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 Mentoring Dream

I was out on a plaza. Foot traffic ebbed and lifted around me. Nuances of a mid-afternoon carried late spring tones. This was no place known in RL.

Though it was outside, long white marble counters offered multi-media positions. One could step up and use a computer, television, or other digital device.

It seemed like I was on a break and just meandering. A famous man approached me. Tall, white, with curly hair, he wore a black suit of a white shirt. “I want hire you,” he said, “and mentor your development.”

In a dream epiphany, I knew that’s why I was on that plaza. Thanking him for the opportunity, I asked for time to think about it. He was amenable. Handing me a zip drive, he suggested I look at the files on it for a better idea of what he’s looking for and prepare a resume to give him. I agreed.

I headed to a computer station to explore the drive. While there, a middle-aged short and slender swarthy woman with tumbling curly hair approached and basically gave me the same pitch. I asked for time to think about it. She was a little disappointed that I didn’t immediately accept and made a pitch. She told me that letting her mentor me would open doorways for me.

I was flattered but adamant. I needed time to think about it and would not be rushed. She said there was a file on the disk which was a story and asked me to rewrite it so she would have more insight into my current levels.

The woman left and my wife joined me. I told her all that happened and showed her the discs. We began looking at the contents together. Days passed in a flicker of light. The second potential mentor drifted past, eyeing me, and trying to see what I was doing. I knew that she’d wanted and expected a piece of writing that first night, but I said nothing to her.

My wife drifted away. The female mentor stepped over and asked me who my wife was. The impression struck that she didn’t know who my wife was, so I explained. The mentor responded, “She’s not included in this.”

I returned to the disk and resumed writing. The female mentor continued circling. Reminded me of birds in orbit over a dead thing. Then the male mentor returned and said, “Good job.”

The end

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Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: Coffeetized

There I was, at the Mother’s Day cookout. Outside Mom and her beau, I’m the oldest there, edging toward 68. I didn’t feel like a day over 30.

More importantly and striking, we had six mothers there. Three were also grandmothers. One — Mom — is a great-grandmother.

Four generations sharing burgers, sausages, and hotdogs, salad and corn, wine, beer, and sodas, and a mighty sprawl of dessert. Great way to celebrate a holiday. And for this one, all was well.

It’s the day after Mother’s Day, Monday, May 13, 2024. Summer is shouldering into today’s weather. The sky is bursting with hot sunshine. Clouds linger, spectators on the fringes, hanging on to see what happens. 57 F at the mo’, 81 F is mentioned as a high in several weather forecasts.

A song by Alice in Chains, “No Excuses”, rattles around the morning mental music stream (No Trademark that I know). Les Neurons were pretty transparent in their cogitating and choice today. The inclusion of the 1993 song has origins in both dreams and general thinking.

Per cool, stay chill and positive, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music video. Cheers

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Some Funny Memes to Share

Mother’s Day and Political Memes

Take them in and grin, giggle, and guffaw at existence. I particularly enjoy the Presidential goals. True yet funny, it aptly encapsulates GOP goals and progress for most of the last forty years.

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Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

Funny how memory serves and disserves us. My recollection of events varies from others. Not surprising; so much of it is shaped and handled by private agendas, shaded by emotions, chiseled by what has happened since.

I know it’s a component of why I write. Trying to understand the intricacies of memories and the dynamics of being, I look into myself for understanding and then spin this process into fiction.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: Percoffeecatiated

Happy Mother’s Day in the U.S. Hope all you mothers enjoy of celebration and joy.

Today is Sunday May 12, 2024. Clouds without breaks occlude the sun in the Churchill Valley where the cities I’m visiting are located. It’s 50 F now. Weather elements will lift our temp to 65 F. That sullen winter taste in the air has melted away. We’ve returned to a cold, wet, spring essence.

My Mother’s Day mental perambulations are searches for how to help Mom. She’s tired, often in pain, fighting to moving and thinking, but everything tires her to deep levels. She wants and needs help. Finding it is now my mission.

There are agencies to help. They’re mired in bureaucracy. Nothing has an easy approach or quick timelines. Phone calls, emails, and chats will be the upcoming week’s norms.

Her own habits, experiences, and expectations are a significant obstacle. She expects to bounce back but the bounce is gone. She wants or needs, which I guess should be married as a word, waeds, to do the cleaning she has always done, to be hygienic and neat. These things take hours and hours. Her zip has diminished to a lumpy trundle.

Her decline has been going on a while, since ‘The Fall’. That seemed to trigger everything; she’s been fighting against its ripples for over a decade. Classic story, definitely in America, probably in many other countries as well. She confided to me last night that she fell hard five times in the first three days after returning home. That is no good.

The morning mental music stream (Trademark flailing) has a song called “Paralyzer” orbiting it. The Finger Eleven beats started my mental journey while I was still abed. My brain was gyrating around the things wanted and the things needed, and the destinations and journeys of all the players when the 2007 tune kicked in. It’s not an even matchup between the song and the morning, except I was dealing with a sense of paralysis and a resistance to moving. Then I told myself I’d treat me to a cuppa coffee if I left the bed, dressed, and started doing things. I’m a sucker for a promise of coffee.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward against the winds of resistance, and Vote Blue in 2024. The promise of coffee has been fulfilled. Here’s the music video.

Here we go. Cheers

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Infloofpacitate

Infloofpacitate (floofinition) – Movement, positions, or activities limited by an animal or animals’ presence. Origins: Early Common Floof Era, from Middle Floofish. First noted use in England, circa 600 CE.

In Use: “Many people find themselves infloofpacitated by an unwillingness to disturb a furry friend napping on their body”

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