
Andrzej Sapkowski Said

Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not

Finished. Done. Over. Completed.
Yes, I’ve completed rev five of the novel in progress. Its current working title is Memories of Why. Speculative historic fiction. Couple cups of science fiction tempered with a pint of fantasy and a few tablespoons of revisionism. 523 pages in Word. 160,000 words. Probably over three hundred large cups of coffee. Began writing it in March of last year. Started with a character — a cherub — and their imprisonment and sugar addiction. Grew from there. Humans are about as involved as Martians. Or the reverse. Azure Iarnum — AI — had a bigger role than Humans or Martians. Dragons played a small role, as did ‘spaceships’.
Next: revise again. I think I’m getting somewhere.
I came across a plague in Ashlandia’s railroad district. The plaque identified the tree beside it as a slippery elm and announced that it had been the tree of the year.
The tree of the year is an annual tradition in our city. Stepping back, I admired its height and thick, expanding branches. Sunlight backlit them against blue sky.
I didn’t have a camera with me — yep, not even a phone — so I don’t have a photo of the plaque nor tree. I ran a search for a photo of it but nada emerged. I need to return to the scene with my phone, I guess.
Forty-seven years had passed since the tree had been honored. It still looked like it could be the tree of the year.
Mood: sunergized
This. Is. March. 16. 20. 24.
Sunshine began painting Saturday’s morning sky a bright blue. Clouds fled the scene; not for them, they decided, dragging cooler temperatures away with them. The bedroom walls and then the living room were painted gold with sunlight as Earth rotated and its orbit crossed Sol’s path, shifting the sun south across the eastern sky. Spring edges closer with kitty steps. We struck a high of 72 F yesterday when they called for less; meteorology speculation indicates we’ll strike a high of 70 F today. I think my house will see 74 F.
TL/DR: We use RLT and just purchased a pod.
My wife and I began using red light therapy about two years ago. This involves leaping out of the car and releasing a primal scream whenever we’re driving and stop at a red light. It’s a great relief although other drivers and their passengers seem to freak out.
Ha! Just kidding. Red light therapy (RLT) is photo biomodulation. That explains it all, doesn’t it? The gear we buy uses diodes that transmit red light and near infrared at 660 nm and 850 nm. Supposed to help with skin issues, inflammation, muscle damage, and speed healing. That’s what began drawing my wife to it. I became intrigued after I learned that celebrities and athletes swear by it. Both wife and I have swelling and inflammation matters. Some of her problems were side effects of meds she took to combat her RA and generally deteriorating health.
So, first we bought a RLT mask. It worked pretty well so we upped our involvement to a RLT belt. Made by Life Pro, it ran us about $150 with discounts. FedEx delivered it November 8 last year, so we’ve been using it for about four months.
The belt is about 50 inches long and seven inches wide. My wife uses it for various RA flares in her hips, back, shoulders, arms, hands, along with Renaud’s syndrome. Renaud’s causes her fingers and hands to become cold and numb. They turn white and bend out of shape. This RLT kicked its ass.
I use it for blood circulation. I began experiencing edema a few years ago after a BHP closed my urethra and blocked my ability to pee. They’re not certain what’s behind my edema. Venous insufficiency in my ankles and lower legs is usually cited but it could be a problem with my lymphatic system.
I find that thirty minutes with that thing each day provides major relief to my edema. It is used in conjunction with other changes. I elevate my legs and massage them each evening. The skin is treated with EB40. EB40 is made by Ebenal and has 40% urea cream 40% plus 2% Salicylic Acid. I exercise but I’ve always exercised. At this stage, I do light free weights with stretching, wall sitting and planking, jump-roping (which I suck at), and walking. I walk about 7 to 8 miles a day.
After we experienced success with the RLT belt, my wife began telling friends about it. Bottom line, they’ve bought it for arthritis in their hands and wrists, back problems, old injuries, feet problems. All are amazed by the results after just over a month of use.
So, we’re escalating. We bought a TLR pod. Looks like a sleeping bag with red lights lining its innards. Over 2400 in all. Cost us a grand and will be delivered this week. We’ll see what happens.
Today’s music is by Fitz and the Tantrums. Their 2013 song, “Out of My League”, occupies the morning mental music stream. Nothing that I know triggered it. I inquired of The Neurons but they stayed mute. Fitz and the Tantrums are categorized by most as pop and neo soul. I think that’s an apt description. Amazing how pop, rock, soul, jazz, blues, and progressive morph to reflect new ideas, tastes, and needs. Keeping up is a challenge. I fail at it pretty miserable. I last played this song five years ago.
Stay pos, be strong, and lean forward. Register and vote, too, please, if you’re part of a democracy somewhere. Coffee has been gliding into my gullet. It’s 64 F outside. Look at that sunshine.
Here’s the music. Cheers

Mood: aggroptimstic
Friday, March 15, 2024, has been blessed by abundant sunshine, praise floof. The cats love it except, today was also blessed by gusting winds. Probably something to do with March in the northern hemisphere, right? Although the temperature was already 50 F, the cats eschewed the outside sunshine for the comfort of the sunshine streaming in through the windows in the wind-free living room. The omniscient weather they think today’s high will crest at 66 F. Yesterday’s high was supposed to be 61 F but my corner saw 66 F, so I’m slithering out on that limb and prophesizing a higher high around our place, and I’m not talking THC, either.
I’m eagerly awaiting the results of the Trump family running the RNC. The new co-chairs, Lara Trump (she with the dead eyes) and Michael Whatley, were personally selected by DJ Trump. The Whatley/Trump RNC declared that they’re dedicated to ‘election integrity’.
I wish they’d be more devoted to ‘reality integrity’. If they paid more attention to reality, they’d know that the fraud that DJ Trump pushes about the stolen election has been shown to be bullshit. Over sixty court cases validate the bullshit verdict. Judges of both parties at several levels found there was no evidence to support Trump’s bullshit. State election officials all found no evidence presented to support the stolen election claim. In fact, if the RNC put more reality underfoot, they would discover that former POTUS Trump is indicted for trying to undermine the official, legal, results that resulted in him being shown the WH door.
But the RNC is leading the TBP now, TBP meaning the Trump Bullshit Party. Little of the ‘Republican’ party is visible under the avalanche of Trump-centric garbage being spewed and supported. Sure, the RNC put out a memo to “Grow the Vote”. They expressed interest in getting more voters who don’t show a propensity to vote Republican.
Then they fired sixty people, including the ones running the Black and Hispanic outreach programs.
Frankly, I’m predicting a wobbly, angst driven 2024 TBP which will end with DJ Trump rejected by voters again. A shower of petulant anger, finger pointing, and angst will rise in the aftermath. Lots of lies will be brought up by DJT. He’ll probably claim he won despite all the evidence that he lost, and that he ran the most beautiful campaign ever.
And the TBP will goose step along with his claims, fueling the confusion and polarization on which the TBP thrives. Time will tell us if I’m right. Maybe I’m hopped up on caffeine and have it totally wrong. Hope not.
Today’s music comes from being out back (with Papi, the ginger wonder cat) on the patio this morning. I was considering the sky, which harbored some clouds in the blue sea over my head. Catching on that I was thinking about the sky, The Neurons began playing “Fall on Me” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). The 1986 R.E.M. song is about things falling from the sky, so I can see why The Neurons chose it.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote. I’ll do the same after I suck down more coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers
Female friends took another female friend clothes shopping. 103 years old, the third friend had declared, “I’m tired of wearing bras. I want a garment to stop me from jiggling but I’m swearing off bras.”
My wife — who never wears a bra at home — exclaimed, “103 and she’s swearing off bras now? Boy, she has a lot more tolerance than me.”
Tradfloof (floofinition)– Slang for ‘traditional floof’, a phrase meant to convey households or people that hold to a traditional view of a proper pet for their culture. Also sometimes referred to as a ‘tradpet’. Origins: Western culture, circa 2016, via the World Wide Web.
In Use: “In the United States, a tradfloof is generally considered to be a domesticated cat or dog who shares living space with people.”
In Use: “Sizing up Merrit, Karla concluded that Merrit had a tradfloof, and it was a cat, to judge from the scratches marking Merrit’s right forearm. Karla also thought it probable that the tradfloof had suddenly taken a sudden issue with having its belly rubbed.”

Mood: groovey
It’s March 14, 2024, and we’re swimming in blue skies and sunshine. It doesn’t make this a warm day — yet. The furnace is still running, dragging up the house’s internal temperature as the day recovers from its 33 F start in our area. 44 F is what the digital thermometer now reads. We expect its readings to climb over 61 today.
That’s why I like spring. I enjoy the shift from bareness and cold, or the white of snow and ice, to the brisk green sprouting, sunshine, and warmth. Summer is lovely but becomes cruel, overdoing it with heat intensity. Thunderstorms add a troublesome facet in the summer, lancing the hot dry land with lightning and sending fires across the fields and mountains and smoke through the sky. Spring is full of possibilities and growth. It feels like a season to relax.
I skimmed the news and marked things to go back and read in depth. Hopeful signs, suitable for spring, emerges along several trajectories. Nothing to get excited about — yet. They must play out. That’s the most difficult aspect of modern life for me. I’m given so much information to digest. It accumulates and shifts with the slow effort of tectonic plates until some resolutions emerge. Often takes years, though.
I occupy a mellow place this morning. Sensing that — they can be very observant — The Neurons lined the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) with Eric Clapton’s acoustic version of “Layla”. The initial rock version came out in 1970. Eric Clapton and his buddy, Duane Allman, playing behind the curtain called Derek and the Dominos. The accoustic version came about 22 years later, 1992. MTV was involved.
There’s a lot of personal behind this song for Clapton. George Harrison was his running buddy. They played for Delaney and Bonnie and Friends on the road. George was married to Pattie Boyd. Clapton fell in love with her. This song helped him express his suppressed feelings. A model, Boyd inspired George to write four songs about her while Clapton wrote three. She divorced Harrison in 1977 and married Clapton in 1979, divorcing him ten years later.
Stay strong, be positive, and lean forward. I’m leaning forward for my coffee cup at the moment, strategically placed right of my computer, but an arm’s length away. That leaves room for my black and white wonder floof, Tucker to get up here and supervise my ‘puter efforts without knocking my coffee over or getting fur into it. I’m very fond of not having fur in my coffee.
Here’s the music. Cheers