Garbage Dream

I’m outside, kinda young. Rolling deep green grass, where a music festival is due to start. I’m excited about it but worried about unspecified stuff. I’m alone, don’t know anyone there. A few others are starting to arrive. They’re all younger, with my teenagers among them, mostly female.

I’m busy, though, boxing up containers of trash. Collecting it, putting it in boxes, sealing it up. Don’t know why I’m specifically doing it; seems to be a compulsion. People keep arriving but I keep boxing up trash. By the time I’m done, hundreds have arrived, and I have about thirty small, square boxes of trash.

I need a place to put them, and that worries me. I have some of them stacked on a small peeling white trailer which is attached to a small green minibike like one I had in my early teens. I plan to use the bike to pull the trailer and unload the garbage boxes somewhere else, but where?

There is a small white frame house. Single story, white siding, two windows on the front, a screen door in its center. I know that this is the office of the young men organizing the music festival. There are three, dark-haired young white men in their early twenties. I know this without seeing them. I can hear them talking and laughing. Part of their conversation is about me and my minibike pulling the scarred white trailer loaded with boxes of trash.

Piles of trash are not far from the house. I’m thinking about unloading my trash into this collection, but I feel guilty, as if I’m breaking a law, and that holds me back. Yet, racing around, watched by a growing number of people, I can’t find anywhere else to put the trash. I feel like this is my only choice.

Aware that I’m being watched, that others are commenting about what I’m doing, I try pulling my trailer of trash. It won’t go. I reattach the green minibike with its fat knobby tires. The little bike easily tugs the trailer across the way.

From inside the trailer, I hear the organizers discuss this development. One suggest, “It’s alright, let him be.” I feel better about that. I start unloading the trailer. People are commenting about how fast and hard I’m working. Some appreciate that I’ve cleaned up trash. Buoyed by what I hear, I quickly unload the trailer, drive back, and fill it again. Now finished, I stand still, sweating and breathing hard by my little minibike and its empty white trailer.

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: blllleeeack

I’m sitting in the house, staring at that air. Don’t need the air qual folks to know that’s hazardous stuff. Step out and you’re on a beach by a bonfire and a dull breeze is blowing the smoke into your face. We have fires to the south, north, west, and now east. Picked up one a few days ago. Whereas an easterly wind was delivering fresh breaths to us, now the wind from any direction carries smoke.

Fires to the south, in NorCal, are the most problematic, because that’s rough country. Power was cut to Crescent City, CA, out of worry, so they’re without over there on the coast. Up Highway 101 in Oregon, hotels and motels are full and price gouging is in full swing. Supply and demand.

And there go the trash people, picking up our refuse in this stuff. It’s early for them, so I think they’re hustling through it to get out of it.

Haven’t seen the sun yet. It’s light, so we know it’s out there. 59 F, it’s a chilly morning, post-night rain. No petrichor last night; just wet bonfire.

It’s Tuesday in Ashlandia, where the problems are real and the solutions are few. But that can be said for many places, yeah?

August 22, 2023. We as a people are gearing up for many things but that’s life, isn’t it? Gearing up. Getting ready. Preparing for the next big thing.

Smoke songs had Les Neurons by the throat this AM when I looked out and saw the situation. The morning mental music stream (Trademark iffy) boiled with smoke songs. Give it a second; hear any in your head? No “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes”? Or “Smoke on the Water”? “Smoke From a Distant Fire”? “Smoke Two Joints”?

I told Der Neurons, “Don’t give me that stuff. I’m turning away from it.” Which started them on turning songs, like Pink Floyd, “On the Turning Away”. “No; that’s not what I meant,” I interjected. “I want clean air. Sunshine.” “Annie’s Song” began. “Closer. Think beach. Ocean. Water.” The Neurons came up with Jack Johnson, “Upside Down” (2006). I owe this to the line, “I wanna turn the whole thing upside down.” Noble sentiment, isn’t it? A world upside down for us would be a world where we’re working together as a species, caring for our planet, one another, and the animals, indivisible by borders, politics, wealth, religion, race, and gender. I always thought that’s what the US was aiming for, “One nation, indivisible.” Yeah, I left out the ‘under God’ aspect. I don’t put God into government.

Be strong and stay pos. Judging from my own balance today, it’s a challenge. Maybe coffee will help. One, two, three, what are fighting for? Oh, wait, wrong moment.

Here’s the music. Cheers

Flipday’s Theme Music

Mood: streaky

Hey, it’s flip day. Monday, August 27, 2023. Call it flip day. Happens to be a Monday, but it’s a day when you flip your energies from weekend mode – or time-off setting – to business mode or work setting. It’s a state of mind. For me, this day is about businesses being open so I can call and make appointments to get matters attended.

Nature is having its way with us on the west coast. Count among the issues, fires, thunderstorms with lightning strikes, tropical storm with heavy rain, and earthquakes. Asteroid strike and Godzilla are missing but they could show up at any minute.

Ashlandia, where the deer roam everywhere and bears and cougars are frequent visitors, is cool and humid now. After smoke in the morning and in and out of the day, a rainstorm squatted over us and dumped a solid wet load. Struck the temperature down from the eighties into the low seventies like the current GOP taking down the last fifty years of progress.

So, 66 here. Supposed to clip mid-eighties today. Hints of smoke playing with the sky’s color, blending with the clouds, and striking our olfactory nerves. Several hundred lightning strikes recorded in our region this weekend. A few started fires. Those are being attended. Can’t get an update. Net keeps dropping on us. Been out a dozen times in the last twenty-four. Probably the storms, right?

My assumption is that the storms are wonkifying the net connections. Funny how the ancient diagnostics built into this Windows-based system assumes otherwise. They’re about checking your connections. Plugging in an ethernet connection. Checking your adapter. Making sure you’re not in sleep mode or your wireless is turned off. Like, when was the last time that these were problems? In my purview, the problems are generally outside of my walls; it’s the net down, and typically due to weather or power outages somewhere.

To deal with the outages, I’m writing posts in Word with the hope that a connection will come and I can post them. If you’re reading this, that worked. Update to that: went to the coffee shop. They have a connection. So what’s up at my house? Something to pursue once I go home.

Would it surprise anyone to hear that Les Neurons are feeding the morning mental music stream (Trademark stormy) with music about weather? There’s “Stormy” by Classics IV, and that blues staple, “Stormy Monday”, along with songs that feature rain, like “Here Comes the Rain Again” by the Eurythmics, and that one by Guns ‘n Roses, “Sweet Child of Mine”, and its lines about a woman’s hair:

“Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place, where as a child I’d hide. And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by.”

Then we had B.J. Thomas (“Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head”). CCR offered a few songs about rain. The Beatles had one. “Fire and Rain”, James Taylor, very appropriate. Elvis. GNR again with “November Rain.” Can we overlook Prince and “Purple Rain” or that ancient classic, “Singing in the Rain”? My Neurons didn’t. How ‘bout “Laughter in the Rain”, “It’s Raining Men”, and “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain”? That’s just a drop in the rain bucket. I’m sure your neurons are peppering your thoughts with more.

But in a quiet moment, as the clouds were contemplated and the humid cool air threw itself against my face, came Gordon Lightfoot with “Rainy Day People” (1975). Cuz there’s a line, there, “Rainy day people all know it hangs on a piece of mind.”

Okay, coffee has landed. Stay pos, be strong, and have a good flipday. Fingers crossed and positive thoughts for all the peoples of the world dealing with weather disasters. Here’s the music. Cheers

Smokeday’s Theme Music

Mood: weary

Sunday, August 20, 2023. Ashlandia, where the sky tries to stay blue but the smoke rolls in from the south. 74 degrees F, eyeing 88 F as the heat’s top end.

Smoke is back. Air is filthy. Very unhealthy to hazardous. Easterly wind blowing but it’s so light, leaves are barely stirred, and the smoke mocks the effort. Not as bad as the other morning; the sun displays some semblance of its standard morning coloring. Depressing is rolling in. Coughing. Stuffed up noses. Watering, itchy eyes.

The cats aren’t pleased, neither, confined to quarters, their normal routines halted. Forced change is not fun. Well, Tucker is okay with it. He’s older and is, okay, fine, I’ll just nap in here. But Papi sometimes breaks into crys of freedom. Then I tell him no and he walks off.

In another of those WTF America stories, a woman, mother of nine, the story says, was shot and killed by a man angered by the rainbow flag on display at her store. Senseless.

Weather eye on Hurricane Hilary and California. Fire eye on Hawaii and their recovery. Fire eye also on California, Canada, and Oregon. Heat eye on most of the US.

The Neurons loaded the morning mental music stream (Trademark preposterous) with Ricky Martin, “Livin’ La Vida Loca”. Song came out in 1999. I mostly remember it from my Paris business trip a year, maybe two, later, when I went about singing living la vida mocha. Yes, I am a silly person. Figure it’s a good song for this era, when it all seems a bit crazy. I can speculate that most eras had people thinking that it’s a little nuts outside.

Speaking of mocha, I’m havin’ my coffee now. Stay pos, be strong, maybe have a little fun. Pretend it’s life and it’s worth living, even if you live it a little crazy. Here’s the tune. Cheers

Floof-fi

Floof-fi (floofinition) Fiction focused on animals and their struggles, lives, and relationships.

In use: The Art of Racing In the Rain and Life of Pi are modern examples of floof-fi — both adapted into movies — but his favorite remained May Sarton’s book, The Fur Person, about Tom Jones, a stray who takes up life with Sarton and her partner.”

Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: thankful

Thankful this morning, for the firefighters around the world fighting fires, including those fighting fires in Oregon and California. Thankful for a lot of things which I have and enjoy, including good health, comfort, and security. Thankful, too, for the easterly wind which took the smoke out of our end of the valley. I’m cognizant that our good fortune is now someone else’s misfortune. Smoke goes somewhere as long as the fires burn.

The hourglass called Saturday, August 18, 2023, is running. Sands are pouring through it. The sands of August and the sands of 2023 are also rushing through through glasses. Guess they’re not truly hourglasses; just time glasses. Do they measure time’s passing, or are these mythical things creating time for us?

It’s a cool morning. A little smoke still crazes the sky’s blue facade and discolors small patches but the sun is the right color. 63 F was the overnight low. We’re up to 70 F now but will climb to 92 F in Ashlandia, where the political differences could be called the Deer Party and the Dog Party. Then there’s the Parks Party. DeP, Dop, and PaP.

The cats are so pleased that smoke vacated the area and cool air rides the day. After making morning rounds of the year, they staked out positions, washed, and settled into napping configurations.

I’m looking forward to the GOP debate coming up. First, I’m impressed that the GOP has verified that it’s about money; only those gaining enough monetary donations are able to participate. I guess the theory is, the potential candidates put themselves out there and convince people to give to more their candidacy forward. Works on a built-in assumption that all donors have the same power and money to give, contrary to the reality we’ve seen perpetually demonstrated since the age of capitalism began. But who are we to attempt to force reality onto the GOP? That, demonstratively, no longer works.

Although, fairness, the GOP is not homogeneous. The NYTimes published an article about the GOP’s factions this week. They included estimates about how much of the GOP each faction made up. While many have held that five factions dominate the GOP, the NYT identified six ‘types’ of voters in the GOP. The interesting aspect of reading this is that while they specify only 36% of GOP members support Trump, they show by their groupings that only one, Moderate Establishment, which accounts for 14% of the party, is the only Never Trump group. Dominated by an alliance between Trump’s biggest support factions, the Right Wing and the he rest either enthusiastically endorse Trump or they’re willing to swallow it and support him because they either agree with his positions or because they like him more than they like Democrats. Not really that different from Democrats and their position on President Biden.

For music, The Neurons have fed “Crossroads” by Cream (1968) into the morning mental music stream (Trademark fishy). This is their cover and interpretation of Robert Johnson’s “Cross Roads Blues”, layering it with a faster tempo and hard rock sound. I figure it’s right for this day, these times, when every day in the US seems to be about being at some kind of cross roads regarding the rule of law, ethics, democracy, climate change, etc. The rest of the world also seems at cross roads about multiple matters as well; some are the same as the ones affecting us in the US. So it’s a good song for t’day.

Have coffee, will travel. Be brave, be strong, be positive, and keep on being you. Here’s the music. Cheers

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