Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I remember telling other neighborhood children stories that I made up, often citing them as my dreams. Sometimes they started as a dream, but I often just began telling an incident. I remember that once a dozen children a year or two younger stood in my cousin’s garage, listening to me tell them a story that I was making up as I stood there.
I’m streaming the “Logical Song” by Supertramp today. This little ditty was released in 1979. It remains a relevant song to me. As I grew, I thought I understood logic, but learned that logic is rooted in different areas for people. Where their logic has its roots defines how their logic will be applied and the results. This bastardized version of logic often twists compassion, reality, and common sense.
I later read an interview with the songwriter, Roger Hogdson. Some of his comments about what we’re taught as children stayed with me. I found the interview today after thinking about the song, and post some of it here.
This song was born from the questions that haunted me about what is the deeper meaning of life. Throughout childhood, we are told and taught so many things, and yet we are rarely told anything about the purpose of life. We are taught how to function outwardly, but are rarely guided to explore and find out who we are inwardly. From the innocence and wonder of childhood to the confusion of adolescence that often ends in the cynicism and disillusionment of adulthood, so many end their lives having no idea of who they truly are and what they came here to learn. In “The Logical Song,” I ask the fundamental question that is so present in the psyche of today’s modern world but rarely spoken out loud—who are we and what is our true purpose of being here? And that is why I believe it continues to strike a chord in people around the world. I’m continually told how the lyric is often used and discussed in schools, which tells you something.
h/t to Mike Ragogna @ Huffpost
I think about what and how we’re taught as children. Many of the words thrown at us by adults are tossed from anger, irritation, and frustration. The adults issuing the words rarely realized their comments’ impact on young minds because they were dealing with their life and world issues, and speaking from their frustrations, resentments, and irritations. (I prefer to think that the adults didn’t realize it, and weren’t being callous or deliberate in what they said, knowing what it would do to a young mind.)
But sometimes, there were adults who understood. They were the ones building us up, giving us confidence, and pressing us to read, learn, and think.
Floofious (catfinition) – an abundant quantity of furry animals, usually cats.
In use: “The floofious kitchen at the Cat House on the Kings features cats of all sizes, weights, and colors as part of being a no-kill sanctuary for cats.”
You ever encounter a parking lot with such maddening shapes, narrow lanes and tight corners that people seem unable to turn the vehicles without going up over a curb? SF-SJ Bay Area parking lots seemed home to those lots. Bad as they were in California, some of the newer shopping centers’ parking lots in Medford, Oregon (I’m pointing the finger at you, Trader Joe’s) are terrible. Yet, we must suffer and accept, or we wouldn’t have the store.
More of the Kinks today, courtesy of nothing but the random firing of neurons that develop my neural stream.
In retrospect, I think I can track a rough, macro line of the neurons firing from a dream about kinetic energy to brainstorming about kinetic time (and imaginary- and anti-time), Chi-particles (and there most certainly must be anti-Chi-particles) and the arrows of time, to writing like crazy, to sitting back and thinking about the series in progress (Incomplete States) (and novel in progress (Good-bye, Hello)) to imagining people’s reaction upon reading the series that I must be ignorant and crazy. From there, I jump to fantasy, (because, I imagine them saying, “He’s living in a fantasy world, writing that stuff,”) and, voilà, I hear the Kinks’ recording of “A Rock ‘n Roll Fantasy”.
From the Misfits album of 1978, here’s “A Rock ‘n Roll Fantasy”
I’m certain this doesn’t apply to everyone, but it applies to me. That’s why long, solitary walks feel right to me.
Floofcyon (catfinition) – a calm period for cats and other furry creatures.
In use: “The disaster created a floofcyon of togetherness as cats and dogs made room for one another to fit as many as possible into the vehicle, and thus, save them all.”
I dreamed I heard crashing waves and knew it was the sea, and then entered a place. I wasn’t alone but was with friends (yet there was no one I recognized from my life).
We walked grassy paths which sometimes had stone pavers. The paths were narrow. It was a haphazard arrangement. It seemed like the lanes wove around multiple small cottages.
A sense of age permeated the settlement. Made of rough stone, the picturesque cottages had small, red or green doors, low roofs and soft, amber-toned walls. Yellow light, like candle or fireplace light, was shining through their four-pane windows. Many windows had flower boxes with red or white pansies growing in them. Sometimes I saw people, mostly children, in the cottages.
As I walked about the place, I had a sense that they’d been separate cottages which had then had a roof built over them to enclose them. I made that comment, which incensed an older man (tall and white, balding, with a dark, disheveled mustache and goatee), who was apparently the owner. I didn’t know why he was upset; it wasn’t anything derogatory, but he seemed to take it that way. I tried to explain what I meant and why, but he brushed me off.
Meanwhile, a younger white woman with short, light-brown hair, told me to remember to say things from time to time. I gathered from her I was there to give a speech. I was to talk about energy. She was a teacher; she wanted to ensure that I explained kinetic energy correctly.
She and I separated. She was with one group and I was in another. My group were adults. They were all friends. Children made up the teacher’s group. She was talking to the children about kinetic energy and explaining examples, showing how kinetic energy held things up. I started thinking, that’s not what kinetic energy is. She said that kinetic energy was what made walls and chairs stand up. Hearing her, I’d look at her, and she would make fists and cross her arms and say, “Kinetic energy.”
Even though I nodded at her in agreement, I was confused because that’s not what I thought kinetic energy was. I tried remembering other forms of energy so that I could talk to her. We came across a large window. In it were two chairs and a table. I looked from it to her. “Kinetic energy,” she said, smiling and nodding, her fists clenched and her arms crossed.
I awoke.
After writing this and thinking about it, I see how it fits into the series I’m writing, Incomplete States, but more thought is needed.
