Day: December 19, 2024

Two Clothing Dreams

Two clothing dreams were experienced. One ended positively.

In the first clothing dream, it’s my classic anxiety dream. I’m back in the military, and oh, no, I’m not in reg. My hair needs a haircut and I don’t have my cap. We’re expected to be ‘under cover’ when we’re in most situations outside so not having your cap is a large, visible no-no.

And my hair! I was a senior non-commissioned officer. I’m expected to set an example, etc. But in my dream, I said, I can fix this.

I knew I had caps. I just needed to find them. And for the hair — show me a barber! That last was fixed almost immediately as I headed toward the Base Exchange complex. There’ll be someone to cut my hair there. As it’s an anxiety dream, you’d think I’d encountered difficulties with that, but nope! They were open, a chair was available, I had money to pay…it all went great.

Next, the hats. I went to my quarters and pawed through my gear. Yes, there was the proper cover for this ensemble selection. In fact, as I thought I knew, I had two.

Both were filthy, though. Well, hell, no problem. Soap, water, scrubbing, and they were clean and serviceable within minutes.

Dream end. Reviewing the dream, I was pleased. Had anxieties, but problems covered. Heh. Sorry ’bout the pun.

As frequently in my dreams, I was again a young person. One of my best friends during that period was my cousin, and he was in that dream. We were the same height but I was broad-shouldered while he was narrow. Within a few years, he would grow taller, becoming eight inches taller than me. As he swerved toward the right wing, our friendship split apart.

My aunt, his mother, was also in the dream. She was telling that we needed to get ready. With some fast dream talking and thinking, I realized some formal event was happening. I needed a suit and didn’t have one. Somehow I got hold of my cousin’s suit. Sky blue, the suit was a standard American classic cut but made of an unusual fabric that reminded me of a nylon scrub pad. I folded the suit up and put it in a machine that looked like a carrying kennel for animals. Withdrawing it after a few seconds, I discovered that the arms had shrunk, becoming narrow and short. The suit would now fit neither of us. It was also soaking wet, which puzzled me. It hadn’t been my intention to ruin the suit. Now feeling terrible about it, I started walking around wandering, where can I get two suits now?

That’s how and where the dream ended.

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The Writing Moment

I finished a draft of a novel (working title: Gravity’s Emotions) right before going into my October ankle surgery. Then, reading novels, stuck in variations of being on my back with my ankle in a boot raised at about 45 degrees, I concluded, I dislike that ending. Too damn pat.

Muses flew in with suggested revisions. It’ll be work, they warned. We’re gonna need to go back in and cut several chapters.

Okay, I agreed. Sharpen the blades.

I read through the novel without making changes except for egregious typos, punctuation, or grammar. By the finish, I knew where to begin cutting and went in.

Next came writing the replacement parts. This presented significantly greater challenges. Writing the replacement scenes has been word-to-word combat. But with all my fiction writing efforts, it’s ultimately a satisfying mental exercise. Squeezing characters and concept to wring out the story and then developing it into something rewarding to read is fundamentally entertaining for me. I’d rather be doing this than anything else.

Chapter by chapter, I’m edging toward the terminus. I don’t know how it’ll end. I sense I’m close. I’m just going to let it sneak up on me and take me by surprise.

That’s my favorite kind of writing.

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Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

Jingle Jangle.

It’s a Trader Joe’s offering for the holidays. Basically, dark and milk chocolate is poured over pretzels, nuts, popcorn, caramel corn, etc. Some tiny pseudo milk-chocolate and dark-chocolate Reece’s Peanut Butter cups and faux M&Ms are thrown in.

Reading about it — a man bought fifty of the tins to give as gifts because he found it so good! — my wife thought that she would buy some for friends. But first, you know, being a good gifter, she thought we needed to try it out. We did that last night.

At first, yum. That’s good dark chocolate but what is it that it’s covering? We thoroughly tested and tasted, sampling everything. “Really sweet,” she said.

“It is really sweet,” I agreed. “I’m feeling a little sick.”

She nodded. “Me, too.”

I cut the sweetness with water and urge myself, stop eating. But the damn stuff was addicting. Finally, stomach in full rebellion against more, I ceased.

“I don’t think we’ll give that to anyone,” my wife announced. “It’s just too sweet for everyone we know.”

I agreed. Then I wondered, what are we going to do with the rest of a tin of Jingle Jangle?

I bet it goes good with coffee.

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Thursday’s Wandering Political Thoughts

I checked out the Borowitz Report. Andy has created his own Project 2025. Quoting him,

The Heritage Foundation has inspired me to create my very own Project 2025—and, unlike their 900-page dystopian fever dream, mine can be summarized in one sentence:

I’m breaking up with the oligarchs.

The following billionaires have cynically chosen to throw in with Trump. Consequently, they all deserve a boycott in 2025. (Note: I’m aware that there are many other oligarchs worthy of being shunned. Consider this a starter kit.)

Andy lists Elon Musk (a natural number one in this exercise), Mark Benioff, Jeff Bezos, and Mark Zuckerberg. It’s a worthy starter kit. I laud all of his choices.

I gagged over Andy’s comments about Benioff, though. Benioff, as Time Magazine’s owner, wrote in support of Trump as the Person of the Year: “This marks a time of great promise for our nation. We look forward to working together to advance American success and prosperity for everyone.”

What a tone-deaf idiot. The divisive Trump and his merry band of billionaires are going to advance ‘success and prosperity for everyone.’

Sure. Go sell that garbage on Mars. I know many unthinking Americans bought that cheap brand of recycled cheerleading but some of us have been paying attention. In true Orwellian fashion, Benioff has redefined ‘everyone’ as wealthy, white, and male.

People, you shoulda voted blue. You’re gonna reap what you sowed. Let me tell you, it ain’t gonna be ‘success and prosperity’ for everyone.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: Nostalgic

Today is Thursday, December 19, 2024. A temptation to change Thursday to Throughsday almost conquered my fingers. ‘Throughsday’ because the week is almost finished. I didn’t change it, as I’m disinclined toward misinformation and confusing people.

In other morning news, a crowd of zombies went through our town. Ha, ha, just kidding. It wasn’t a crowd. Just a couple.

Our weather today looks as if someone delivered elements of fog, clouds, sunshine, and rain. All were tossed together in a big blue bowl. Now they’re up there, waiting to be mixed and blended.

Just after observing and writing all of that, Papi the ginger blade floof, returned with a scouting report. He didn’t need to say anything. Fog had shut down the sunshine, clouds, and blue skies. 46 F out there, it ‘feels like 38’, with a high of 57 dangling over us.

I met with my beer buddies last night. Two new members joined us. She is a retired teacher and physician’s assistant. He is a retired electrical engineer. They have a daughter who works for NASA, and he was a big science fiction fan when he was a kid. Others told him that I sometimes write science fiction. He shifted over to sit by me later in the night and discuss the genre. Lot of fun remembering the novels we had in common which influenced us.

Today’s theme music arrives on the shoulders of a conversation I had with several women last night. They expressed deep disappointment and frustration that more women didn’t turn out to vote in the 2024 election. I didn’t have any insights into that and they couldn’t cite any stats. Young me from several different groups were the dissappointing difference to me. I read interviews with and stories about young black men, for example, who thought Trump would be better for the economy. That still makes me shake my head.

Anyway, after returning home with that conversation in mind, “American Woman” by the Guess Who from 1970 rose into the morning mental music stream (Trademark peeling) today. I always thought the song was about the United States, represented by a woman, seducing countries to be like the United States. The singer was resisting because the United States was a war machine filled with ghettos. The ‘colored lights’ referred to in the song was Hollywood glamor. Remember, the Vietnam War was underway and protests were taking place in the U.S. In light of that backdrop, my interpretation made sense to me. But different interviews with the Guess Who band members painted a different story. The songwriter and vocalist, Burton Cummings, said it was just a comparison of women from the U.S. and Canada.

“What was on my mind was that girls in the States seemed to get older quicker than our girls and that made them, well, dangerous. When I said ‘American woman, stay away from me,’ I really meant ‘Canadian woman, I prefer you.’ It was all a happy accident.”

h/t to Wikipedia.

I became fourteen around the time of the song’s release. It’s uptempo beat, rich bass, unique riffs, lead guitar, lyrics, and vocals all worked for me. Cummings sang it with an angry, contemptuous sneer in my opinion. That spoke to my own burgeoning contempt for how our world and society works. Ah, to be young and idealistic.

Coffee and I have negotiated arrangements and I’m taking advantage of that to warm my throat. Time to light the candle on another day. Here’s the music. Cheers

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