Author: Michael Seidel

Science fiction, fantasy, and mystery writer. Singer (sorry, no shows) & nudist (in my home). Beer, cat, cheese, coffee, pie and wine friend. Left IBM and Silicon Valley for the southern Oregon life but I miss the ocean. We're too far inland. Gotta move.

The Overlooked Dream

From the eagle dream, I later went into another dream. Once again, I was in the military.

There were about ten of us in a room. A mission was being planned. The rest were aircrew members. I was command and control. For some reason, I was being added to the flight. I didn’t understand my purpose. I don’t think the aircrew members knew, either.

Two aircrews were there. One was primary, and the other was a backup. The backup guys came around and gave the primary aircrew members Pabst Blue Ribbon beers in cans, one each, slipping it to them, like they were being sly. I wasn’t given on. I was completely ignored.

I sat, waiting to be included, or at least acknowledged. The unit commander came in and addressed the crews. He mentioned me in passing. I still didn’t know my role. The two crews formed up. I followed the primary crew like a hopeful puppy. The dream ended.

I awoke feeling, what the hell?

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The Eagle Dream

I was walking up from a vale. The land was becoming steeper but greener, with forests on either side and blue skies above.

A shadow passed over me. Turning, I caught movement on my vision’s edge, and swung around more sharply. I’d seen a shadow. Following its movement, I realized it was a bird with spread wings.

I craned my head back. Wings spread, an enormous eagle was flying overhead. Gasping, I pointed, and then called to my wife, “Look, look, it’s an eagle. It’s huge.”

Dream end.

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Back, Baby

Hold breath. Release.

Order, calm. 

Relax. It’s okay.

Sure. Yes. It’ll be okay.

So it went on Monday. My wife and I left on a car-cation. Just a road trip to Yachats. I wanted to write, of course, but I knew she was jealous of that. She wanted to break out of our regular structure of existence, hence the trip to the coast.

So, with reluctance, I agreed without speaking to her unspoken concern. It’s the kind of thing that works after being married through a few ice ages.

I worried, though, oh, I worried that I’d forgotten what I’d written, where I was in the ms., and what I was about to write or change. It helped that I was on draft number seven of April Showers 1921. It’s probably ninety percent written, with changes being made to sculpt the story, structure the plot, polish the prose, and exercise the pace. Still, I worried that the muses might decide to teach me a lesson because I’d ignored them for four days.

A more rational aspect of me reassured me that all would be well. That piece of me proved correct. I sat down with my computer and cuppa coffee today, opened the doc, and said, “Oh, that’s right. This part is wordy and awkward and needs some lovin’.”

Then I was off. Good day of writing — and editing — like crazy. Good to be back. Time to go on to other things.

Butt’s asleep, ya’ know? Yeah, writer’s butt; it’s the worse. They never warned you about writer’s butt when you told them you wanted to be a writer, did they?

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Floofnami

Floofnami (floofintion) – A great wave of activity by housepets.

In use: “A floofnami swept the house as the mini-cat, Logan, still learning the ropes, found the catnip and went nuts, terrorizing the birds, alarming the other cats, and provoking the dogs into unbridled barking.”

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The Thief

The thief isn’t death – we’re all going to die —

the thief is the decline that robs us of time.

The thief burgles memories

and steals our wit,

the thief is the disease that rots our bodies

and makes us sick.

The thief embezzles our energies and usurps our pride,

darkens our vision and makes hope a lie.

It takes our hearing and corrupts our senses,

builds up walls and creates new fences.

We look out from within and they look in from without,

both of us wondering,

does anyone know what life is about?

 

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Flooftel

Flooftel (floofinition) – A hotel or motel that allows pets to stay or caters to pets. ‘Flooftel’ is often misused for ‘flooftella‘, but other than sharing the same roots, the two words are not related.

In use: “Although a luxury hotel, the Overleaf is also a flooftel, allowing pets to stay with their owners.”

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Friday’s Theme Music

Out walking the beach under glorious weather – seventy and sunny – a few days ago at Yachats. Out came a Tommy John song, “Draggin’ the Line”, 1971. I heard it as a fifteen-year-old. I took it to be about working, and accepting that he had to work, because he was in love with a girl. He’s not hurrying or complaining, he’s just doing what must be done, and – to reference another song from another group – they’re happy together.

Makin’ a livin’ the old, hard way
Takin’ and givin’ by day by day
I dig snow and rain and the bright sunshine
Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line)

My dog Sam eats purple flowers
Ain’t got much, but what we got’s ours
We dig snow and rain and the bright sunshine
Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line)
Draggin’ the line (Draggin’ the line)

I feel fine
I’m talkin’ ’bout peace of mind
I’m gonna take my time
I’m gettin’ the good sign

h/t to AZLyrics.com

I later heard that it was about doing cocaine. That didn’t make sense to me. Today, after thinking about the song, I checked Wikipedia. “Asked about the meaning of the title in a 2009 interview, Tommy James said: “”Draggin’ the Line” just meant working every day. Nothing really very mysterious about it.””

h/t to Wikipedia.org

Let’s mellow, children.

 

 

 

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The First Time

Oh, I remember the first time. Dad had taken us children out. It was just the four of us. Mom was working. When we reached home, we discovered that Dad didn’t have the key, and the door was locked. This was pre-cell phone days, back when phones were big, clumsy things a headset as large as a small child’s head, and a rotary dial.

Dad reconnoitered to find a way in and then started talking about going to one of the neighbors’ houses to call Mom. We hadn’t lived there long, and didn’t know the neighbors.

I had a more pressing issue; I had to pee. Dad pointed to a bush and said, “Just go behind a bush.”

I was shocked. Pee outside? What are we animals. But when a boy hasta go, a boy hasta go.

Yep, I remember the first time.

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