Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
A mental mistake. Revising today, the draft surprised me; things I thought I’d changed yesterday weren’t changed. WTH, over? Didn’t I change that? And that? Was that all a mirage, a dream, work done in a different reality.
Realization came belatedly, no, I was in the wrong draft. While working on the latest draft yesterday, I’d opened a previous draft to look something up. Well, it was the last doc closed yesterday, so it went to the top of the document list. Without thinking today, I opened it up, went to where the doc said I left off, and commenced revision. Wasn’t until I glanced at the page number and realized I was twenty pages behind that I finally seriously applied critical thinking to the moment and understood what happened.
What a rube. What a mistake. No harm; just time. But damn, I thought I did some good revising today. Hope I’ve learned a lesson and don’t do that again.
My wife said, “I’m going to wear my blue sweater that I wore the other day, but I think you can see through it in the sunlight.”
I answered, “You can.”
“You could see through it?”
“Yes.”
“You could see through it but you chose not to say anything?”
“You’re very fashion aware. It’s a loose knit sweater. I thought you knew.”
Eyes rolling, throwing her hands up, she stormed off. I shrugged, guessing, I must be the asshole for not saying anything, and then reflecting on the entire process one more time.
We didn’t stay angry long; after being together for over fifty-two years as friends and everything else, we don’t stay angry. Act out or vent, move on. She came out, ready to go. She wasn’t wearing the blue sweater in question but a light blue sweater. I said, sincerely, “You look nice.”
She grinned at me. “Not see through?”
“Totally opaque,” I replied.
Mood: focused
It’s Tuesday morning in Ashlandia, where the sky is blue and the trees are green. September 5, 2023, we’re teetering between summer and autumn here. 49 F upon rising, it’s now 58 F and heading for the low eighties. Trees haven’t begun turning yet but the air’s smell and feel seem shifted. Peaches are harvested from friends and neighbors’ places, and damn were they awesome. No cherries this year; didn’t work out weather-wise.
Had to drop off my car at the mech’s this morn. I’d had new pads, etc., installed in the rear, and the car developed this strange groaning. Took it back to the mech; they found a rock stuck in the caliper. That should fix it, no charge.
It didn’t.
So, I took it back and requested the mechanic drive around with me so he could hear it. He concluded it might be the bearings in the hub assembly. So they’re putting ears on the chassis, which sounds neat. They’re listening devices which can be isolated so you can define where the sound is originating. They’ll hopefully find and fix the cause today.
Anyway, that process forced me out of my rhythm. Had to have early AM coffee. Now I’m catching up. The Neurons are firing but have brought up “Beth” by KISS (1976) where it whirls around the morning mental music stream (Trademark outstanding). I’ve searched for reasons for the song and interrogated Les Neurons, but none of them will confess why they chose that song. Only thing that came to mind was that the singer is focused and struggling with a creative endeavor, suffering isolation and separation to achieve their end. I identify with that when I’m writing and my world focus draws in to go work on the book.
I’ll make it through. Hope you do, too. Stay pos, be strong, work it out. More coffee is due. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 