Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofidecimal System (floofinition) – Process by which animals can make them seem like they weigh ten times as much as their normal weight or appear to ten times their actual size.
In use: “Marcia loved sleeping with her dog and twin felines but they often used the floofidecimal system and end up taking over the entire bed, leaving a small edge for her to use.”
It was a short one. I was young again. Looked like I was in my twenties.
Hustling along through a building, I passed through a doorway and down a short fight of steps. In there were many friends and co-workers. (I realized on awakening that all were male.)
I don’t know how many were there. None of these people have been seen in the last dozen years, and most haven’t been seen or spoken with since the last century.
We were all wearing tee shirts, the sort worn to support sports teams and rock bands. All were young like me. Several of us took seats in a semi-circle around a fire pit which had no fire. Others took seats behind us. We were talking, joking, laughing, playing tricks on one another and just acting silly. I recognized at least Jeff, Gil, Ray, Jim. An ex-brother-in-law was seated beside me on my right. Gil was two seats over on my left.
A man began playing guitar and singing. Dressed in black trimmed with silver, he was seated in a chair off to one side, an amplifier beside him. Despite the amp, he played and sang low. We all needed to stay silent to hear him. The song was his own composition, I was told by another. I don’t remember any of the lyrics or melodies. I remember thinking that he could be a professional. Gil said, “It’s like we’re at a concert.” Ian answered, “We are at a concert.” That exchange brought out some chuckling.
The concert ended. We all stood, socializing. Jeff, who I saw earlier, came in. He was wearing a different tee shirt. It had Roberto Clemente’s likeness and number on it. Clemente had been my childhood hero. Grinning, I went to Jeff and said, “Hello, Roberto.”
Jeff was much smaller than I remembered him being. He was taller than me in RL. Although he looked as he did back when we worked together, he was now a foot shorter. “Hello,” he answered, grinning.
Dream end.
Mood: pensive
To begin this day, once upon a time in Ashlandia — actually, we can be more specific. To begin this day, once upon Thursday, July 27, 2023, in Ashlandia, where the dogs and the deer struggle to get along and both avoid the bears, there were two cats named Papi and Tucker. Sorry, that’s all I have.
A cool 68 F air holds sway in our dominion. 88 F is the anticipated high for the day, continuing Ashlandia’s trend for a mellow, less heated summer, knock on wood (I use my head as a substitute, when called for). While my weather system shows two days over triple diggies have been reached this year, the official records say, nope, hasn’t happened. Three fires — Bedrock, Golden, and Flat — continue burning, contributing their smoke to our fresh air, but it’s not been much of a factor thus far, knock head. Hope the dedicated firefighters can get them contained and done soon. Bet they’re hoping the same. Hard life, fighting wildfires, according to five friends who did or do it for their employment.
Not much on the agenda for the moment, which is superfine, yeah? A dream inspired The Neurons (motto: “We don’t know and we don’t care”) to upload “Say You, Say Me” by Lionel Richie, 1985 to the morning mental music stream (trademark laughable). He was The Man for romantic music in the 1980s, and his album, Can’t Slow Down, was huge. We were living in Columbia, SC, at that time while I was stationed at Shaw AFB, but I was traveling a lot, mostly to Africa, but also to Europe and Florida. It’s just an association, you know? “Say You, Say Me” and the 1985 travels.
Time to start up and go. The Neurons have now begun “Kickstart My Heart” by Mötley Crüe (1989 – livin’ in Germany then) in the morning mental music stream. So it goes. Stay pos, be strong, remain hopeful and optimistic, and persist. Ah, there’s my coffee. Here is the music. Cheers, my friends.
He’d been walking on a sidewalk, going up a hill, when a passing van’s music blasted him.
He knew that song — rock, yes — but his mind refused to give up the song’s title or the band’s name. Even more of the song was denied him. The same seven seconds kept swirling through his mental music stream.
It was going to tear up his mind. He needed to find enough to remember it or look it up. Based on his current rate of remembering, it’d probably be sometime on Friday or Saturday before he remembered.
Efloofzable (floofinition) Easily beguiled or manipulated by an animal.
In use: “Everyone knew Bonnie was so efloofzable; a doe-eyed look from her dog, a smile from her cat, or the brush of fur against her skin stopped everything else as she asked her fur friends what they wanted and how she could make them happy.”
If I could remember what I wanted to say –
It was something about the stuff in this drawer. It’s just –
I’ve never had any real use for this drawer. It was, you know…extra. So I started putting things in it. Odd stuff. All this was supposed to be temporary but a lot of it’s been in here for years. I don’t know what it’s all from. Screws leftover from things I installed. Never like to throw away screws. Never know when you’ll need a screw just like this one. Screwdriver, of course. I was looking for that. It’s supposed to be in my tool box. Or these pens. Old gum. Gum’s probably been in here ten years. Trident. My wife liked chewing it, so I kept some on hand for her. Don’t need it now. Cat toys. Don’t need that, either. Last cat I had was Jury. Big black cat. Sweetest animal you’ll ever meet. He died…how long ago was that? Shoelaces. A stone. I can almost remember why I kept this little stone. Look at it. Strange blue. Round, almost oval.
Everything in here was part of a moment. It all meant something to me when I put it in here. I can’t remember any of it.
I can’t even remember what it was that I wanted to tell you. I don’t even recall why I wanted to speak.
But there was something I wanted to say.
I just can’t remember. It feels like I should.
Mood: low-energy. Don’t know if that qualifies as ‘mood’. Feels like my batteries are blinking with a ‘recharge now’ message. Or maybe I just have the Wednesdays.
Yes, Wednesday, July 26, 2023, pulled into Ashlandia, where the skies are not cloudy today. Low was in the upper fifties this morning and the high will pull the numbers into the lower nineties. While the fires continue burning north, east, and south, and advisories warning us about our air quality is out, the sky is blue and the air is smoke free. If we can play keep away with the smoke, a lovely summer day will reward us.
After another dream invasion, I awoke thinking about dreams, my mind, and memories. Last night’s thinking about doors in my mind and event boundaries just before going to sleep probably contributed to that. The Neurons ended up plugging a 1967 song by The Amboy Dukes called “Journey to the Center of the Mind” into the morning mental music stream (trademark imagined). This song has a bit of prog to it — reminds me of several Moody Blues works — with a psychedelic edge. The lead guitarist knew his stuff. It’s a guy named Ted Nugent. I don’t usually share his work because I consider him repugnant. On a scale of one to ten, he goes to eleven. It’s about his interest in sex with thirteen year old girls and his comments about not every man being created equal. It’s not a question of his politics; he’s just hateful.
But we’re going with this music to satisfy Les Neurons (who just fired up “Satisfaction” by the Stones in the morning mental music stream). You be strong, safe, positive. Work it as best as you can, right?
Okay, my coffee is singing to me. Here’s the tune. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 