Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Honeyfloof – (floofinition) – An especially sweet animal.
In use: “Depite a pugilistic nom de floof, Rocky was a honeyfloof, always making friends, no matter what critter he meant. Except flies. They were his one weakness.”
The ceiling fans are still. Baristas behind the counter are quiet. Low-key. Not like them.
The coffee house is a third full. Music plays. People chat and work phones and laptops, sipping beverages, nibbling treats. But a feeling rolls through. Something is off. Different. Like the building is waiting to inhale.
Maybe it’s not them or the building. Perhaps it’s only him.
Thursday’s raised itself out of the Earth and declared, “I am April 13, 2023.” A sun sprinting over the horizon concurred and cast a wide net of shine and warmth over the land.
That was at 6:34 AM. It was 30 degrees F at the time. Faint, indifferent white clouds said, “Yo.” Rain and snow didn’t fail. The spring and winter yo-yo continues.
Sunset in Ashlandia, where the beer is excellent and the children are above average, will be at 7:50 PM. The weather messengers spread word, high will be at 55 F, nice, but a little disappointing. Sunday’s high of 73, with spring buoyancy, spoiled us. There is sunshine, though, so the cats are out there sopping it up.
We toasted friends with beer last night and chatted about the weather. Snow fell outside. It cleared. Then it rained but the sun shined still, converting each raindrop into a falling diamond. What is with the weather this year echoed from person to person.
Politic watching again this morning. Eyeing the Trump trials and tribulations, wondering, what will come? Reading of the GOP’s legislative efforts to protect Trump and the Manhatten DA’s lawsuit against Rep. Jim Jordan. Following the spillage over Justice Thomas and his relationship with a wealthy sponsor, and the emails between his wife and others. Thinking about Connor Sturgeon’s murders and his mother’s frantic 911 call that morning.
Wonder and thought, speculations and reflections.
Then there is the Pythia’s Oasis, fifty miles off the coast of Newport, Oregon.
Oddly quiet on the dream front last night. The Neurons ply me with Cheap Trick and “Dream Police”. That’s been used, I scoff. And it’s so obvious. What else you got?
The Neurons responded with “One of these Days” by Pink Floyd from 1971. Basically an instrumental. Just one line of words: “One of these days I’m going to cut you into little pieces.” Nick Mason delivers it.
Stay positive, endure, and overcome. Here’s the music. I’m going to go overcome a cuppa joe. Cheers
Many of my recent dreams have been about self-doubt, communication problems, and confusion. Last night’s dream added a different twist. A sort of duality emerged right at the beginning.
I was a civilian but arrived at a military complex. Walking in, I assumed my military persona as an experienced senior NCO. I had a huge cache of cash with me, US currency, twenties, fifties, hundreds. I was trying to put them into a leather bag. There was so much, it would fit. I shoved some into pockets but was left with more.
While this transpired, I grew aware of three men watching me. One black, two whites. All taller than me. Bigger. But middle-aged, as I was in dream world.
I suspected they were planning to jump and rob me. I wasn’t going to permit that to happen and placed my keys in my hand with the tips outward between my fingers. One of the men came close. I turned on him as he reached for me, and swung hard at him.
I completely missed.
But he was surprised, taken aback. Dropping back, he stumbled, fell, hit his head, and lost consciousness. One down. Similar things happened with the other two, where I was completely clumsy and ridiculous in my fighting efforts — I am not a fighter in real life or dreams — but still won. With them dispatched, I went to find my room, number 2407.
The complex was like a maze. Signage was almost non-existence. Doors were closed but no locked. I ended up going through quarters for different people, along with operations areas and work rooms for different squadrons. People sometimes challenged me as I walked in on dental and surgical operations, counseling sessions, and newcomer orientations. I kept walking through, trying to find my way, often telling them when they accosted me, “I wouldn’t be here if you guys had signs. This is totally ridiculous.” I vowed as I went that I would write this up to give them feedback about the lack of signs, and the disorganization which I encountered.
When I found my room, it was locked. I had a key, though. It was a calm oasis within. Paused there, I reflected on the dream’s elements while still dreaming, and realized how much it reflected my personal issues, real and imagined. Then I drew out my cash and realized that I was wealthy.
That’s how it ended.
Microsoft updated his computer. He supposed it was a good thing. Needed to repair security holes, misfiring features, and add new stuff.
Took so long, though. Bricked his computer for almost half an hour. He watched as it went through the process, shut down, and then started again.
Nothing worked after he logged in but the task manager said the machine was busy. He rebooted.
Everything came up. Now the experience would really go live. What would be broken, moved, added, relocated?
Updates were usually a trying experience. It was really just more first world blues, though.
Blazing question in my head to research. Why, after being complimented about something well done, do people pretend to buff their nails? Know what I’m talking about? Figure it has to do with work and not having dirty nails or maybe having the time to do your nails, or maybe implying that your nails are in good shape and not broken because the work was easy. All things I’m inferring from context. Really curious about the gesture and its history.
Meanwhile, we watched the snow failing this Wednesday, April 12, 2023 morning. 6:30 AM it was. Falling, sticking, accumulating. All gone an hour later. Right now, it’s all blue sky and disheveled gray and white clouds. And it’s snowing again.
It’s now 37 F. Word around the weather stand is the high will be 44, 47, or 51 F. Depends on which service you ask. Sunrise came at 6:35 and the sun turn will end at 7:49 AM.
Read yesterday that California endured a stunning 32 atmospheric rivers this year. Ashlandia, in southern Oregon, shared in some of that largess.
Note of interest: I just learned this morning that the full name for Papi, my ginger floofmate, is Papi von Painintheass. Who knew?
Watched the last of “Sprung” last night on Freevee. A Greg Garcia production, I knew it would have quirky characters and surprising twists. Helped with a strong cast led by Martha Plimpton and Garret Dillahunt, I wasn’t disappointed. The ending to this short pandemic-inspired series was sweet and funny. The music to the closing credits was “Better Things” by the Kinks, 1981. I hadn’t heard the song in a long time, so The Neurons regaled me with it in the morning mental music stream, and I share it with you as today’s theme music. It’s a jaunty song with an ‘old-fashioned’ rock and roll sensibility. Hope you enjoy it.
Stay pos. Like the bumper sticker said, dream big. Or, have coffee. Relax. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 