Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I turn to the news. Hamas attacked Israel with missiles. Israel declares they’re in a state of war.
A sigh builds and falls.
Here we go again. More war. As so much of it has proven so useful in the past.
Just see how it’s going for Putin after Russia attacked Ukraine.
Mood: positive
Salutations to my fellow corporeal beings. Saturday, October 7, 2023, has reached has – or we’ve reached it. Indian summer continues its presence in Ashlandia, where the children are hard-working, and the cats often nap.
I believe Indian summer has become my favorite season. It feels as if we’ve been given a reprieve from the wearying matters, like wildfire smoke, drought, excessive heat, politics, and mass murders, and we’re just allowed to be and enjoy the days. Tension and stress slide away under the blue skies and bright sunshine. Night air pulls coolness out of the mountains, dragging temperatures down into a comfortable range of upper fifties to lower sixties. The day’s sunshine and air pushing the temps back up to the upper eighties.
I just need to avoid the net to sustain this feeling. Because we know it’s all out there, and the net will deliver it to you, right or wrong, good or bad. But for now, life is beautiful.
Despite this mood and an armada of dreams, The Neurons had little in the morning mental music stream (Trademark rascally), giving up some Mark Knopfler and David Bowie. I didn’t think those songs were up to the moment, so I turned to the net.
Well, one of the Bowie songs was “Space Oddity”. While checking out a video for it, I discovered the Langley Schools Music Project. This was a series of elementary school children playing and singing rock songs in the 1970s. One recorded song is “God Only Knows” by the Beach Boys. The Langley Schools version is imperfect but sweet and innocent, a comfortable accoutrement to the weather and mood.
Hope your morning is as pleasant, relaxing, and peaceful as my own. The cats, black and white (Tucker) and bright ginger (Papi) are soaking up backyard sunshine, contentedly washing after breakfast. I think I’ll take my coffee out there with them, admire them, feel the sunshine, admire the trees — still green back there — and breathe in the clean, sweet air.
Stay pos and be strong. Here’s the music. Cheers
I had a plethora of dreams last night. This was one of the more interesting to me.
I was a younger man. I looked and acted like I was in my thirties, thirty years plus younger than my real life age. But I looked like myself from that time, tanned, thick brown hair, fit and sender.
Life was keeping me busy and active, reading, writing, playing softball and racquetball, hurrying around, doing errands and talking to people.
During all of that, I came to meet someone. I can’t describe them because I never saw them. Nor can I tell you how they sounded because I heard them, but they were speaking and not speaking.
They had interrupted what I was doing to tell me that I was part of a machine. Confusion was my reaction. Further explanations followed that they had created a machine which was wholly organic. I asked them if the were aliens but I don’t recall an answer to that question.
At that point, though, I was busy and just wanted to get on with everything and hustled off. Later, I stopped to get coffee. They accosted me to say again that I was part of the machine. I didn’t understand what they’d said, and asked for clarification. They launched a long and detailed explanation that they were using humans for many features in an organic machine which they’d created, and that I was one of two individuals who’d been selected as the brains.
While flattered, I thought they could have made a better choice for their brain than me, and told them so.
They countered that the functioning they needed from me was far above my conscious thinking level, or the subconscious. I first asked if drinking coffee with caffeine would affect the brain and the machine, and joked about their machine getting hyper from too much caffeine.
They answered that none of that affected it because the brain function they were employing was beyond an organic level.
That prompted me to retort, “Your organic machine is using parts of humans which aren’t organic?” I laughed at that.
They seriously responded, “Yes.”
I asked them if they were talking about the Id, ego, and super-ego, trying to comprehend it. They replied that it was beyond those levels as well, pushing me to ask what was beyond that level?
They asked me if I wanted to see the machine. Enthusiastially, I replied, “Sure.”
“You’re standing in it,” they replied.
Confusion and suspicions squirted up in me. I’d been outside, among trees and buildings, cars, utility wires, streets, and businesses. Now I was in a glistening pink edifice with tall, vaulted areas, reminding me of the inside of a pink church.
“How did I get here?” I asked.
“You were always here.”
That made me think of the movie, The Matrix. Before I could speak, they asked if I wanted to see my part.
“Yes.”
They told me to go further in. Not feeling anything but curiosity, I did, walking until I reached an intersection. Ahead were two pink tubes, which reminded me of short smokestacks. Five feet tall, they were about two feet in diameter.
“Where do I go now?” I asked.
“That’s it, you’re here. You’re the brain on the left.”
I looked at tubes. “Those are brains?”
“Yes, they just need the energy. We wanted to tell you and show you because as your brain changes, our brain will grow more powerful. As it grows more powerful, you will become more intelligent and powerful, and then, so will it. As each of you change and grow, you’ll feed the other. We thought you should be aware of that”
Dream end.
I have no idea what this dream was about. I woke up feeling surprised. Thinking about the dream, I concluded, “That was different.” I wanted to just dismiss it but instead felt compelled to keep thinking about it, as though I was preparing for more to come. Intrigued, part of me thinks, wow, some power is informing me that I’m going to go through great changes. A more cynical aspect thinks that’s highly dubious; it’s just random neurons firing parts of my brain as I sleep.
I’ll let you know if more of the dream ever does come.
Mood: philosophical
Hello, fellow life travelers. Welcome to another day of the journey.
Today is Friday, October 6, 2023. Buoyed by a balmy zephyr it’s already seventy outside and the sunshine rules. 86 F will be our high, I’m assured.
I’m in a reflective mood today, the product of a night of dreams. Days often seem so closely like the one the day before it and so in, like we’re standing in a hall of mirrors looking backwards and forwards to the same thing being endlessly repeated.
Not true, of course. The seasons change. So does the daily weather. So does how we physically feel and appear, typically in small ways, hour by hour, day by day, month by month through our piece of time. Yeah, many changes are seen but unless there’s a sudden sharp intrusion, most of our visible changes come in slow increments. Sometimes the pace of change can take a lifetime. I’m often surprised looking in the mirror or suddenly unable to do something that I used to do without thought. The change was coming but I didn’t see it.
After reading about the speaker selection process going on, The Neurons are having fun. Politicians who horrify me are being mentioned, like Steve Scalise and Jim Jordan. Neither of them have done anything in my purview which generates respect and admiration; instead, I found myself mildly ill at the thought they might become Speaker. I can’t imagine them being reliably intelligent or skillful enough to pull together the GOP and keep them focused. I’d use the metaphor about the GOP being as unmanageable as a herd of cats, but I like cats and don’t want to insult them.
Back to The Neurons. After reading and thinking, I found myself with “Better Man” by Pearl Jam circling the morning mental music stream (Trademark swirling). Jordan? Scalise? Can’t they find a better man or woman? Like that, Eddie Vedder is singing, “Can’t find a better man,” in my mental stream as The Neurons giggle and guffaw. Silly little immature booger heads.
Stay positive and keep reaching for the stars. Let’s embrace this day and go forward. Here’s the music. Cheers
Yes, a large part of our press is all about monetizing the news. Monetizing it means excitement is needed. What’s more exciting than a horse race!
This is just one example of how the press fails the nation (and world) by playing meaningless whataboutisms, and doing sloppy, superficial comparisions between the parties, candidates, and so on, in a tortured effort ‘to be balanced’.
Last night, a group of us met to have ‘a beer’ and talk.
Politics came up. They always do. One of my friends was very excited about an idea he had: what if Liz Cheny was nominated to be House Speaker?
This is in reference to the Republican mess now going in the US House of Representatives. Rep. McCarthy, an R from California, was voted into the office in January of this year. It took fifteen rounds of voting and many promises from him to win the office. Less than ten months into the year, another Republian, Matt Gaetz of Florida, decided that McCarthy should be removed.
I’m simplifying. The GOP is a fractured party these days. I read that there are now six factions. One faction isn’t interested in governing; they just want to make life difficult for everyone until Donald Trump is POTUS again.
The latest fracas which brought down McCarthy was the battle to fund the government and avoid a shutdown. McCarthy ended up making a deal with Democrats to pass the legislation. That angered Gaetz and others. Thus Gaetz made his move.
Former representative Liz Cheney, R out of Wyoming, daughter of career politician Dick Cheney, was voted out of office for her stand on President Trump. A Republican, Trump won the election to be POTUS in 2016 as a bombastic outsider. He’s a polarizing person. He’s been documented to be a serial liar. History has shown him to cheat contractors. He’s constantly in court, suing, and counter-suing people and businesses. Trump made promises that he didn’t keep. He’s been married three times and has been known to have several affairs. All in all, his character, as seen by the public, is less than shiny. Yet, he manages to keep a base of supporters who will do anything for him.
Democrats decided to start impeachment proceedings — twice. The second was initiated after Trump escalated declarations that he hadn’t lost the election to remain POTUS, but had it stolen from him. He made speeches to that effect and claimed there was overwhelming evidence. That ‘evidence’ was presented to courts sixty-one times. No court agreed with him. The SCOTUS refused to hear any cases about it. Yet, Trump persisted. The riot in the Capital on Jan. 6, 2021, was the breaking point for many when Trump refused to take action to mitigate the escalating violence.
Liz Cheney was one of the few Republicans who thought Trump may have broken the law and violated his presidential duties. She agreed that it was incumbent on the House, as a body of government used as part of the checks and balances on executive power, should investigate the facts. Most of the rest of the GOP didn’t agree and Cheney ended up outed from office.
My buddy’s idea is interesting. Everyone agreed that Cheney is ethical and would probably be effective as Speaker.
But could she ever be voted in in the first place? Doubtful that Republicans would; they made little to save her from being voted out of office before. She was derided as a RINO – Republian in name only.
And it’s unlikely that Cheney would pick up votes from Democrats. While she’s considered ethical by most, she still had many positions which Democrats won’t accept. When in office, she voted for and supported Trump’s policies and positions. She was, in effect, a Trump enabler, which is what led to this mess.
Why would Democrats want to restore such an enabler to a position of power? I don’t.
So I told my friend last night.
It was The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly in our backyard, if that movie was done by cats.
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is a 1966 spaghetti western film. That name, ‘spaghetti western’ was given to a series of western films based on the US west, but generally written, directed, and produced by Italians and filmed in Europe. Sergio Leone was one the leaders of this movement. With a string of successful films, he became influential in how westerns were made. This film was one of his masterpieces and judged by film critics to be significant.
Clint Eastwood starred in several spaghetti westerns, including this one. The movie’s morally complex story is that three gunfighters are searching for stolen gold during the American Civil War. The gold is supposed to be buried in a cemetery. The three men are searching and fighting for it while coping with the war going on. They eventually find the cemetery. A final showdown is set up.
It’s a climatic scene, delivered with long shots of the three gunfighters interspersed with tight close ups of the squinting and sweating sunburned men as flies pester them. These movies were always gritty and tense, with impressively realistic details. A music box is playing – yes, it’s part of the story – along with the titular theme song. When the music box finishes, the gunfight commences and finishes the tale.
My cats, Papi and Tucker, aided by a stranger, recreated the scene in the backyard. A jay provided the background ‘music’. Standing in an equilateral triangle about eighteen feet apart, Tucker and Papi faced off against a gray and white stranger.
Tucker is a black and white long-haired/short-haired mix with crazy long, white whiskers. There looks like some Maine coon in those whiskers, along with his ears and face shape. He used to be a fierce fighter but has finally chilled as he’s aged. Papi, the ginger blade, is years younger. He’s been in a few fights – he was in one just last night – including at least twice with Tucker, but prefers to not fight if fighting can be avoided.
A strong wind was blowing. Tucker was in sunlight on a small knoll on which three trees are perched. Their branches blew wildly over his head. The stranger was back by the wooden plank fence between two bushes. Papi was in shadowed dark green grass. The only movement I saw on the three floofs were small eye slides and ear shifts.
Though Tucker isn’t the right ‘colors’ to be Eastwood, his expression was worthy of being Clint’s character. I could easily imagine a cigar in Tucker’s mouth as he stared down the other.
A few minutes into it, Papi slowly settled into a more comfortable watching posture. Tucker followed suit a couple minutes later, encouraging the third cat to do the same. They stayed like that for about three minutes. Then, Papi, I guess growing bored, looked around and discreetly walked off. Tucker lowered his head down for a nap. The stranger carefully shifted, and then went up the fence and away from the scene.
All very anticlimactic. While it reminded me of the famous movie scene, none of these three participants were ugly. I can’t speak for the stranger, but my two can sometimes be good, or bad. Come to think of it, they’re as morally complex as the gunfighters, and just as entertaining.
Mood: energetic
Hallo, fellow earthlings. Greetings from Ashlandia, where the sun is shining, and the inhabitants are spirited.
Today is Thursday, October 5, 2023.
It’s started out at 52 F this morning. Sunshine lit the bedroom with a golden haze.
Wasn’t so nice in the rest of the house, where it was dark, even a little gloomy. Mountains and trees hid the sun until the Earth and sun moved enough to bring the sunshine over the obstructions.
60 F is now on display on the thermometer. Autumn colors have crept into my windows’ views. Sunshine blazes across the colors, sparking stunning vividness in the scarletts, golds, yellows, and greens. A madcap blue sky lids it with perfection. Today’s high will be 86 F.
I think Indian summer may have arrived.
Our beer group met last night. Under fading sunlight and the mountain’s long shadows, a light breeze carried an air temperature of 69 F. Lovely setting for having a beer and chatting with friends. We had a good turnout of twelve people. One member, Mark, has his younger brother in for a visit. Those two joined forces with two other members to build a pergola in Mark’s backyard. Tales of mistakes made and corrected were shared for some of our time until discussion about the vacated House Speaker position.
From there, we strangely pivoted to cars. “What car that you owned would you like to have back?” one member queried us. 1960s muscle cars were mentioned by many. A pickup truck was thrown in. I would opt for my orange 1974 Porsche 914. My wife and I had much fun in that car, tooling around San Antonio and the local Texas countryside, targa top off, sunshine soaking us. Conversation then shifted to rock concerts people had attended.
Eavesdropping on the conversation, Les Neurons began playing Bob Seger singing “Fire Lake” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark fallacious). This mellow 1980 song has such a throwback feel that brackets a story-telling mode, ending with a philosophical question, “Who wants to go to Fire Lake?” With Bob Seger’s throaty whiskey delivery, it’s a pleasant song to have in the MMMS.
Stay positive, be strong, and keep your head in the clouds and keep reaching for the stars. Coffee is being consumed. Time for the day to be embraced. Here’s the music. Cheers
