Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I was born in the U.S. in 1956. I’ve seen many changes. I never thought I’d live in a time when people would be ordering fast food from a place like McDonald’s on their phone, and it would be delivered.
Course, I didn’t expect to be typing about it on a computer in a coffee shop and sharing it with strangers, wirelessly, at that.
Didn’t think phones would be called cells, either.
Mood:
Rain claims the sky again. May not stay. Bursts break out of clouds, and then the sun breaks show with a flash of light. Brisk winds burst through the valley, shaking the trees and sending shivers through my knees, before rain kisses us again.
This is spring. This is Friday, March 29, 2024. It’s 50 F and several y’s are present — sunny-cloudy-rainy-windy-chilly. Think we’re within 2, 3 degrees of the thermometer’s upper level for this March day. Snow comes and leaves on the northern and eastern peaks over the last three days. How’s the weather in your life zone?
First, a floof update. Tucker continues a trouble-free recovery. I knocked off the opiates. Just thought he was being over medicated. He’s eating, sleeping, and moving well. I make him a cup of grain-free kibble softened with hot water, and he dives into a bowl like an osprey coming down from the sky on a hunt. After eating today, he gently washed his face and paws before tucking back into nap position. Fingers crossed that this all continues.
The Neurons loaded “Alone” by Heart into the morning mental music stream (Trademark plummeting). The song was invited into the MMMS by the line, “No answer on the telephone.”
I’d called a friend. No answer. No voice mail or answering machine. Seems ominous.
I talked to the cats about it (they were the only ones around). They agreed with me, no answer on a telephone call is surreal in this era. Some mechanized or e-response is typical if a live voice isn’t heard. But to hear the ringing continue…strange. I called again to ensure I had the number correct. I let it ring until twenty rings had filled the air. Twenty rings, an absurd amount, before giving up.
The song commenced in the MMMS a few seconds after I relayed my experience to the floofies. We — me and The Neurons — went from there. Personally, I always enjoyed the hard rock ballad. Then again, I seem drawn to hard rock ballads. Could be that they appeal to my romantic side, or the solitude inculcated by my work and travel draws me to that sort of music.
Persist to be positive and strong, lean forward toward progress and a better future, and Vote Blue. Coffee has caffeinated my brain cells, so I’m good to go. Here’s the music. Oh, wait, it’s sunny again, and the wind has become a friendly zephyr. For now.
Now it’s cloudy. Wind is beating the coffee shop umbrella. Rain veils are crossing the mountains.
Cheers
Cryptofloofency (floofinition) – Mostly related to pets, animal activities, behaviors, and sounds which seem unique, mysterious, or unusual to other, most especially people who live with the animals. Origins: 1983, United States.
In Use: “One huge learning curve for people extending hospitality to floofs is cryptofloofency, strange things the fur critters like to do, such as galloping through rooms, sleeping in sinks, singing at midnight, opening doors, and going nuts over squirrels and other critters seen in their domain.”
Mood: flooful
Round and round, here we go, another March in another year (yeah, still 2024), another Thursday in another week. It’s the 28th. This month of this year is almost done, and with its passing, one fourth of 2024 is history.
Chilly, cloudy, rainy. That’s my adjectives for today. Snow capped the highest peaks around the valley to the north yesterday. The rain just fell and fell.
Rain has stopped today. After dropping to the upper thirties last night, we’ve crept up to 51 F degrees. That’s close to the day’s upper limit.
The big news from my perspective is that Tucker survived his surgery. Back home, he’s recovering, mostly hanging out in the office where we hang out, by the space heater where my wife hangs out. Slept with me last night, purring away. He’s doing well after having all teeth removed due to refractory stomatitis gingivitis. The RSG often led to inflamed, bleeding gums for my boy, and just became progressively worse.
Recovery involves a great deal of painkillers. Painkillers mean sleep. Buprenorphine two to three times a day. A mild opioid, this makes Tucker glassy eyed. It’s on top of his other painkiller twice a day.
He’s also on a soft food diet for the next two weeks. That’ll be a challenge for the kibble chief. The black and white fur fellow loves his kibble.
Today’s song is by Ratt. “Round and Round” was released in 1984. It’s Ratt’s highest charting song, and it’s probably the best known number for the group.
It began going around and around my morning mental music stream (Trademark in the mail) after reading news. First, again. These days just go round and round. I cycle through the news cycles. Other than war, murder, and disasters, the rest of the news seems to be on permanent spin. Trials. Elections. Misinformation. “Biden is too old! Biden is too old!” Give me a break.
Round and round, Marjorie Taylor Green is threatening to unseat a GOP House Speaker again. Same ol’ antics that she did before. Hey, dear, what goes around comes around, you know? Just ask Ronna McDaniel, previously of the RNC, more recently of NBC News. The stuff she spread during her RNC days — just doing her job, officer — has come back to haunt her.
Or ask President Biden’s predecessor. Now facing prosecution for the things he did and said. Round and round, what goes around — you get it, right?
BTW, for those unfamiliar with Ratt, they were glam rockers, part of the big hair movement of the 1980s. The big hair glam rockers had lots of hair. We could often barely see their faces because of their long, frequently curly, wavy, fluffy, and well, BIG, hair. One of our past rock movements. What goes around is supposed to come around again, right? It is happening among the TikTok Alphas. They like fat leg pants, which is what I wore in the early 1970s. And I hear many embrace the old-style phones.
Well, we’ll see if big hair glam rock returns from the grave.
Stay positive, hang on, lean forward, and Vote Blue. Please. Coffee has cometh and is being consumedeth. Here’s the nostalgic video. Hope your day is a powerful one for you.
Cheers
Dream night as busy as SFO airport on the week before Mother’s Day. All were in close third person POV, like I was outside of myself and could see me, but was focused ONLY on me.
First, there I was, being told, “Hey, you won a major prize.
Me: I did? What is it?
“A significant amount of money and famous hardware. Hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
I was very excited. Really! Can you tell me more? What did I win it for?
“You’ll find out. Just show up this morning and the details will be provided.”
This morning. That’s very short notice. I can’t make it. I’m taking my cat to the vet this morning.
“Well, the prize is waiting for you, but it won’t be there forever.”
The thing about this is it was just voices, as I’ve depicted. I saw a blue sky and a white building on a hill, but that was it. It was almost like I was just having a two-way conversation by myself.
I awoke and puzzled over that with Tucker curled up beside me. Then, back to sleep, and another dream.
I was on a curve on a road, where it crested a hill. A sniper was high on a steep hill green with trees and bushes. Shooting down on us, he was forcing us to take cover and stay still.
Walking, I came upon this happening. “What’s going on,” I demanded of my small group. I knew they were my group, but don’t recall anyone. They told me about the sniper.
I was pissed. “Shoot him. Where are our shooters?”
“They tried. They couldn’t do it.”
I scowled. “Give me a rifle.”
I peered up the hill until locating him and fired one shot. Handing the rifle back, I said, “There. Done. Was that so hard?”
I turned away as my group began talking to each other about what I’d done, very impressed about it.
Then I awoke again. I wanted to ensure I was up at 6:30. It was 4:10. Back to sleep and another dream.
I was standing by the side of a road on its shoulder. This road seemed like the same road as in the sniper dream. Also, it seemed like highway 92 in California, on the way to Half Moon Bay.
Someone said, “Hey, we need your help.”
Sounded like a male behind me. I turned, wondering, do they mean me? Before I could ask that, they pointed up a hill. (I never saw any of them but the pointing hand.) “Children are up there,” they said. “They need to be rescued. Fly up them and get them.”
I was taken back. “What makes you think I can do that? I can’t fly.”
“Yes, you can, I saw you. You just did it. You just flew in here.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
Others had gathered. I was aware of their presence but didn’t see them. It didn’t prevent several from saying, “Yes, you just flew in. I saw it, too.”
Coming around to the idea that I could fly because so many insisted that I could, I said, “Okay, I’ll try. I seriously doubt that I can.”
But that’s what I did. I flew up to the children, toddlers, and young children, none seeming like they were over six or seven years old. The speed and effortless action surprised me. I was there in a blink without wings, cape, or any kind of aid.
Unlike earlier, I saw all of the children. They seemed like they were in good health and uninjured, but inexplicably alone on a mountainside. “Who are you?” one asked.
“I’m here to rescue you,” I answered. Picking them up — like nine or ten children — in my arms, I said, “We’re going to fly down. Hang on.”
Then, blink, I’m at the bottom, putting the children down. Conversations, congratulations, and astonishment flourished around me. And then, because I could, I disappeared because I’d flown away.
Mood: subjective
Hi world. Began this Wezday, March 27, 2024, with a recap of weird dreams.
The ‘Wezday’ thing came from this cute little girl visiting the coffee shop today. Looked like she was two. Dressed in yellow, with pink plastic boots with pictures on them. She was in line with her group a few yards away. I don’t know what was being discussed by the adults but she suddenly announced in a huge stage voice, “I know tomorrow is Wezday. Tomorrow is Wezday. I know.”
That bought a laugh from many of us.
It’s rainy today, 50 F, with an expected high a few degrees north of 50. Blue sky and sunshine are both shying away from our valley for the moment. They might emerge to show they exist later.
Left the house at 7 AM to take Tucker in for his surgery. Arrived there ten minutes early. He was not pleased. He’d been cut off from eating last night at 10 PM. I fed him the best that I could because I know what was coming.
Today at 6 AM, he went to where his kibble usually resides. When he discovered it wasn’t there, he began grumbling. It was soon as loud as approaching thunder, if the thunder had a meow sound embedded it. I get him back between three and five this afternoon. My fingers are crossed, etc, that all goes well. I have a good feeling about it, but these things can go awry fast.
So after my dream recap, I was talking to myself, Tucker, and Papi. Papi wasn’t going to be fed until after I left. My wife would give him food. I wasn’t eating until I came back from dropping off Tucker. Just a sympathy thing; wasn’t fair for me to eat if he couldn’t.
Anyway, while having this conversation, I might have employed the expression, “I’m not crazy.” Within a short while, The Neurons had Rob Thomas of Matchbox Twenty singing, “I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell,” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark evaporating). The 2003 song, “Unwell”, sat well in my pscyhe as music for today. Give it a listen and let me know what you think.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote. Is that too much to ask? Ask me again after my coffee, okay?
We returned from the vet office yesterday. Tucker was released from his carrier. He trotted free and then turned back. At the carrier again, he insistently sniffed its door. A few steps away were taken and then he sat down and commenced a serious washing session.
Papi approached. Tucker paused his washing. The two cats tentatively touched noses, Papi’s pink on Tucker’s black.
Floof note: these two felines never touch noses.
Papi seemed to be verifying, you went to that place? And Tucker seemed to be replying, too right.
My sympathy, Papi answered, moving backward. He wandered toward the kibble bowls.
Tucker resumed cleaning.
I used to be on Twitter. Left it when the infantile X man took over. Others convinced me to return.
I get new followers every day. Most are women. They put up photos of attractive women. They usually have hundreds to thousands of followers.
And they have zero to few posts.
I don’t follow them back. I think they’re bots. Lures for something going on, maybe.
A few reached out to me via X’s messaging system after they follow me. Their missives typically include, “Nice to get in touch with you. I see that you are also paying attention to some political matters. What do you think of the current political situation?” They almost always use similar words.
My response is to not answer.
Yeah, there’s nothing going on here.
As if it’s not enough that we need to worry about bears, cougars, other animals, and motor vehicles, someone out there in our town is shooting pets. Dogs so far, as two dogs have been found dead, a bullet through their heads. But it could be cats; many are reported missing. Whether it’s cats or dogs, it’s sickening and evil. And maybe a gateway to doing darker things? An individual like this is malfunctioning.
The police need to step up and find them. Better, a cougar will hunt them down and take care of business for us. Just sayin’.
Michael Seidel, writer 