Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Thinking about going as a classified document for Halloween. Just putting on a costume to go to a Halloween-themed concert.
Considering other ideas as well, like a subpoena for Trump. Or The Dude (see The Big Lebowski). That last one feels like it might be right.
Austin is gone. I haven’t seen him in days.
Austin showed up earlier in 2023. Just after spring, is what I think. A white man in his mid-twenties, he appeared to be in good health. About 6′ 2″, his hair was bright, shiny copper. His shoulders were broad but he was otherwise lean, but didn’t seem very musular. His clothes, usually green or gray, the sort worn for hiking, were in excellent condition. A large backpack rested on his shoulders and back.
My interactions with him were brief and superficial. I nodded to him once and said, “Hello.” He didn’t answer. I held the door open for him another time and was rewarded with, “Thank you.” Thank you is the most I ever heard him say to anyone.
Quickly becoming a daily regular, Austin usually requested water or ordered tea. His voice was low, with a soft tone. I rarely heard him order, but saw the tea or water. He never spoke to other patrons and sat alone, sipping his drink and listening to his phone through earphones. He didn’t have a regular seat, as I do. He sat wherever there was space, stripping off his huge backback and setting it on the floor beside him. People tried to give him money several times; he always rejected it.
His routine presence intrigued me. I like watching people and observing matters. Regulars and their habits are like a weird hobby for me, which I call ‘coffee shop spotting’. I have made several friends in this way. I’ve often included aspects of what I observe in my fiction writing.
Since we’re located close to the Pacific Coast Trail (PCT), I speculated that Austin was walking it and stopping in Ashland for a break. Many hikers pass through here in that way. They’re a normal, regular sight. Many stock up on supplies, rest and clean up, pick up mail, and receive packages. I figured Austin was doing these things.
But one week became two, and two weeks expanded into several months. Austin spent the entire summer in Ashland, walking Ashland Street with his pack on his back, stopping at the coffee shop, and then going back out and walking down the street again. I never saw him anywhere else. I don’t know where he slept. He always presented a neat and clean impression.
Now he’s gone. I never met him but I worry about him. He’d become part of my daily landscape. I asked the coffee shop workers if they knew any more about him; no. Several shared my concerns and had made many of the same questions. Austin never elaborated to him about any of his plans and situation. I know that local homeless individuals tried becoming his friend, but he rebuffed him, too.
I hope he’s okay, and that he’s not same killer or something on the run, and that whatever brought him spend the summer in Ashland has been resolved in his favor. Maybe there never was anything. Perhaps he was just taking time out from his life for a while.
It shouldn’t be important to me; other people have come and gone. It’s that Austin was a regular but an enigma. That made him a puzzle.
Now he’s gone but the puzzle remains, probably never to be solved. I hope he wasn’t injured or hurt. In my mind, I’ve sent him back to the world where he started. He’s resumed his life, and is back in college.
One can hope.
Mood: chill
Good morning, fellow travelers. It’s Sunday, October 8, 2023.
Indian summer continues in Ashlandia, where the people are mostly progressive, and concern about climate change continues to rise. Today’s weather looks just like yesterday’s with sunshine and blue sky continuing its autumn takeover. Temperatures range from 56 F in the morning to 87 F in the afternoon’s final hours. I am very happy about it and hope it doesn’t end soon.
A friend’s seventieth birthday was celebrated at her house yesterday. She has two sons. It was her sons and her son’s husband, along with her other son’s boyfriend, who planned and hosted the bash.
She’s a retired botanish. As such, the taught botany at California and Oregon colleges and universities. She also worked with the forest service extensively. Naturally, that life work and its locations were dominated the guest list. Many Phds attended. Professors, BLM and forest service people were plentiful. Botanists dominated.
Let me tell you, these botanist are engaging, charming people. They love to have a good life. So we all had a good time.
The party defined The Neurons’ music selection today. I have “Get A Haircut” by George Thorogood and the Destroyers circulating in the morning mental music stream. Released in 1992, the song tells the story of a long-haired fellow who keeps receiving the advice to cut his hair and find real employment working nine to five. Thorogood didn’t write the song; that was done by Bill Birch and David Avery. Thorogood heard it while in Australia and liked it because it pretty well defined exactly what he was hearing.
The Neurons began playing it because I asked many people last night about their jobs. I enjoy drawing people on these things. For example, one woman had retired after thirty years as a librarian, even though she’d been educated to be an urban planning. After receiving her degrees, she decided that she didn’t want to be involved with urban planning. But a job was needed to pay bills, so she applied for a job as a part-time librarian. Its order and structure appealed to her. This was back in the days when people, organizations, and businesses would call the library for help on research. She especially enjoyed that. That job is rarely needed these days because corporations bought or developed their own databases, and the Internet emerged. Just fascinating to hear her recount as the slow change in her job took place over the final twenty years.
Stay pos, be strong, and keep reaching for the stars. Here’s the music. Let me go find coffee. Cheers
Airfloof (floofinition) – 1. An area secured by animals arriving by air. Origins: Europe circa 1943.
In use: “Using the walls and furniture as a floofcourse, the tabby leaped, jumped, and bounded over the other pets and landed on the bed, showing the rest how to establish an airfloof.”
In use: “Birds were natural at establishing airheads, landing in the birdbath while the cats lounged in the sun.”
2. A silly, scatterbrained, or simple-minded animal. Origins: Floof Angeles, USA, 1971
In use: “True to her reputation as an airfloof, Airy leaped up when the doorbell rang, rushed toward the door, slid to a stop halfway there to wash herself, fell over onto her side, and then trotted over to get her ball as her people answered the door, at which Airy quizzically cocked her head about what was going on.”
In use: “Attacking a ball dustbunnies, Titan slide over the side of the stairs, and then sprinted around in mad airfloof fashion before racing back up the stairs and ambushing the dustbunny ball anew.”
I turn to the news. Hamas attacked Israel with missiles. Israel declares they’re in a state of war.
A sigh builds and falls.
Here we go again. More war. As so much of it has proven so useful in the past.
Just see how it’s going for Putin after Russia attacked Ukraine.
Mood: positive
Salutations to my fellow corporeal beings. Saturday, October 7, 2023, has reached has – or we’ve reached it. Indian summer continues its presence in Ashlandia, where the children are hard-working, and the cats often nap.
I believe Indian summer has become my favorite season. It feels as if we’ve been given a reprieve from the wearying matters, like wildfire smoke, drought, excessive heat, politics, and mass murders, and we’re just allowed to be and enjoy the days. Tension and stress slide away under the blue skies and bright sunshine. Night air pulls coolness out of the mountains, dragging temperatures down into a comfortable range of upper fifties to lower sixties. The day’s sunshine and air pushing the temps back up to the upper eighties.
I just need to avoid the net to sustain this feeling. Because we know it’s all out there, and the net will deliver it to you, right or wrong, good or bad. But for now, life is beautiful.
Despite this mood and an armada of dreams, The Neurons had little in the morning mental music stream (Trademark rascally), giving up some Mark Knopfler and David Bowie. I didn’t think those songs were up to the moment, so I turned to the net.
Well, one of the Bowie songs was “Space Oddity”. While checking out a video for it, I discovered the Langley Schools Music Project. This was a series of elementary school children playing and singing rock songs in the 1970s. One recorded song is “God Only Knows” by the Beach Boys. The Langley Schools version is imperfect but sweet and innocent, a comfortable accoutrement to the weather and mood.
Hope your morning is as pleasant, relaxing, and peaceful as my own. The cats, black and white (Tucker) and bright ginger (Papi) are soaking up backyard sunshine, contentedly washing after breakfast. I think I’ll take my coffee out there with them, admire them, feel the sunshine, admire the trees — still green back there — and breathe in the clean, sweet air.
Stay pos and be strong. Here’s the music. Cheers
I had a plethora of dreams last night. This was one of the more interesting to me.
I was a younger man. I looked and acted like I was in my thirties, thirty years plus younger than my real life age. But I looked like myself from that time, tanned, thick brown hair, fit and sender.
Life was keeping me busy and active, reading, writing, playing softball and racquetball, hurrying around, doing errands and talking to people.
During all of that, I came to meet someone. I can’t describe them because I never saw them. Nor can I tell you how they sounded because I heard them, but they were speaking and not speaking.
They had interrupted what I was doing to tell me that I was part of a machine. Confusion was my reaction. Further explanations followed that they had created a machine which was wholly organic. I asked them if the were aliens but I don’t recall an answer to that question.
At that point, though, I was busy and just wanted to get on with everything and hustled off. Later, I stopped to get coffee. They accosted me to say again that I was part of the machine. I didn’t understand what they’d said, and asked for clarification. They launched a long and detailed explanation that they were using humans for many features in an organic machine which they’d created, and that I was one of two individuals who’d been selected as the brains.
While flattered, I thought they could have made a better choice for their brain than me, and told them so.
They countered that the functioning they needed from me was far above my conscious thinking level, or the subconscious. I first asked if drinking coffee with caffeine would affect the brain and the machine, and joked about their machine getting hyper from too much caffeine.
They answered that none of that affected it because the brain function they were employing was beyond an organic level.
That prompted me to retort, “Your organic machine is using parts of humans which aren’t organic?” I laughed at that.
They seriously responded, “Yes.”
I asked them if they were talking about the Id, ego, and super-ego, trying to comprehend it. They replied that it was beyond those levels as well, pushing me to ask what was beyond that level?
They asked me if I wanted to see the machine. Enthusiastially, I replied, “Sure.”
“You’re standing in it,” they replied.
Confusion and suspicions squirted up in me. I’d been outside, among trees and buildings, cars, utility wires, streets, and businesses. Now I was in a glistening pink edifice with tall, vaulted areas, reminding me of the inside of a pink church.
“How did I get here?” I asked.
“You were always here.”
That made me think of the movie, The Matrix. Before I could speak, they asked if I wanted to see my part.
“Yes.”
They told me to go further in. Not feeling anything but curiosity, I did, walking until I reached an intersection. Ahead were two pink tubes, which reminded me of short smokestacks. Five feet tall, they were about two feet in diameter.
“Where do I go now?” I asked.
“That’s it, you’re here. You’re the brain on the left.”
I looked at tubes. “Those are brains?”
“Yes, they just need the energy. We wanted to tell you and show you because as your brain changes, our brain will grow more powerful. As it grows more powerful, you will become more intelligent and powerful, and then, so will it. As each of you change and grow, you’ll feed the other. We thought you should be aware of that”
Dream end.
I have no idea what this dream was about. I woke up feeling surprised. Thinking about the dream, I concluded, “That was different.” I wanted to just dismiss it but instead felt compelled to keep thinking about it, as though I was preparing for more to come. Intrigued, part of me thinks, wow, some power is informing me that I’m going to go through great changes. A more cynical aspect thinks that’s highly dubious; it’s just random neurons firing parts of my brain as I sleep.
I’ll let you know if more of the dream ever does come.
Mood: philosophical
Hello, fellow life travelers. Welcome to another day of the journey.
Today is Friday, October 6, 2023. Buoyed by a balmy zephyr it’s already seventy outside and the sunshine rules. 86 F will be our high, I’m assured.
I’m in a reflective mood today, the product of a night of dreams. Days often seem so closely like the one the day before it and so in, like we’re standing in a hall of mirrors looking backwards and forwards to the same thing being endlessly repeated.
Not true, of course. The seasons change. So does the daily weather. So does how we physically feel and appear, typically in small ways, hour by hour, day by day, month by month through our piece of time. Yeah, many changes are seen but unless there’s a sudden sharp intrusion, most of our visible changes come in slow increments. Sometimes the pace of change can take a lifetime. I’m often surprised looking in the mirror or suddenly unable to do something that I used to do without thought. The change was coming but I didn’t see it.
After reading about the speaker selection process going on, The Neurons are having fun. Politicians who horrify me are being mentioned, like Steve Scalise and Jim Jordan. Neither of them have done anything in my purview which generates respect and admiration; instead, I found myself mildly ill at the thought they might become Speaker. I can’t imagine them being reliably intelligent or skillful enough to pull together the GOP and keep them focused. I’d use the metaphor about the GOP being as unmanageable as a herd of cats, but I like cats and don’t want to insult them.
Back to The Neurons. After reading and thinking, I found myself with “Better Man” by Pearl Jam circling the morning mental music stream (Trademark swirling). Jordan? Scalise? Can’t they find a better man or woman? Like that, Eddie Vedder is singing, “Can’t find a better man,” in my mental stream as The Neurons giggle and guffaw. Silly little immature booger heads.
Stay positive and keep reaching for the stars. Let’s embrace this day and go forward. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 