Barbookians. That’s what people who ban books should be called. Barbookians.
They’re one level below barbarians. Might even be below savages.
Friday’s Theme Music
It’s a sunshine slathered Friday in May. We never had the thunderstorms expected yesterday. Out working on the yard — it seems like I’m doing this forever, but I work a section at a time after my writing sessions end — I looked up at the sky and saw no clouds. Not one. Blue as far as vision took me.
Today, the 19th, might be the same. It’s 62F now. Doors are open for breezes. Cats floof* the front and back, washing in the entry ways. They’re contented, it seems. Weather prophets spread news, upper eighties, lower nineties. Sunshine. Maybe clouds, they add, covering.
From yard work came a Joe Walsh song from 1972, “Turn To Stone”. That was in reference to upending weeds. We let dandelions stay because the bees enjoy them but the others must go. One yard section by the driveway is pretty much empty space with decorative bushes. Weeds take over. I don’t use herbicides. That means dig them up. Parts of that area felt like it turned to stone, which invited The Neurons to bring the song into the mental music stream, where it has continued through into the morning. But it’s a song I enjoyed in my yud and it brings back some solidly fun memories.
In other news, as mentioned yesterday, the measure, which would have amended the city charter and changed what happens with the Food & Beverage Tax collected, remains alive but will probably be defeated. I voted for it to go down. Here’s where it gets interesting. Based on how it was written, presented, and debated, it was all about revenue collected via that mechanism being directed to the parks and recs folks. Hold on, many opponents said. The city needs a lot of other things, too. Now, as it’s going down, the mayor and other proponents are stepping forward to say that if it had passed, it would have freed up money in the budgetary process that would have allowed us to hire more, fix things, etc. Wait, wait, wait. All of my reading, all my video watching, and discussions with others, that was never mentioned. Then the major closes her reports by saying that opponents misled voters by lying to them. Excuse me, mayor, but you proponents did a piss poor job of explaining what would happen. It’s freakin’ nuts.
Anyway…
I’m also working on a simple DIY project to replace the slider’s screen door screening. Fairly straightforward process except I can’t get the door off to do it. I’ve reviewed videos, etc, but the door just doesn’t rise high enough to access the wheels and remove the door. Driving me bonkers.
Well, here’s the music. Stay pos, and embrace Friday like it might be your last and make it count for something which matters to you. Coffee’s up! Want some?
Cheers
*In this case, floof is used as a verb, much as man can be a noun or verb.
Just In A Dream
Another hill to climb.
Sweat plagued his eyes. He sniffed and swallowed, wishing for water. He’d been going since sunup. Heat and humility built around him. It seemed determined to crush him like a grape.
Giving up was considered and dismissed. He was here and going to do it. Doubt about whether he was following the instructions kept bouncing through, confusing him about what the little thing told him. Half-asleep, he wasn’t sure if it was a robot, tiny human, or something else, like an elf or fairy. They hadn’t introduced themselves. Maybe it wasn’t even real. Just his imagination.
Without preamble, “Just My Imagination (Running Away with Me)” derailed his thinking. Didn’t matter. He’d reached the hill’s crest. Signposts were ahead. An intersection. Down this hill and up another. Stepping faster, he was there in less than ten minutes, perspiring with more vigor, and breathless. He didn’t think he’d need water for this. Not for a dream. Didn’t think it’d be sunny, or like a day in any way.
The signpost was in the center of a large gold-bricked circle. Arrow shaped signs. About a hundred of them. No, more than that. Maybe a thousand. Different colors, languages, and printing styles. Looked crude. Homemade.
His little nocturnal visitor sounded like an irritated teacher when they said, “I’m tired of you sitting around, whining, waiting, and wishing, so I’m doing you a solid.”
They pointed. “See that?”
Slow because he was half-asleep, he pressed to see what the little one meant even though the little one was still talking. “Get in there and turn left for the past, right for the future, or straight ahead to another existence. Whichever way you go, you’ll come to a signpost.
“You better hurry if you’re going to do it. The portal will close and fade, and your opportunity will be gone.”
“Wait, what?” He sat up. Yawned. Stretched. Rubbed his eyes. Massaged his genitals. Considered peeing. Frowned. “What?”
His small visitor was barely a fading memory. The opening remained where there was usually a wall. A portal? Thinking, I must still be dreaming and I’ll wake up at any moment, he entered the opening. Fearing the future, regretting his past – too many things to change there and who knows how it would turn out – he’d gone straight.
He stared up at the signs. Words emerged. Animals.
A frown creased his face. What was that about? He’d always liked cats and they liked him. He admired birds. Dogs were okay…
He stepped in the cat’s direction with slow, short steps. Shivers tickled him. Changes took place. His fingers were gone. Paws halfway through construction had replaced them. Looked like he’d be a black cat.
He backed up. More shivers traveling him, his fingers returned.
Did he want to be a cat? He looked back down the road he’d followed to come here with the thought, maybe he should have gone to the past to see what he could have changed. He might have been hasty.
The road was gone. Nothing was there. Gray nothing.
He walked toward it. The gray nothing stopped him from advancing. Like trying to wade through stiffening tar.
Well, what the hell. This was only a dream.
He turned back to the sign and read the offerings. No doubt, that’s what they were. Unicorn. Whale. Elephant. Dog. Kracken. Dolphin.
Dragon, he saw.
Dragon. It’d be so cool to be a dragon, even if just in a dream.
But bravery wasn’t in his personal inventory. He stood, staring, considering, flounder, eel, coral snake, eagle – eagle would be fun. Puma. Tiger. Heron. Emu. Alligator.
No. With all of his fears and hopes, the best thing he could become is something fantastic.
Happy with his decision, he turned and advanced, shivering and coughing as he grew and changed until at last he walked out of a high mountain cave into a purple dusk. Spreading his golden wings, he released a fiery roar and felt the world’s fear. Yes, being a dragon was going to be so cool.
Even if it was just in a dream.
Infloofdescent
Infloofdescent (floofinition) – Growing in the number of floofs.
In use: “It began innocently, let’s get a dog, but then their daughter wanted a cat, a turtle was requested by their son, and a pregnant cat showed up begging for food, and that was it, the infloofdescent was on.”
Thursday’s Theme Music
Sunshine and thunderstorms are today’s specials. Toaster waffles are on the breakfast plate. Coffee on the side.
It was cool today, Thursday, May 18, 2023, but it’s warming. Started at 54 F. Now 67 F on its way to 84 F. Sun shooed night out before six AM. Night will push back tonight around 8:15 PM.
We’re still holding our breaths about election results. Measure 15-214, which I voted against, is failing at the moment, but it’s by less than 1%. Like many issues, we’re narrowly divided around here.
We’re also celebrating the case against Rudy Giuliani, worrying about fires in Canada and flooding in Italy, and despairing about too many things to write about.
For today’s theme music, I decided to ignore The Neurons’ input and go with the splashy Eurovision winner, “Tattoo” by Lorreen. It’s a dramatic, interesting song and video, catches attention and doesn’t let up. It’s a love song, but not sunny love, a reflection of the modern realization that emotions are tangled and hard to control.
Time to eat and drink up. Stay pos and champion yourself. Here’s the music. Cheers
Wednesday’s Wandering Thought
Among the many differences between him and his wife were how the butter knives were put in the dishwasher. She always put the He figured that since the dishwasher utensil basket’s design dictated that the spoons and forks had to go in handle down, putting the knives’ handles down made sense. All handles down. Uniform, standardized, and probably the ay to get them clean, since that’s how it was set up for the other utensils to be cleaned.
She always put the butter knives in with the handles up. He pointed out his reasoning. She responded, “It doesn’t matter.”
Probably didn’t, but he remained mildly annoyed.
Just mildly.
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Delicious weather in Ashlandia today. Spring at its best. 67 F at the mo, 75% humidity. 88 F expected later, and thunderstorms. Yesterday was delightful, too, relaxing, comforting, an invitation to sit and enjoy yourself for a while. It’s so floofriendly. Tucker has settled but open doors and happy weather invites Papi to prance in and out. He steals up to me, stares up, gets an ear rub from moi, then dashes out, only to return. Sometimes I chase and hide, which he loves doing.
The election is over. We await the outcome. 15-214, which absorbed our attention and discussion, is predictably tight but votes are still being counted.
Today’s music fell into my lap. I’d been sent a video link about tiny computers a teacher was asking my beer group to buy for their class. This video was off to the right. “Two of Us” from 1969 is by the Beatles. The song is pretty lazy but I enjoyed the footage of the lads from Liverpool and others laughing, joking, talking. Nostalgia caught The Neurons, so here we are.
And the coffee has arrived to great cheering from the body and its various elements. Most vociferous cheering is heard from the brain, where neurons are stamping their feet, chanting, “Coffee, coffee, coffee.” The foot stamping is off-putting to the ears, who are gesturing with annoyance at the brain. But in general, it’s a festive air.
Stay pos. Assess, adjust, advance. Here’s the tune. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 