Month: November 2023

Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: contentious

Forty and foggy for Friday in Ashlandia, the weather mothers proclaimed. I saw no fog but forty F did come around. Even with forty and sunshine, les chats were all for coming in where the furnace warmed us and staying in.

It’s November 17, 2023, and the countdown toward holidays in the US and the year’s end is heating up even as our temperatures go down. We’re in the midst of a hot streak, and our high will be 62 F.

Now, I gotta tell you, I’m tired of a lot of things going on not just in the United States, but the entired world. War is one of them, mass shootings and killings with automatic weapons is another, along with climate deniers, and ‘cultural warriors’ who baked issues with women’s rights (abortion choice), teaching children critical race theory (doesn’t happen), GOP gerrymandering, and pulling rights out from under LGBTQIA+ people, just to scare and divide people. I’m tired of people trampling others’ rights, religions and freedoms because they’re claim in strident tones that they’re being persecuted. I’m tired of people who don’t like a book banning it to keep others from reading it. I’m tired of Evangelicals and White Supremacists and antisemetics all trying to pose as something other than the haters and evils that they are. Tired of media and pundits pretending that both sides are the same when talking about Democrats and Republicans as Republicans rise up to deny people equality and justice and burn the country down to get their way while Democrats fight to defend us and keep it all going. If you think they’re the same, you’re not paying attention, and I’m tired of people not paying attention, not applying some critical thinking, not doing research, not exercising their memories, not understanding their government, and trying to rewrite history. But mostly, I’m tired of damn Donald J. Trump and his whole tribe of lying, hypocritical supporters.

Out out of that, The Neurons fed “You Haven’t Done Nothin” by Stevie Wonder to my morning mental music stream (Trademark declared). It’s a solid theme song choice. This 1974 protest song was addressing another infamous Republican POTUS, Richard Nixon, you know, the one of Watergate, dirty tricks, and wiring taping fame. The one who resigned and was pardoned by his successor.

While written for the political environment and events of almost fifty years ago, this song is exactly what’s needed to address Trump and his stolen election lies and the many other facets of his re-election ‘campaign’, along with his constant insistent about how great he is, how he’s so incredibly fit when we can see that he’s not, what an amazing memory he is as he makes claims about things that never happened. I’m tired of the growing cancerous mass which he represents. Stevie Wonder could have written his song for Trump.

We are amazed but not amused
By all the things you say that you’ll do
Though much concerned but not involved
With decisions that are made by you

But we are sick and tired of hearing your song
Telling how you are gonna change right from wrong
‘Cause if you really want to hear our views
“You haven’t done nothing”!

It’s not too cool to be ridiculed
But you brought this upon yourself
The world is tired of pacifiers
We want the truth and nothing else

And we are sick and tired of hearing your song
Telling how you are gonna change right from wrong
‘Cause if you really want to hear our views
“You haven’t done nothing”!

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Stay positive, be strong, stand up for your rights, and lean forward for a better future. Here’s the music. Coffee is up, if you want some. Hey ho, let’s go. Cheers

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Food & Diamonds Dream

Didn’t see much of myself in this dream. I was there doing things under others’ guidance. The first part was about taste, eating, and ingredients.

I was given six ingredients and told to make something to eat out of those. I don’t know any of the ingredients at this point. But as I started working on it, a woman came by and said, “If you have any problems, call this number: 220-4076.” Okay, I said, got it. Will do.

I began working with the ingredients to make things. With quick experimentation, began intuiting that the food would guide me. In fact, if I let them, the foods would choose by themselves which ones should come together and that the best results came from just using three ingredients.

People, including my wife, arrived and tasted my food. Expressing astonishment, they asked, “Did you make this?” As I told them I did, they were in disbelief because it was so good, in their words, making me proud and happy. Same asked me for cooking insights and I happily shared what I’d learned, telling them that the food would come together by itself so just come together and let it. They then watched as I told a group of six foods to make something. The food pieces began moving, shifting into groups of three, and then shuffling their proportions by themselves. Everyone reacted in amazement, exclaiming, “You were serious, it does make itself.” I said, “I just need to cook it in whatever way needed. That’s where this phone number comes in.” As I looked at the phone number, something clicked and I said, “But I only need 220, the first part. The rest doesn’t matter.”

Finishing up there, I caught up with my wife. She was jewelry shopping in some swanky store where the sound was completely muffled by thick-pile blue carpet. When I arrived, she was engaged with a sales clerk but turning to me said, “M, I dropped an earring. Can you see if you can find it?” Questions and answers were exchanged about where she’d lost it etc. Getting on my knees with a flashlight, I searched the carpet and found the earring, a tiny but exquisite little silver piece. She was so pleased I’d found it, telling me that she’d been confident that I would, but then told me she’d lost another, so could I find it, too?

I did so with little trouble. She was still shopping so I walked to another part of the store and then out of it. Beyond the store, it was hot, dry, and brown with dust. The dust was blowing in my face, coating my lips and smarting my eyes. Grimacing against all that, I walked around behind the store. Turning back, I saw that I’d wandered a long way from it, and the store was just a smudge on the horizon, and so started making a direct and determined effort to walk back to the store fast.

As I walked though, I bent my head against the dust and wind, keeping my eyes toward the ground. Slowing and shielding my eyes against a particularly sustained, hard wind, I bent down and saw stones. Picking them up, I discovered that there were cut yellow diamonds. From what I knew, they couldn’t be worth much, because wasn’t yellow diamonds a lesser color? Still, they should have some value, I told myself, and picked the diamonds up. A huge cache covered by dust was found.

Wondering if the diamonds belonged to someone, I called 220. Without even explaining who I was or why I was calling, the person answering said, “The diamonds are yours if you want them. Take what you want. That’s why they’re there,” and then hung up.

Dream end.

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The Writing Moment

24 pages.

I’ve had about twenty-four pages left to edit and revise in the novel in progress for about a month. Reason exists for that number: I keep re-writing and revising the first ten pages of one chapter. I’ve done so six times. After the sixth time — I’m a slow thinker — I realized that I didn’t know enough about the two characters and their relationship.

He was the main character and I’d been writing about him for months. His actions, thinking, and talking filled most of the 420 pages already revised. The other character had never shown up but was obliquely referenced. He was her son, but she wasn’t really his mother. He didn’t know that when he was young, only learning much later in life. He knew she resented him but didn’t know why. He thought he’d murdered her, but it turned out that she hadn’t been killed. Yes, it’s complicated.

After fleshing these things out more, I suddenly realized, oh, they hate each other.

It surprised me. I thought they were hostile and contemptuous toward one another but hadn’t respected the true depths of despise between them. She was secretive and using him, and he didn’t know why, but he didn’t like her and didn’t trust her. After leaving home, he’d researched his ‘mother’ and discovered little of the truth about her, except he hadn’t murdered her, that she’d framed him and she wasn’t dead at all, but had abandoned him and his sister, hiding her existence from them. All this traumatized his sister when she was a child, who responded by ostracizing her brother and becoming a cat. (I told you, it’s complicated.)

Now that I feel better about my understanding of the two, I tore out the chapter to rewrite it again. Then I’ll revise, and when I feel like I can go on, I will. Then I’ll read the novel again for more revision and see how the newest effort holds up.

That’s how it goes.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: up tempo

Although it’s Thursday, November 11, 2023, and fall’s colors claim the land, spring ambiance has won the day. It’s remarkable how much it seems like spring out there. That feeling just boosts my spirits and energy. Gotta love it.

Early afternoon, it’s 60 F outside and the temperature will claw up to 65 F in Ashlandia, where traffic is busy and road construction continues. This weather pleases my cats. Tucker has gone out back into a sunny spot of grass, groomed himself and settled for a nap. Papi wandered in and out a few times, which is his custom regardless of weather, but settled down on a chair cushion in the sun out back and is curled into sleep. Pleasant, even satisfying, to see the two boys out there napping.

Getting a late start. My wife had a problem with one a device this morning. It failed to work for her, so I took it apart and got it going again but killed an hour from the morning. Then she and I discussed genealogy for a while after she accidently discovered a photo and details about her great-great-great grandfather on the net. That stirred my interest again in having my DNA analyzed. I usually avoid it because I know from others how learning about DNA and genealogy becomes a time suck as people learn and pursue info about themselves and their ancestors. I don’t want to invite another time suck into my life, but I also feel like the time has come.

Other than that, and meeting with friends for drinks, reading books, trying to keep up with the news, planning holiday activities, chores, writing, and taking the cars in for maintenance, not much is going on. With so much discouraging news sweeping the world, The Neurons turned on Train with “Calling All Angels” in my morning mental music stream (Trademark blinking). The 2003 song reflects a hopeful vibe for someone who feels like everything is falling apart and came out of the songwriter’s therapy session.

I need a sign to let me know you’re here
All of these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere
I need to know that things are gonna look up
‘Cause I feel us drowning in a sea spilled from a cup
When there is no place safe
And no safe place to put my head
When you can feel the world shake
From the words that are said

And I’m calling all angels
And I’m calling all you angels

I won’t give up if you don’t give up
I won’t give up if you don’t give up
I won’t give up if you don’t give up
I won’t give up if you don’t give up

I need a sign to let me know you’re here
‘Cause my TV set just keeps it all from being clear
I want a reason for the way things have to be
I need a hand to help build up
Some kind of hope inside of me

And I’m calling all angels
And I’m calling all you angels

n/t to AZLyrics.com

Stay pos and hydrated, sleep well and be strong, and lean forward into a better future. Coffee has been deposited in my gullet and delivered the desired effect. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Little Updates

I previously wrote about a couple of coffee-shop regulars who disappeared. These were Austin and Ross. Now both are sort of back.

A reminder, Austin was a tall, fair man with red hair and hiking gear. When I first saw him in the coffee shop in late spring of this year, I assumed that he was off the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). Several trailheads are right by Ashland, and we’re use to hikers coming into town for supplies, mail, or a break.

But he hung around through the summer and into autumn, stopping by the coffee house several times a day. And then, he just stopped, but I also didn’t see him elsewhere in town. I wondered and worried: where in the world was Austin.

Well, he just walked in one day recently like nothing had changed. Something has changed, though; I see him walking around town now, but he doesn’t come to the coffee house as he used to do. Good to see him and know he’s well, but questions remain about that disappearance and why his habits have shifted. Not any of my business, of course; I’m just nosy.

Likewise, Ross turned up in the coffee house yesterday. He’d been banned for comments he was making to the staff and for disturbing other patrons with his economic and religious ideas. No other details are available.

I saw him come in yesterday and head to a table. Then he went up and ordered. A few minutes later, the shift manager went over and reminded him that he’d banned. Ross went albeit not without shouting, “At least say it with a smile, you fascists.”

So, he’s still banned but at least I now know he’s still alive and in the area. Like Austin, though, there’s a mysterious gap over the last few months, which is always fodder for a fiction writer.

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Floofogony

Floofogony (floofinition) – 1. An account of floofs’ origins on Earth. Origins: Poem of 1022 lines by Floofsiod, written about 1026 BCE.

In Use: “Few humans have been granted access to the Floofogony, a document which is precious to animals and kept in the Fortress of Floofitude in an undisclosed place which is said to exist in an area of Earth inaccessible to humans.”

Recent Use: “Although many societies offer greater recognition that animals are not dumb and do have feelings and are capable of more intelligence than previously credited, the idea of a document such as the Floofogony is usually roundly mocked.”

2. Anguish of any sort felt about the loss of an animal or an animal’s situation. Origins: middle-english, first known use in fourteenth century.

In Use: “When their dog raced out of the yard after his bath, immediate floofogony was felt by all the family members even as they scrambled to put on their shoes, get in the car and find her.”

Recent Use: “With the Internet showing more about animals across the spectrum helping one another or asking humans for help, more people experience floofogony as they read stories or watch videos about animals being dumped, abused, or in need of medical intervention after accidents.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: measured

Slept in late, stayed with the cat.

A flourish of color and wind heralded Wednesday’s daybreak on November 15, 2023 in Ashlandia, where red-leaved maples are spectacular and plentiful, shimmering with a tree full of leaves like they’re lit from within. After rain dusted us for a few nocturnal hours, it’ll be dry for the day’s remaining hours. 54 F now, we’re reaching for 62 F today under a sky where sun and clouds continue their seasonal skirmish. Sunshine is mostly winning, and the day feels fine under a balmy autumn wind that tears leaves off the trees and carries them on whirling rides.

The 15th of the month was payday for me for most of my military career, a day which we looked forward to when I was a lowly paid airman. In the latter stages of my career, the government announced we’d only be paid once per month going forward to save the gov. money. That forced many people to be more circumspect with how they spent, impelling people who habitually went payday to payday, comfortable in the half-month increments, into planning what and when to spend to make it last.

I slept in late today, staying abed until after nine. Wasn’t a plan; cozy and warm, with Tucker, the black and white long hair floof sharing my pillow, purring like an idling tractor, The Neurons said, “Let’s just stay here.” Didn’t even consult me. Then Tucker raised his head and sneezed across my face, ending the sleep-in with a jolt. Rolling out, feet thumping the floor, I hastened to the bathroom and rinsed off my face, giving particular focus to my mouth. I’m not a germophobe but if I was setting up a dating profile, cat drool across my lips would be listed as a turnoff.

I thanked him for getting me up and then went into the feeding ritual. Papi hurried in for his portion, patiently sitting and watching, only vocalizing his needs after I picked up his bowl to set onto the floor. Then it was like Papi was suddenly starving as a hunger-driven long wail of desire was unleashed. Still, as I set the bowl down, he took a few moments to head bump my arm and hand several times and purr before dropping his head to the bowl and plowing in.

As if now making fun of me because I was late, dashing around, muttering to myself, “Got to step it up a few gears,” The Neurons delivered a 1970 song called “Give Me Just a Little More Time” by Chairmen of the Board to the morning mental music stream (Trademark skipping). The song came out when I was thirteen, and I always enjoyed the drama and urgency the vocalist emoted. Some might label it over the top, but I felt some kinship with the message presented as I trekked the hormone trippy path of understanding sex, love, and other emotions as a teenager. I’m still working onit.

Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee has been consumed and is kicking in, giving me a heartbeat and clearing the fog out of my head. Here we go. Cheers

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