I just correctly arranged the ideas again.
Dream end
She sidled in, cool eyes caressing me, mystery floating around her like a cloud of perfume. Sitting, the muse crossed her legs, an orchestra of graceful and deliberate, unhurried motion. No wasted notes, nothing extraneous. “You ready to do this?”
I nod, bewitched by her voice.
Black diamond eyes sparkling, her pale smile shifts with quicksilver fluidity. “Then begin.”
The muse can be so seductive. After nodding again, I started writing like crazy one more time.
Flooftense (floofinition) Behavior done by a floof or to a floof to fool others.
In use: “The dog quickly learned that if he looked surprised and stared at the window, the others would look to see what he was looking at, enabling him to steal seats, blankets, pillows, and food under this flooftense.”
He loves face watching. Looking at children’s faces, he wonders what they’ll look like in thirty, forty, fifty years and what they’ll become. As he considers elderly faces, he looks for the youths they were, and thinks of the lives they may have lived. So many mysteries slumber in each face, waiting to be discovered.
The particulars are not impressive. Friday. September 2, 2022. 73 F now, 99 F later. Purple air, 148, not healthy for some, limit exposure. A pleasant sunrise complete with jay squawking at 6:37 AM, sunset ensuing at 7:43 PM. No clouds in the sky, but wildfire smoke grays the blue.
Mom tested positive for COVID this week. Born in 1935, with existing underlying conditions, it’s a worry. Sounded horrid on the phone and is dealing with a range of symptoms. Picked it up from her partner, who picked it up from his daughter, who picked it up from her high school reunion. So it goes. He tested and has symptoms but appears to be recovering. Mom is on a new med being evaluated in clinical trials with the FDA. The dice have been tossed. We’ll see how they come up.
Musically, The Neurons have Bob Seger doing “Shakedown” in the morning mental music stream. The song is from the 1987 film, Beverly Hills Cop II, an Eddie Murphy vehicle. This can get confusing because a movie with the same name as the song, Shakedown, with Peter Weller and Sam Elliott, came out the next year.
The song came into my head last night for unexplained reasons. Now, what’s interesting to me is that I knew I used this song before as the day’s selected them music, so I looked it up. It was on September 1, 2019. Weird to me that the song is in my mind on September 1 on two different years. Coincidence? Aliens? Witches? Quantum entanglement? Feline manipulation? None of it can be ruled out.
Stay positive and test negative. Take precautions as needed. I need coffee, you know? Then it’s off to write. Here’s the music. It’s a muddy video, but the sound is fine, and you can taste the flavor of the film, and those times, way back in the late 1980s. No, don’t do the math. Have a good life. Cheers
Another short dream. I was part of some kind of team. Can’t say it was or wasn’t military but ranks and uniforms weren’t in use. I received a phone call about modifying a car for a mission. The car, a silver 2022 Corvette C8 convertible, belonged to another individual who was more senior in rank. I was to approach him and tell him we were going to use his car, and then make changes to it.
I approached as directed. The guy vaguely reminds me of Paulie “Walnuts” from The Sopranos, played by the late Tony Sirico. I give him the message. He stares at me for about five seconds, grunts hard, then tosses something up against the ceiling where it makes a resounding bang and sticks. As I protest that I’m following instructions, he storms off.
That’s the dream’s essence. Further instructions are received. More mods are needed. I tell ‘Paulie’ that they’re needed and I’m going to do them. His anger increases each time, but he does the same thing in response – throws something against the ceiling. Bang, and cracks. Glares at me. Stalks off. As this plays out, I’m getting angry, too.
But there’s never any cracks on the ceiling the next time it happens. And other than his reaction, I enjoy modifying the car and I’m eager to do the work, and gaining confidence that the team will succeed.
He and his friends met for beers and conversation. As they raised glasses and clinked them against one another, he said, “I just learned that the reason people originally clinked glasses like that was because the sound was supposed to drive evil spirits away.”
“Really?” Another asked.
“Yes, apparently the Gods didn’t like people to have fun outside of celebrations of Gods, and would send evil spirits and demons or minions or something after them to stop them from having fun.”
“Huh,” several said.
“Yes,” he continued, “and I just learned that when I made it up.”
Michael Seidel, writer 