Mood: pickled

It’s Wednesday, November 29, 2023. If you’re counting the days, November has just one more, and then December steps up to assert her presence.

A hazy shade of winter rules out there, even though it’s technically still autum, with gray cotton-candy clouds smothering sunshine and blue sky. Temperature has climbed to 35 F from the overnight low of 28 F at my house. Still dry, we still have a stagnant air warning. The air quality is moderately down because people are using their fireplaces and much of the smoke stays in the area, affecting breathing, eyes, etc.

My wife made me laugh last night. She frequently does, although the way I put, it sounds like a rare thing. Anyway, the cats had me surrounded, one on the floor beside me to my left, one beside the computer on the desk, paw on mouse to my right. I was mildly complaining about them because I was trying to get something done and they were hampering me. “Look how they look at you,” she said. “They’re like, he’s so dreamy.” LOL

Politics influenced The Neurons and their music choice today. Is that a surprise? My wife was The Neurons’ influencer. Trump and his supporters dismay her. She’s a lifelong feminist and social activist, with a long history of standing up for others and fighting for change. So, after reading some Red State news to see what was going on there, she made comments along the lines of wishing Trump was gone. I later discovered I was humming a song to myself. When I stopped to challenge what it was, I couldn’t quit remember it, to The Neurons’ delight. But this morning, I thought about it again, and bang, “I’ll Feel A Whole Lot Better” by The Byrds (1965) cranked up in the morning mental music stream (Trademark ancient).

I initially heard the song from AM radio when it came out when I was nine. Mom usually had music on in the car as we accompanied her when she was shopping and running errands. This being 1965 and later, the cars would’ve been her big white Chevy Impala convertible or her equally huge brown Buick LeSabre. Both had interiors the size of small living rooms, with steering wheels worthy of guiding the Titanic. While I heard it there, though, I learned the song more from my older sister. She had the album, Mr. Tambourine Man. I sharply remember its faded album cover, worn from being slid around. Her little record player was only good for 45s, so she had to ask Mom for permission to playher 33s on the big Magnavox console stereo in the living room, or take her albums to a friend’s house to play them. She played it often enough around me that I later played a bit of it on guitar when I began trying that instrument. Of course, Tom Petty did the song in 1989 on one of his albums, reviving memories of the original.

The song is a quite mellow folk-pop tune. The line in it behind the childhood connection and Trump and his hateful, authoritarian stances is, “And I’ll probably feel a whole lot better when you’re gone.” She and I agree that we will feel better when Trump is gone. Given his diet and overweight appearance, stress from campaigning for POTUS while screaming at people till he turns purple, all while enduring four trials, coupled with his denial about his health, she and I wouldn’t be surprised if a stroke or heart attack felled him within the next few months.

Stay pos, be strong, lean forward. Coffee is delighting my taste buds even as I write. Here’s the music. Cheers