Month: September 2023

Friday’s Theme Music

Posting note: once again victimized by WordPress; post went into autosaving mode and never left it. Had to start over, once again. And then, one more time. Sigh. Tech can be capricious but conversely, where would we be without the dang stuff?

Mood: variable, sunny to moody to frustrated to pensive

W-1. Wedding is tomorrow night. Tonight is the meet n’ greet cocktail gig. Don’t know who will attend, so anticipation has a ragged edge. Several sisters and their spouses bowed out. Bummer but they have issues they’re dealing with, such as preparing for surgery or dealing with a teenage son dealing with his newfound health issues. The son loved playing basketball; now, due to fits of dizziness caused by medication used to combat seizures, he can’t play b-ball. His weight has ballooned by twenty pounds and he’s of course, depressed. Not a good place for a fourteen year old or his parents and family.

We’ve moved hotels. The first, a Holiday Inn Express, was chosen for easy access to family and familiarity with the area, Monroeville and Penn Hills. Now we’ve shifted to the Hyatt House in Shadyside, where the wedding will be.

Weather here continues to be big sun and cool air, a pleasant, refreshing, relaxing combo. Sounds like a drink advertisement: “Drink weather, a pleasant, refreshing, relaxing flavor that your body and mind will love.”

Still reeling from the Libya flooding disaster. We just seem to pivot from disaster to disaster: within the past few weeks we surfed from Hawaii’s fires to Morocco’s quakes (over twelve thousand dead) to Hurricane Lee to Libya’s flooding (over one thousand dead) to the tropical storm formerly known as Lee, with some domestic and political drama (auto worker strikes, Hunter Biden’s legal issues, China’s missing defense minister) sprinkled over it to add depths.

Los Neurons have activated Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers with “The Waiting” (1981) in the morning mental music stream (Trademark unheard of). It’s fitting. Although well-practiced in waiting (I’m 67, been married over 48 years, and was in the military for over twenty years, things which all reinforced the need to wait for things to happen), I’m not good at it. After months of slow pacing toward the day, acceleration exploded this week. Suddenly days are falling off the cliff and the moment is here. But that sort of time change happens with many things we’re anticipating, doesn’t it.

Stay pos and be strong, and try to stay sober. I’ll do the same. Hand me that coffee, wouldja? Here’s the beats. Cheers

0

Floofsick

Floofsick (floofinition) – Missing a fur friend, and thinking about them, no matter what the circumstances.

In use: “Being away from his floofjoys, M would think of them each morning, hoping they were okay, trying to think brainwaves to them to reassure them he would be returning soon.”

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: brisk

It’s W-2: two days before the wedding. The women have been comparing dresses and shoes for the event and talking about their hair.

Men have been complaining about how their clothes fit.

Nervous excitement is burgeoning.

It’s September 14, 2023, in the burgh of Pitts, Pennsylvania. Lovely fallish weather with a low 70s F high. Sweeet. Family visits have been fun. Instructional. We catch up on matters of health and recent experiences, with a common refrain about how conversational matter has changed through the years; we used to talk about many other matters. We still do, but the proportions have shifted. Mom looks good, better than expected from the daily text message complaints and updates she provides. My sisters and their hubbies look well, healthy, happy, but that defies some of the topics and details they go into.

My wife and I are enjoying a swell time, although sharing a bathroom demonstrates privilege and how we’ve taken for granted having two bathrooms to spread out and do our morning things. With one BR, regimenting and rationing time and functions is required. We’re used to two places, where it can all be done in parallel, without interference from the other.

For a while, The Neurons entertain me with the song “Sisters” by Irving Berlin from 1954 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark laughable). Both parts were sung by Rosemary Clooney. I know the words well because both Mom and my wife would sing that song, although I’ve never heard the two of them sing it together. It’s a terrific ditty about love and relationships.

But those those Neuron scamps brought up D. Bowie with “Changes” from 1972, because, you know, I’m driving around the old life zones from my youth around Penn Hills and Monroeville, spotting changes and differences, right?

Stay pos, be strong and brave, and keep pressing forward. I’ll try doing the same. Coffee helps me on my journey. Hope you got something that helps you, too. Okay, pressing on. Here’s the beats. Cheers

0

A Writing Camp Dream

I was at a drama and writing camp. Maybe forty others were present. I didn’t know anyone else. Some of them knew one another. Ages ranged from mid-twenties to mid-sixties. Though I’m a RL 68, I’m around 40 here. It’s a rustic sort of setting.

One of the more popular people is a younger, dramatic person. A large black dog accompanies her everywhere. While we’re at one of our outdoor gatherings milling around, her dog eyes me, and then cuts through the crowd to visit with me. So does a cat. The dog’s actions surprises everyone. After a friendly visit with him, he returns to his person. The cat rolls around and is given affection.

The oldest person there comes to me with a sword. I’m not a sword expert but it reminds me of a US Civil War calvary officer saber. He points it at me at first, talking about it a while, and then presents it to me for my inspection. I’m mystified and leery by what he’s doing. It seems a little off center and nutty. He sort of brusquely pouts and asks for me to give him back his sword. Naturally, I do and he walks away. Okay, fine.

Well, sometime during the night (in the dream), I then write a long short-story about the woman with the dog and the man with the sword. I don’t know how but others come to me, explaining that they’d heard I’d written a short story. They wrote something too, and they think that we can combine the work. The woman with the dog knows about it, too, although she only knows me as the guy who dog went to. But, since her dog likes and trusts me, she wants to work with me.

So I agree, and then sit and edit, rewrite, and revise, adding more, and breaking the story up into four parts. Four us, including the women with the dog, come together to read and combine what another guy has written. They start reading it aloud, and the rest of the camp comes to listen, including the man with the sword. When he hears it, he comes to me to have his part expanded and reveals some things to me.

With the black dog and the cat beside me, I quickly revise and write more. Everyone is really pleased by the results. People are telling me, “I think you nailed it.” They want to know what else I’ve written, and are giving me other ideas for story, because they think I’d be the best person to write it.

Dream end

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: watchful

Tuesday, September 12, 2023. At the airport. 5:05 AM, bracing myself against the chilly night air. Dawn is haranguing the eastern darkness. We were picked up at 4:20, deposited here at 4:45, waiting for our flight now. Seems to be on time. Travelers trapped in drowsy amber drag bags, watching, listening, killing time, anxiously fidgeting. My wife and I settle and chat. Worries and anxieties are voiced on her end. I do what I can to reassure her. I’ve traveled a lot, usually alone, and just roll as I need to. She tends to work herself up into indignation and irritation.

The Neurons are playing “Leaving on A Jet Plane”. John Denver. Mama Cass. Peter, Paul, and Marry.

Of course The Neurons are playing this. What else would they be playing? Well, they’re The Neurons, so that query is wholly hypothetical. They shift to “Silver Bird”. Mark Lindsay. “Jet Airliner” – Steve Miller – comes up, which is then replaced by Pink Floyd, “Learning to Fly”. “The Letter” by The Four Tops – “Give me a ticket for an aeroplane” – supersedes it, then it’s another “Learning to Fly”, this time by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. “Come Fly with Me”, Frank Sinatra follows.

I’m reminded of how it used to be to fly, when friends, relatives, lovers would escort people down to the gate. Can’t do that these days. That’s all left beyond the security’s other side.

Then a woman tells the child with her, “Come here, stand by me.” And that changes where The Neurons are hanging around. Let that, I hear “Stand By Me”, but it’s the version made by “Playing for Change”. Okay, I’ll take that, Neurons. If I can ever harness their energy, I might be able to get more done.

So here we are, and there we go, today’s theme music. I’m looking forward to getting on the aircraft and going back to sleep as we wing down to SFO from southern Oregon. Then, after I board that next flight, I’ll indulge in a cuppa joe. Just a few more minutes and boarding will begin.

Stay pos, test negative, be strong, and remain on course. Time to board. Here’s the tune. See ya. Cheers

2

Infloofuation

Infloofuation (floofinition) An intense but brief, highly charged exchange of affection between two animals or between a human and animal.

In use: “When the dog met the cat, serious infloofuation happened, with the dog wagging his entire body and the cat throwing herself, rolling around and purring while the dog licked her exposed belly.”

0

WTF, Again

It’s time once again for WTF, Again, also sometimes called WTF, America. This is a New Mexico edition.

A white family experienced an emergency when a speeding car hit their pet dog. Jumping into the car with the injured animal, they raced for the nearest vet in an attempt to save their beloved animal. Enroute, they sped past a police car, who gave pursuit and pulled them over.

William Albrecht was driving. According to KRQE’s excellent reporting, he didn’t expect what happened next.

“I imagined if he was going to pull me over for speeding, I’d pull over,” Albrecht told KRQE. “He’d say something to me and then maybe even help us get there. You know, I’ve heard of stories like that before, but that didn’t happen.”

No, that didn’t happen. According to video, the police showed no sympathy and little concern for anything except enforcing their police power. The officer ordered Albrecht out of the car at gunpoint and made him kneel. The officer wasn’t interested in what was going on at all. He just wanted Albrecht to do what he was told, reporting that he felt threatened because Albrecht seemed enraged and had clenched fists in the air.

Note that no video support the officer’s story.

More officers were called to the scene, of course, because this unarmed white man and his wife and son were so damn scary, and Albrecht was handcuffed, of course.

Albrecht was especially distraught because they always ‘support the blue’ and feel that they’d done nothing to warrant this police reaction. It’s easy to imagine that if Albrecht was black, he might have been shot, because it’s happened to so many others. I imagine, too, that the city and police force will stand behind the officer and the wall of blue, and many citizens will support the police, because they support the blue.

According to KRQE, ‘BPD’s policy does call for de-escalation, stating, “the level of force employed must be commensurate with the threat posed by the subject and the seriousness of the situation.”. Yes the BPD police officer was clearly working hard to de-escalate that situation, wasn’t he? His situational awareness was just top notch.

Sadly, the dog passed away, a young boy had a traumatic moment compounded because the officer showed no empathy or concerns, and a family has come to understand why fewer people ‘support the blue’. I’m sorry for the family’s loss.

3

The Writing Moment

I’m forced to my secondary coffee ship for my writing day because the primary is too busy. It’s a case of ‘good for them’ but also, ‘damn it’, which results in a ‘c’est le vie’ tie.

In the secondary, I’m reduced to my tertiary favorite spot. I call it ‘The Chilly Corner’ because it’s the chilliest space in the coffee shop. Poor planning on my end means I don’t have a piece of fleece to put on, as I often carry, even on the hottest of days. These places love to chill out, ha-ha.

Whenever I come to the chilly corner, though, The Neurons call up Henry James’s short story, “The Jolly Corner”. In a way, it’s apt; I come here to meet and work with my writing alter ego. There hasn’t been any hauntings yet, beyond what the muses come and tell me. I have had altercations with my alter ego, who sometimes complains he’d like to be out doing something else.

Too bad for him. Fortunately for me, he’s not overpowered me. I suppose I should add, not yet.

0

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood:

Good day to you from Ashlandia, where the road construction continues as we move into autumn’s waters.

It’s 9/11, and you know what that means in 2023. It’s also a Monday. Everyone will be looking back on the 9/11 part. We’ve already had 60Minutes do it. No doubt, that brave journalistic effort will be repeated with solemn broadcasts across the country. Some will probably speculate, could 9/11 happen in America today? Others will remember how the tragedy ‘brought the country together’. More will point out that many of the security measures installed after 9/11 were kneejerk reactions that created the cumbersome Homeland Security. Another faction will discuss the intelligence failures and whether we’ve fixed that while more pundits will write that, noting how Americans reacted to fear, the GOP has seized on fear as their Big Tool for getting voters’ attention and scaring them into supporting the GOP. The GOP will blow things out of proportion and flat lie to that end in these days. We have the videos.

So, first, a correction; I’d seen a weather report that said we were going to be climbing into the upper nineties in our area. I don’t know if I imagined that or if they changed it, but that’s all gone. We’re going to stay mostly in the 80s F. Today we’re at 60 F and we’ll hit 82 F. It’s good tedium to have these manageable, predictable temps.

Sirens are going by down on the main road. I listen and wonder about the story behind them. They stop abruptly; I listen and watch to see if they come up our street. Muses in me automatically created a speculative vignette about what’s going on. My rational mind wonders, what type of vehicle is driving that siren. Worries about fires and friends butterfly around my head.

Flying out tomorrow, so we have prep work underway today. Packing, final cleaning, final coordination with the house/floof sitter. She’s a good friend and good person who enjoys floofs. We’re lucky to have her. It’ll be a day of traveling tomorrow, beginning pre-dawn thirty, flying across the nation from left coast to where the three rivers meet in western Pennsylvania. We’ll be there a while with a wedding in the middle of the visit this weekend.

The Neurons are feeding “A Day in the Life” by les Beatles (1967) into the morning mental music stream (Trademark in jeopardy). The lyrics also hooked my mind and take me into more introspective places. I’ve always thought it was a telling commentary on different points of view with one enjoying drugs, shaking their head at the endless news stream, and the other just dealing with the mechanics of existing and working, doing little thinking about anything outside of that. To those end, I considered it a yin and yang statement on where we are as a modern civilization. But that’s just me. The more existential question is, what are The Neurons up to, feeding this into me? Well, this time my guess is about watching and reading the news and noting others’ reactions to these cycles. They tune in and tune out; and I do the same.

Off to wage peace on the day. Stay pos, be strong, and keep chill. Coffee mug is warming my hand whenever I pause, sipped and gulped to stir the gray beings populating my brain. There must be billions of them. Here’s the music. Cheers

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