Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Just learned today that a good friend, a few years older than me, is suffering dementia. I’ve been through this with other friends in the last twenty years, so I’m loaded with expectations. Most of them aren’t good. But medical technology keeps advancing and I hope that my buddy and his family don’t endure what many others have gone through.
Fingers crossed, you know?
Mood: Sunnymistic (sunshine fed optimism)
Hang on tight, fellow Terrans. It’s Tuesday, Jan. 30, 2024. We’re approaching the quadfecta of mid-week, mid-winter, end of month, and mid-quarter. These mids dominate as people and organizations assess where they want to be going compared to how their trajectory is shaping up. The year’s first quadfecta is daunting for some as they address resolutions introduced at the year’s beginning. Hope and optimism either take hits or they’re buoyed to new levels of encouragement.
Another sunny day in Ashlandia, where the buildings are old and the history is average. 64 F now, clouds are sneaking in and milling around, preparing to drop new rain later this afternoon. Temperatures are not expected to descend much below 50 F tonight, though. No word on more snow expected but lower temps are crawling our way later this week.
Papi inspired today’s theme music. Papi is my floofstar, a wondrous mix of furry ginger, cream, and orange fur, pink beans and nose, white whiskers and perfect triangle ears. Although a smart fellow, his friendliness is restrained by wariness and distrust. Whether that’s nature or previous interactions with humans isn’t certain.
I opened the front door to let him in. He did his usual thing, chirping hello at me, zipping an orbit around my legs with his tail up, furry side against my calves, and then whipped into a run on the hardwood floors through the house. Playing with him, I gave mock chase. Hearing me pounding up behind him, he spun into a slide to face me and then reproached me with a short but floofnest mew.
As soon as he slid, The Neurons sang, “Oh my my, oh my my, can you boogie, can you slide?” The 1974 Ringo Starr song launched fully into my morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). Naturally I sang it to Papi as he sat beside me and I petted him. Then Tucker — my big black and white bruiser who used to be quite the fighter — meandered up to hear the singing and catch some strokes. Papi emitted a sharply enunciated meow and bolted off for the kibble bowl.
BTW, wouldn’t Kibble Bowl be a good name for a college bowl game? The Kibble Bowl by Purina, playing in the Floof Stadium in Kitty, Oregon. (I didn’t look it up, but I think I made up Kitty, Oregon.) Make sense when you have teams named the Oregon University Ducks and the Oregon State University Beavers. Someone somewhere should also name their teams for cats and dogs. Like, the Bangor Maine Coon Cats or the Jackson South Caroline Pit Bulls.
Stay positive, remain strong, lean forward, and vote. It’s an important election year, one which may require greater quantities of coffee. May as well start now. Here’s the music. Cheers
I watched a young woman walking past the coffee shop. Wearing light-toned blue jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt, a dark blue ball cap let dark hair escape but was pulled low, like she was some manner of gunslinger from wild west days. It was her walk which struck me; her white shoes seemed to slap the concrete and she kept her head down, as though she had to concentrate like the Newman song, left foot, right foot, left foot, and so on.
That walk and style reminded me of someone I knew but no names came to mind. I’ve always been bad with names and faces.
Mood: springergetic
Thou has come a distance, traveler. You’ve reached the holy land of Monday, January 29, 2024. Please sit and rest. Something to drink? Wine, coffee? Something stronger?
We have dense fog and high wind warnings out. Fog isn’t in my view; that’s blue with lazy lacy white ribbons of unrolling clouds. But wind is beating down those trees, shaking the bushes, and causing the cats to hunker and blast back in when they have a chance. Now 62 F outside my home, today’s high will be 70 F.
Wait, what?
Yeah, I read that right on my goto weather site. It’s wonderfully comfortable. Makes you feel like a new lover is touching you. But alas, it ain’t good for our general situation. Our snowbank is only 36% of the standard. We do have more wintering to do and there is generally a change in February and a final winter push in March, but to be at this snowpack level at this time of year is wince-inducing for what the summer will be like. Fingers and toes and legs and arms are crossed that summer won’t be life in a burning charcoal briquet again.
The Neurons have “I’m Just A Singer (In A Rock & Roll Band)” by the Moody Blues playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). I was thinking about what I wanted and needed to do this day when Der Neurons began playing it and I sang along. I know the song well, even though the majority of my high school friends and people since weren’t Moody Blues fans, forcing me to enjoy them alone. Except for “Nights In White Satin”. Lot of my friends knew and enjoyed that song.
What interests me about this 1973 song, and it probably only interests me, is that I played this song last year, that is, January of 2023. What is it about January or this song that they meet in my mind in January?
Looking at last year’s Moody Blues post, I wrote:
Today will reach 55 F or so before the sun vanishes from the Ashlandia sky around the 5:20 PM time period — it’ll be earlier in the mountains’ shadows by an hour or seem like the sun has set — but the forecasters are warning us. Winter is going to get serious. Lower temperatures will be coming by, clouds are collecting, and rain and snow are possible. Then, fanfare, Monday will see an Arctic blast. Lows will freefall into the teens. Daytime highs will scrap into the thirties. Break out extra binkies and some space heaters, hope power doesn’t fail, and take measures to ensure your pipes don’t freeze. The hardest part, though, will be convincing Papi to stay in. He’s gonna test the temps, I know.
Lots to do today. Food and Friends deliveries in about thirty minutes. That’ll eat 90 minutes. Writing and editing. Call Dad. Text Mom. Catch up with Sis. Store for a few items, nothing critical. Finish and submit my taxes. I usually have them in by now. Can’t believe I’ve waited this long.
Stay pos, remain strong, and lean forward. Here we go. Coffee up and dance. Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: spirited
Boom goes the sunshine.
Hello, fellow third-rockers. Sunday, January 28, 2024, has risen. That sun we’re orbiting has taken over the day. Last night at midnight, it was 57 degrees F; now it’s 65 F. No clouds are playing with the sunshine. Precipitation trickled off yesterday afternoon, giving us a glorious day which is way more spring than winter. It feels like 73 F, they tell us, and I agree. The cats and I were wholly astonished by this twist of warmth, though the cats didn’t stay outside because, wind, they whined. They no like wind. Today’s high will be 68 F.
Three US military troops were killed in a drone strike in the middle East, and so tit-for-tat will begin as President Biden promises retaliation sometime and somewhere. I understand the position but don’t like it: each nation, when attacked for whatever reason, promises to get back at the attackers because otherwise there’s a perception of weakness. All that spills into politics; if President B orders retaliation, he’s reviled by many, but if he doesn’t, he’s reviled by many. Striking the balance between the two is difficult. Then there’s the long game about broader theater escalation, and the impact of retaliation on trade, goods and services, and the political machinations outside of that region. It’s a messy, messy world.
In other news, Trump has decried the border deal (yawn) being circulated to protect the US southern border. I say yawn about this because everyone expected this move by Trump. The Wall Street Journal editorial board even warned him not to do that a few days ago, reminding him of the potential damage to the GOP brand in some many words in this election year when the Republicans are trying to offer proof that Democrats are weak on border security. But come on, man. Trump is the man who lost a case against Jean Carroll, but couldn’t stop slandering and defaming her, was tried again and lost in court, and now needs to pay her 83 million dollars. Yet, he continues the very activity which brought him to that point. Will there be another case for Carroll v. Trump? I’m willing to bet there will be, and that Trump will lose again, but continue his ways, because he has no self-control and doesn’t listen to any advice except his own.
“Rock On” by David Essex from 1973 occupies the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). I enjoyed the song as a youngster because of its interesting, unusual sound. It’s so minimalist, with echoes and unusual beats, and a truncated stream of thought riff on rock and roll and youth. It arrived today because, as a boomer, “Rock on,” is one of my go-to phrases, just as Trump’s screaming “FAKE NEWS” is one of his go-to phrases. I say “Rock on” in response to my wife when she says she’ll be over by the home decor section of a store. Naturally, Les Neuons, being the characters they arecranked up the song. It’s their nature and they rarely swerve from it.
Side note, another heavy barrage of dreams were experienced overnight. I’m still recovering from the previous night’s barrage. It did inspire the start of another novel with Quantum Voodoo as the working title, although I’m still editing one and just began writing another with the working title of Level 7, the corollary to the novel in progress being edited, Why.
Be strong, stay positive, and lean forward. Coffee is being consumed in the phantom drawing room. Sorry, virtual drawing room; it’s a new era. Here’s the music. Cheers
Comfloofible (floofinition) – Capable of getting along with animals. Origins: 15th century Middle Floofish.
In Use: “Modern animals living in close proximity to humans have developed sophisticated instincts to find comfloofible humans , and their efforts have significantly helped reduce animal abuse.”
In Use: “Whenever animals find people who seem comfloofible, they shower the individuals with trust and affection, welcoming their touch.”
Recent Use: “The neglected dog, freed from abusive former owners, stayed withdrawn until just the right people entered and tested high on the comfloofible scale; then he was ready to leave and go home with someone.”
They were a couple, with those socks. Skin-tight, displaying every angle and curve of their ankles and feet — they both wore sandals on this warmish winter day — his socks were as golden as a Trump Towers sign, while hers were hot pink. Though he wore loose trousers and she wore capris, both garmets displayed a good six inches of their interesting socks.
They raised some questions, they did.
Michael Seidel, writer 