Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Carfloof (floofinition) – Animal who enjoys car rides or who prefers using cars as shelter or protection.
In use: “A true carfloof, the little tabby started riding in cars when she was six months old, enjoying the view from the center console, rising up on to her back legs to watch everything going on outside the windows.”
I was visiting with family. We were going to a special event. It may have been part of a wedding or a holiday. Never clear to RL me although dream me understood.
Women and children dominated in the dream family. I knew none of them from RL. A chaotic dream, almost immediately upon arrival, I set up in my room, a narrow, tall space with a cheap bed. This room later changed, becoming wide, and long, with a low ceiling. I didn’t notice the change during the dream but as I look back on it, I can see the difference.
Word was given, time to start getting ready to go. I dumped my suitcase to go through my clothing. I’d only brought shorts with me even though I knew it was supposed to be a fancy function. As I went through the shorts, discarding many as unacceptable, I chastised myself with my packing decisions — what the hell had I been thinking? Women who were dream family members kept coming by to see what I was choosing to wear. I had the impression that they were taking their cues from me. That unnerved me, as I felt pretty clueless and unprepared. NTL, I was going to do my best.
I tried on a pair of black and white shorts. Knee-length, they had a pleated waist and fit me well. Now a shirt! I found a silvery one which I decided went well with the shorts. Women coming by came and told one another, “He’s going to be sparkling.” They went off. When I next saw them, they were dressed in glittering sequined dresses in red, blue, black, gold, silver, and white. All wore ornate necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. They seemed like they were quickly ready to go.
But the children weren’t ready, and were following me around, waiting for me to dress. It’s now that my room became different. As I held up the shorts and checked myself in a mirror, I realized my shorts were muddied. OMG, now what was I going to do?
I began going through my shorts again. At that point, a young man came in. Supposedly another relative, he acted a little off. I thought that he could be on drugs. Other than that, he had short blonde hair, was my height but very muscular.
He walked around my room, telling me that he was just looking around and then asking me what I was going to wear. I showed him my muddied black and white shorts, then set them aside and continued going through the others. He complimented me on my shorts, walked around a little more, then suddenly moved. Grinning broadly, he left.
I decided that I’d wash the mud off the black and white shorts. They were gone! Realizing the guy had taken them, I went out after him. I quickly chased him down. He denied it at first, then held up the shorts and confirmed he’d taken them, but justified his behavior because he liked them and I had a lot of shorts to wear and he had none. As he finished this, I jerked the shorts out of his hand.
Shouting, he threw a punch. I dodged that and scrambled backwards and up onto a low wall. Fists balled, he came after me. Others were watching. I knew he was way more muscular than me and figured that he would easily beat me senseless. As he approached, I said, “I’m not fighting over shorts. This is stupid. These are mine. If you want to steal them, you can, but everyone will know.”
He’d been about to take the shorts and hit me. Jerking to a halt, he started berating himself. I grasped the gist was that he had problems and he was struggling to change. As he did that, I slipped away.
I still needed to wash my shorts. Locating a bathroom, I went in, closing and locking the door behind me. As I bent over the sink, a woman pulled the top of the door back from the frame, unhooked a lock and then reached down and unlocked the door. She opened it; I pulled it closed. She opened it again.
Another woman came up, demanding to know what was going on. I explained my end. She answered, “We can’t have this.” I realized that she was referring to a locked door. Leaving that bathroom, I went off to find a phone.
Dream end.
All the leaves aren’t brown, and the sky’s not gray. Mr. Blue Sky and Ms. Sunshine have taken over again. Although temperatures threaten the gonads with freezing when out at night, the midnight views of moon, stars, planets, and galaxies have been clear and spectacular.
It’s 39 F out and rising since the sun brokered daybreak at 7:04 this morning. The gusting ways have finished for the moment. Leaves in all shades of reds and maroons, scarlets and plums, bronze and brown, lemon and gold, along with green variations, still hang in the trees. None have fallen to the ground in my neighborhood yet. I’m certain that past Octobers and Novembers found me raking leaves or planning to rake leaves as they migrate to the yard and driveway and cover the walk. Hasn’t happened yet this year. Yet. Always add the yet.
Yesterday afternoon after the wind closed up found us luxurious in sun-warmed sixty-degree (F) air. Won’t be as high today, the weather seers (weaers in professional terminology) boom on TV. Highs in our nugget of valley will be 52 F. The door closes on sunlight with the setting at 4:48 PM.
Met with my beer buddies last night. Elements of two local HS robotics teams — two teams, one school — met with us to introduce themselves, thank us for past donations, and show us their latest machines and what the competitive objectives are this year. Always fascinating to meet these young, intelligent, enthusiastic people. We’re happy to support them and made a $500 donation to their cause.
The Neurons have a Lizzo song in my morning mental music stream. Friend Jill commented that she doesn’t listen to the radio and doesn’t like much modern music. I heard “About Damn Time” yesterday, a song which came out this year, and wondered if Jill would like it. Its melody sounds like something out of the 1972 R&B era to my untutored old ears, so I thought that would appeal to Jill. A closer listening of the lyrics caused a re-appraisal of my position that Jill might like this song.
Didn’t matter. The Neurons had a hold of it and kept it going in the MMMS (trademark pending). So I offer it as Thursday’s theme music. It is a catchy, upbeat tune, so I don’t blame The Neurons.
This is Thursday, ya know, November 17, 2022. One week from today is Thanksgiving in the U.S. Time to start getting ready. Meanwhile, Black Friday will be the day after T-day, although many business entities declared that they’re starting Black Friday early. Cause, you know, it’s the American way to make things bigger and bigger and bigger until everyone says, “Too much. Please stop.” But as this involves money, shopping, and savings — and don’t you deserve a new car, truck, furniture, clothing or game? — this is gonna take some time to reach its saturation level and we all numb out. I think Black Friday started the week after Halloween this year.
Okay, on to Lizzo. Here’s the song. Hope you enjoy it. Stay positive and test negative. Get vaxxes as you can, and I’ll get some coffee, along with a slice of banana nut bread which a friend dropped off yesterday. Vax day is tomorrow for me and my spouse. Hope you have a tremendous Thursday.
Cheers
The husband and wife were complaining about cutbacks. The city had removed the drop boxes for utility bills from ‘their’ end of town, necessitating a two mile walk or drive to drop the bill off. “Hardly a drop off,” he huffed.
She said, “They keep cutting services back but we keep paying more.”
He began laughing. “We sound just like our parents.” Standing, he said in a raised voice, “I remember when they delivered the mail twice a day and stamps were three cents.”
It was funny, even if it was all true. Someday, Gen Z will complain and say that they sound just like the Boomers.
The writing day drains me again. I feel physically like I’ve run a half marathon — and I’ve done that and remember how I felt afterward. I also feel like I finished an important project at work, one that consumed my time and thinking. I feel, too, like I’ve been at a funeral, by a grave in the rain, and now I’m back home, changing clothes, reflecting on life and death, change and emotions, and I feel like I’ve been waiting for someone who never showed.
A good writing day, I judge it, even though so much remains to be written.
I identify with this quote. So many can’t change how they see others, and must act on that, torturing logic, evidence, and truth so the narrative fits what they see, and not what the other actually is.
Floofment (floofinition) – Animal action to instigate a reaction or rouse others.
In use: “The dog learned that the best way to floofment Suzanne and get her attention was to jump up, look towards the downstairs area as if hearing something, and then start barking like mad. It worked every time.”
Hello! Welcome to Wed-nez-day.That’ how I always feel it should be said, and I often do say it that way. But language and pronunciation are like quantum physics, working to their own mysterious rules.
It’s the 16th of November, 2022. The month and the year are uncoiling for their final segments.
Sunshine has invaded the fall sky, complemented by a rich abundance of wind. Sunrise jumpstarted daytime at 0702. Night’s portion of this Wed-nez-day falls into place at 1648 tonight. It’s 50 out now — that’s Fahrenheit — and the 62 is the expected high.
No news on Mom. Sitting here drumming my fingers, waiting for test results. Middle little sister — I have three younger sisters to match my one older one, and they are an interesting set — said that test results usually need four days in that hospital system. Herself says she’s feeling fine but annoyed.
Feeding the beasts this morning, I was singing them a song that I often utilize, that being “Fifty Ways to Feed Your Floofy”. The lyrics for my cover go, “Just open a can, Sam. Fill the bowl, Moe. Just feed it to me. Don’t look at the clock, Jock. Don’t need to discuss much, just pour out the food, dude. Give me something to eat.”
The Neurons picked up on it, so the original Paul Simon melody is thriving in the morning mental music stream. This was Simon’s only solo number one. When I heard that years ago, I had to verify it using the net. Did it again today. It’s such a familiar song for me and lends itself well to the morning feeding ritual. The song was released in 1975, the same year my SO and I started leaving together and then married.
Coffee is being drunk. The Neurons are happy. Stay positive, test negative, and vax up, including the flu, you know? It’s doing the circuits, dropping people out of social and volunteer commitments. Hope it doesn’t get you.
Here’s the tune. Feel free to supply your own lyrics, like, “Give me a cup of brew, Stu. Must be fifty ways to have your coffee.” I’m having mine with Meyer’s lemon pound cake. Wife made it to give to others. It wasn’t to her standards, so I’m the beneficiary. That light sweetness goes great with my coffee’s bitter essence.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 