Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Instafloof (floofinition) – social media site housepets use to share information and stories.
In use: “As the people partied, drank, and became sillier through the evening, the cats and dogs slipped their iPaws out, snapped shots, and posted them to Instafloof.”
Keeping it simple today.
I’m agnostic in my religious approach, with some new age and pagan shavings. Our house is lightly decorated for the holidays with a few Douglas Fir swags over the fireplace and front door, and a large wreath on one of the living room’s high walls. Each is lit by strands of small white lights at night. I like sitting in there and thinking of the centuries past, when darkness and cold descended, and people wondered what was to come. Gee, just like as it happens now, innit? I also sip a little mulled wine or wine with wassail, just to put me in the right mood, when I sit in there.
Perhaps it’s cheesy by some standards, but I like this rendition of Bing Crosby and David Bowie doing “Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth”. I was stationed in the Philippines when it came out in November, 1977, and didn’t see it for years. My assignment was due to end on December 28, 1977, and I’d go home then, and on to my next assignment, but the Flying Tigers, which was the servicing airline the military contracted, had an extra 747 available. They announced that seats were available for anyone who could get leave or process through to end their assignment, if their assignment was due to end in December.
I ended up on that flight, along with maybe a dozen other people. Landing in L.A., I found flights to Cincinnati to Charleston, WV, and took a bus for the final miles, arriving home just after a snowstorm, but still on Christmas Eve. I’d called my wife from Charleston to meet me at the bus station. That was the first she knew of my early homecoming. I think I was the only person who got off the bus.
Driving through the snow,
one hand on the wheel,
while reading a text on the phone
in my other hand.
I never saw the truck,
nor the other car,
I never even saw the sign,
or tried to stop my car.
Oh, jing —
Floofbrage (floofinition) – a housepet’s display of pique or resentment, often over perceived favoritism or a small slight.
In use: “Discovering he’d gone into the bathroom without letting her in with him, Ashley clawed and meowed at the door in floofbrage.”
I dreamed I was a young medical device inventor. I was at a trade show, displaying and explaining the device. It was a small show, standard place of booths, tables, and displays in a hotel ballroom, but sparsely attended. It was the last day and I was very upbeat.
Looking for backers and investors, I was demonstrating my device. In retrospect, it reminds me of devices like Star Trek‘s tricorder. There were differences. Running my device over a person created a three-dimensional full-color model of their body. Nerves, muscles, bones, blood vessels…everything was faithfully displayed. Everyone seeing it responded with enthusiasm and amazement.
But the neat part was that my device could be used for cardiovascular procedures. I demonstrated that after creating the model, it became an active, functioning replication of the scanned body. Using entrance through a femoral artery with a standard introducer, a small drone could be deployed into the bloodstream.
Yes, it was a tiny ship, just like the one they miniaturized in Fantastic Voyage (1966). (BTW, can someone please consider remaking Fantastic Voyage? Everything else is being remade. I think we can reboot that puppy with modern CGI, and then create a television series and a franchise. You’re welcome.)
Except, my ship wasn’t manned by Stephen Boyd, Donald Pleasence, Raquel Welch, and the rest. Instead, the cardiovascular team use the ship’s devices via wireless virtual reality goggles to open occlusions, scale down plaque and fat, and fix valves and dead spots. While I mention cardiovascular, my ship is small enough that it can also navigate, clean, and repair the peripheral vasculature, including the cerebral vasculature and the renal and carotid arteries, without blocking the blood flow.
Pretty damn fine invention, isn’t it?
No wonder I was so pleased in the dream.
The medical trade show ended. I was going to return with some friends to my room and then have dinner. But, to get into my room required me to use a combination lock. I’d set it earlier. Now I struggled to remember it. Taking some time, I recalled that I’d used twenty-three as the starting point, and then remembered that I’d gone two up and two back.
Success. I entered my room, pleased with my device and the show, which was now ended.
Dream ended.
Time for another visit with the Alan Parsons Project. This song, “I Wouldn’t Want to be Like You”, came out in 1977. I awoke with it bouncing around my stream, along with songs about rain. I went with Alan Parsons.
Enjoy.
Perfloofcious (floofinition) – of a strong housepet disposition.
In use: “Domesticity changes animals. While dogs have become smaller compared to their ancestors, modern housecats are about sixteen percent larger than they were centuries ago. Despite that, domestic cats are so perfloofcious, most would struggle living as their wildcat cousins live.”
I was down yesterday when I began my writing and editing session. I’m still editing Book Five in the Incomplete States series, An Undying Quest. Halfway through it, I was bummed about what I was reading. I thought, man, I have some work ahead of me to fix these issues.
I didn’t feel like addressing those issues, so I made notes, and continued editing, working on subsequent chapters. When I did, I discovered that those chapters addressed the holes and plot issues, and fixed them.
I was friggin’ astonished. Thinking back to then, I remembering writing and arranging the chapters. I hadn’t realized I’d done this. By that, I mean, I knew that the story went sideways at that point. I knew it as a deliberate choice. I didn’t appreciate how sideways it went. I do remember thinking hard about it, recalling Part One of The Sound and the Fury (Faulkner, 1929), a book that I strongly admire. Back when I first read that novel in sixth grade, I remember gritting my teeth and thinking, “WTF? This is crazy.” Finishing Part One was challenging. But everything is illuminated (sorry, Foer) with the subsequent parts. So I thought, be brave. Do it.
Now, after editing it, once I grit my teeth through the doubted chapters, the rest are magically explained. It comes together.
It’s not the first time I’ve done something like this. A friend, after reading one of my novels, said that he’d created a list of questions about things that bothered and confused him, then he said, “I was amazed because you brought it all together.” I loved that feedback.
So, I’m hanging with it as written. We’ll see if it makes publication, or what changes come about from outside feedback.
Meanwhile, it’s a powerful reminder that when editing, go through the whole damn manuscript before addressing any major changes. I specifically decided to edit the entire series before having any of them edited or read by another because the series is organic. Events opening in the first chapters of the first book are resumed in subsequent chapters and books. Changing one means hunting down and addressing those changes in other chapters and books. It has multiple points of views and storylines. It’s a complicated exploration. Events and decisions are rarely fully explained, as I like inviting readers to take the information and conceive the answers.
The series was originally conceived as a single, fat novel. I felt breaking it apart into eras of growing awareness and development lends itself to telling the story. I was also aware of my wife and her friends’ complaints about holding up large books to read, yes, even in this era of digital publishing.
Time to write and edit like crazy, at least one more time.
