Sunday’s Theme Music

A song fragment (songment?) had been trapped in my stream’s turbidity, no quite accreting enough other notes to become fully recalled, and driving me insane. All I could hear is the lead vocalist say, “Come on, move me.” Some guitar then followed.

Four A.M. this morning, the song finally fully entered my stream. It’s a little ditty called “Going Mobile” by a band called “The Who” that was released in 1971. Included on one of my favorite Who albums, Who’s Next, I don’t think of “Going Mobile” as their finest work, with interesting instrumentation lacing together some confusing and conflicting ideas.

Play the tape machine, make the toast and tea
When I’m mobile
Well, I can lay in bed
With only highway ahead
When I’m mobile, keep me moving

h/t to songlyrics.com

Being a literal sort, I always thought, how can he lay in bed with only highway ahead?

At least my brain can rest easy with the song remembered at last, and I can go on with other matters. Back to you, Jim.

December 2, 2018 0

The Old Friends Dream

I dreamed that I was with a lot of old friends. People I’d gone to school with, neighborhood friends from my youth, and people I’d worked with around the world while in the Air Force, or working in Progressive Angioplasty Systems, Tyco, Internet Security Systems, and IBM were there. Writing friends were there, along with sports and drinking buddies.

No occasion that I know was mentioned for the gathering. We were just having a big party in an enormous ballroom, a place so large that I couldn’t see the other side. Well-lit, round tables were set with crystal and silver.

Weirdly, I entered after being out with some, and that’s when the dream proper began. I’d been with one person who I no longer wanted to be with. I had no enmity with him, but he was drunk and being obnoxious, so I was avoiding him. As I was skirting where he was, a group of friends streamed in. Seeing me, they shouted, “There he is,” and waved, happy to see me. I joined them, and we chatted, having a good time.

Then Chris suggested we go somewhere. “Where?” I asked.

“Who cares,” he said, with the friendly and easy smile that he habitually presented.

“Let’s go,” I said. “We can take my car, but I don’t want to drive.”

Chris said, “I’ll drive.”

We got into my silver Mazda. I was in the back seat. Setting off, we talked about where to go. Chris came up with a suggestion, but nobody knew where it was. “Use the GPS,” I said. Chris knew how to do that and pressed the buttons needed.

With my next awareness, we were at a more intimate setting. Many of my friends were there in their party clothes, but everyone seemed tired, I think from partying so much. They were barely interested in the music.

And that was amazing, because up on stage was a young Marvin Gaye with a back-up group. All of them were in amazing bright blue outfits with white shirts.

Marvin finished his performance. I looked around, like, why isn’t anyone applauding. As I began clapping, so did someone else. Putting his hands out, Marvin said, “Hey,” and everyone else sat up and applauded.

Then Jeff was by my side. Pointing at Marvin, he said, “He’s wearing a one.”

Yes, the number one was in black on a white porcelain appearing badge that hung down from his shoulders on his front. Seeing Jeff point at him, Marvin came over to speak with us. I was awed to be in such close proximity to such a creative and intelligent person. He was so pleasant and polite. We shook hands and chatted, and then Jeff, pointing again at Marvin, said, “That one is for London Park, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Marvin agreed.

Jeff bobbed his head with enthusiasm. “I was there, I’ve been there.”

Bewildered, I wanted to ask, where’s London Park? I’ve never heard of London Park. How do you know the one is for London Park?

I didn’t get the chance, because that’s where the dream ended.

December 1, 2018

J.K. Also Said

December 1, 2018 0

The Goal Problem

Goals are great. I establish them to help create a direction for me, motivate me to keep going, and to keep on track. They help me measure progress, providing a tangible foundation for examining how I’m doing.

My problem with goals I’ve found is that I think of them as the destination. Then, I reach the goal and discover it was just a milestone to somewhere else.

That doesn’t reduce their effectiveness, but it is a reminder for me that I don’t always appreciate the larger situation. That works out, though, because setting goals that are small enough to achieve are great in helping me gain confidence and traction.

What I’ve realized is that goals are not the end, but I tool toward reaching for the end.

December 1, 2018 5

December First

Walking through sun and shadow latticed cold air, stepping through my plumes of condensation, splashing through puddles, and looking for rainbows as drizzles and sprinkles come and go.

Snow blankets the ridges and peaks across the valley, our first of the season. The snow level seems to be about thirty-five hundred feet. As always, its stark contrast against the sky is a rugged beauty, like a natural metaphor for change.

My mood is high. I hesitate to say it aloud, so I write it instead, but I feel a shift in my energy. I didn’t think the date would make a difference, and maybe it doesn’t. Perhaps I’m feeling a temporary shift and it’s at a personal level, but I hope it’s a broader and longer lasting shift in the world’s energy one that brings the world more peace, justice, and happiness.

I would blame it on my peppermint mocha, but I already felt it before I reached the coffee shop or tasted my drink. Time to write and edit like crazy, at least, you know, one more time.

December 1, 2018 3

Floofanym

Floofanym (floofinition) – the other names by which a housepet is know, either to one another, or to the people they live with; a housepet’s secret name; the names given to a housepet seen by others when their real name(s) aren’t known.

In use: “Although her name was Jade, her floofanym was Pokey, given for the lazy deliberation with which she enjoyed investigating things.”

December 1, 2018 1

Saturday’s Theme Music

Two songs are competing in my stream today. I can’t remember one of them. I remember two lines and a few guitar chords and licks. I hear the vocals, know the voice, but can’t remember the vocalist, song, or group. Using the few clues I have, I’ve hunted for its identification, and I’ve failed to find satisfaction. So, screw you, song.

The other is another Aerosmith song. Reflecting on that, a room mate was forced on me during part of my assignment in the Philippines (1976-1977). Forced is the correct expression because regulations forbid people in my specialty, which involved controlling nuclear launches, from having a room mate. Yet, most of my assignments found me with a room mate for part of the time, as the local commanders would sign a waiver to the reg. Of course, the waiver was usually rescinded after the command got wind of it, and the room mate was found another place to live.

This guy, Eric, was a large Aerosmith fan. He had a huge stereo, big speakers, amp, turntable, tuner, equalizer, tape player, but only four albums. Two of them were Rocks and Toys in the Attic, so I heard them a lot. I realize, that’s why I know those albums so thoroughly.

Anyway, today I’m streaming “Same Old Song and Dance” (1974). Sure, it’s December, a brand spanking new month, the last month of 2018. 2019 and January will soon be on us. But you know, it feels like the same old story, the same old song and dance, my friends.

It’s some ol’ school rock.

December 1, 2018 4

Clothing and Cats

Getting ready for Friendsgiving, I selected my attire. I would wear a green vee-neck Tommy Bahama sweater.

I’d bought that sweater the year I moved from Half Moon Bay, California, to Ashland, Oregon, which was 2005. Funny, though, I bought it while on a visit Half Moon Bay to spend Thanksgiving with friends. I bought that sweater a few days before the holiday, and wore it that Thanksgiving. Here I was, thirteen years later, putting it on for another Thanksgiving.

I’d been thinking about my clothes for several previous days before that. The shirt I’d worn earlier that day had been bought in 1998. The one worn the day before was also bought in the late nineties. My shirts, sweaters, and underwear seem to last a while. My jeans and shoes don’t.

I was thinking all of this because I was thinking about cats. I’d moved up with two in 2005, Pogo and Scheckter. Pogo died the following year, killed by a car. His ashes are in our bedroom.

We moved to this new house in 2006, now with just Scheckter. Within three months, we also had Lady and Quinn.

Lady was a rescue. A man I knew through the coffee shop had rescued her. I used to buy him coffee and bagels, and donate cat food to him. Lady had been living behind the movie theater. He started feeding her but it took a year to earn her trust. Now his health was falling and he had to move. Moving meant giving up five of his six cats. He could take one. He had homes for four more. Only Lady, skittish and shy, didn’t have a home.

Then, on a cold, windy midnight, I’d gone out to call Scheckter in. Quinn instead turned up. Since it was a nasty night, we gave him food and shelter. We hunted down his owners and returned him to them, but he kept coming back to us. They moved, leaving him behind.

So, for seven years, it was Scheckter, Lady, and Quinn, three wonderful cats who got along well. 2013 found us losing Scheckter, and then Lady, leaving just Quinn.

Not to worry, though. Three more cats, Tucker, Boo Radley, and Papi (a.k.a. Meep), found us. We were a four-cat family for a while, even though Tucker, Boo, and Papi often fought. As Scheckter and Lady were dying, Tucker showed up and begged for food and help. We tried to find his people but no one claimed him. He had medical issues which took a few years and some money to resolve. Then came Boo, also begging for food, and also unclaimed. Next was Papi.

Quinn remained the sweet lord of the house. He was diagnosed with lymphoma in this past September and died two days before Thanksgiving. He had a strong will until his last four days. I tried keeping him comfortable and helping him, but he finally told me, I’m done. I didn’t want to accept it, but you can’t argue with some things. I cried and let him go.

We’re back down to three cats. They get along better, although there are daily hissing encounters. I couldn’t help but thinking as I dressed on Thanksgiving, I wish my cats would last as long as my clothes.

November 30, 2018 7

The Other Shoe

I’ve been suspicious lately. It’s just the things that’ve been happening. I feel like I’m being set up.

I have a weekly beer get-together with some friends. I wasn’t planning to go and passed that word along. Then, I changed my mind at the last minute and sent out an email telling the gang that I’d be there after all. Three others showed up who’d originally said they weren’t coming, telling me that they had come because I said I was coming. Well, thank you.
My wife’s friend told her that she had a wonderful time talking with me at a party. She said that I was charming. I almost spit out my wine when I heard that. My wife said that she noted to her friend, “Well, he was well-lubricated that night.”
The baristas keep serving me free coffee. I’m suspicious. What do they want? Are they giving everyone free coffee? Are they giving anyone else free coffee? What’s their motive?
Our Friendsgiving host gave me a huge hug and a grin when I arrived, and told me, “I’m so happy to see you. I’m so glad you came.” I figured that he must’ve been high.
An actor showed up at Friendsgiving, causing a stir. People later looked him up on IMDB and were all abuzz at his credits. I didn’t know the guy and barely said ten words to him (it was a big crowd in a small place) but when he left, he sought me out and gave me his card, telling me, “I’m trying to write fiction, and several people told me that I need to talk with you. Please give me a call when you have a chance.” “Okay, I will,” I said, eyeing him, taking his card, and wondering, what are you up to? He looked harmless, but he is an actor.
Got fan email telling me how much they loved one of my novels, how well written and smooth it was. I thought, what kind of con are you trying to pull? I wondered if they had the right author.

All this in less than two weeks. It’s more than I can take. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, if you know what I mean.