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.

Sunday’s Theme Music

It’s pretty out there, and pretty nice, employing simple terms. The wind has taken some time off, fog didn’t show up, and the rain has granted a respite. Now 42 F, we expect 50 by the day’s end. More minutes were for our daylight, with the sun and Earth negotiating an agreement to give us one more minute on either end of sunshine’s visit, 7:37 and 5:04, AM and PM.

Birds are lovin’ it. A blue flash at my bathroom window arrested my activities. A stellar jay was on the stacked Adirondack chairs on the covered patio out there. Lovely color, those birds are, with a black head accenting their blue bodies. A acorn was in his beak. After popping his head in several directions to regard me, standing still and naked on the glass’s other side, he conducted a stop and go inspection, with a few hops tossed in, looking for a dignified burial site for his prize. Two other stellars joined him, showing their moral support, I suppose. The acorn wasn’t meant for my yard, as the jays headed off with the acorn still in one’s beak.

Up front, robins briefly visited, followed by a few wrens. Oddest thing, I heard no noises out of any of the birds. It was like Silence of the Birds. Also, neither of my cats witnessed any of this. One was following me around the house while the other napped in a chair.

This is the middle of January, 23, the fifteenth, a Sunday. About four percent of the year has passed. Time is not letting up.

When I was bird-watching, The Neurons took some time to hatch a song out of the activity. (See what I did there? Sorry, it’s pre-coffee.) I found myself singing, “West End Birds”, based on the Pet Shop Boys’ 1984 song, “West End Girls”. The Neurons were doing this, even as I pointed out that I’m on Ashland’s southern end. The Neurons tried accommodating me, singing “South End Birds” but none of us were impressed with that result. Then The Neurons pointed out that direction is relative and that we’re on the west end of the pass. As we weren’t specifying a place, west end worked. Just think of it as being on the pass’s west end, okay? Without coffee, I easily surrendered to their logic.

Anyway, skipping those details and jumping ahead, today’s theme music is “West End Girls”. It’s an interesting synth-pop song and fit well back in that musical era, an era which is still going on and started before the Pet Shop Boys and synths arrived. With pop and rock, with all music, going back and back, and back, it’s about finding the desired song to tell the story, share the emotions, or drive the direction. That’s my take.

Let’s try to stay positive as the year progessing and move ourselves forward as individuals, families, nations, and a species. First, I suppose, we need to find common ground on how ‘forward’ is defined.

Coffee is calling. So is a cat, so I’m up and off on a twofer. Here’s the music. I enjoyed pausing to watch the video and listen to the song. For that little slice of existence, I was back in another time.

Cheers

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Floofagogy

Floofagogy (floofinition) – The science and art of teaching animals.

In use: “After he was rescued, Buddy Guy, a big tabby Tom, acquired knowledge of floofagogy and started instructing kittens and ferals being fostered by his new human about how to be a cat living with people.”

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Heavy winds powered us to Saturday, January 14, 2023. Winds began last night, a bit before midnight and have only given us small breaks. Still, they’re not hugely destructive in our area, except to our minds as we say, “Wind and rain again?” While rain is good in general, the cisterns are full so it’s just flowing away. Snow is needed. Snow, snow, snow up in the mountains. Fingers crossed that our snow needs are being met.

Sunrise was at 7:38 this morning, a dull light through a gray skein, glistening off a wet landscape. Temperature is 41 F. Sunset has moved back to 5:03 in the late afternoon, giving us a few more minutes of daylight, which is highly friggin’ welcomed. Gonna rain all day but the high temperature should kiss the low fifties. Meanwhile, across the country in Ashland, VA, sunrise was at 7:25 AM and sunset is 5:14 PM.

Thinking of all this, I acknowledge what a complainer I am. I like change and variation in my daily weather, but even if that happens too much, I’ll complain. Complaining is the nut of who I am, I think. Everyone must have a hobby. Complaining seems to be mine.

Papi, aka the Ginger Blade and the Little Prince, though he’s not that little any longer, matching Tucker in weight, height, and girth, is not a wind fan. Doesn’t stop that floof from demanding that he be let out. Not long before he begs to return back inside, and then, lo, insisting that no, outside is where he really wants to be. Once, he went out the back door on the patio, got a wind shove with all of its noise, trotted back in, and then turned around and went back out. Floofs. They can be sweet, endearing, and exasperating.

I was going to use “It’s Raining Again” by Supertramp, after The Neurons heard me say, “It’s raining again.” But I overruled them after reading of Robbie Bachman’s death. He was the drumming force behind Bachman-Turner Overdrive, or BTO. BTO’s music was part of the high school scene for me. “You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet” from 1974 was almost our theme music when my wife and I were dating. She loved it when I sang “You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet” to her when the song came on the radio. What can be said but we were in love? Another musician from my youth gone, another one to thank for their music and its impact on my life.

Time to get cracking. I’ve been sipping my coffee. The coffee fuel has reached The Neurons. They’re impatient to get to the writing part of the day. Stay positive and test negative, a hope that’s really beyond our control. Fingers crossed that when you do test positive, it’s as soft and fleeting as a spring zephyr. Here is BTO. Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music

Friday. I’m ready for the weekend. Wednesday felt like Friday. So did Thursday. Now Friday is here, and Friday feels like Friday.

I ruminated about what that means, when a day feels like Friday. It feels like you’re ready to rest and have a change from your routines. Mind you, I don’t work. I set my own routines. So all this is a mind game for me. The mind is winning so far.

Yeah boy, it’s Friday, January 13, 2023. Last night’s winds were the worse of this season’s offerings. They reached sound levels where I looked out expecting to see huge animals stampeding past. I’ve been in hurricanes, typhoons, and tornados. These wind sounds didn’t achieve those levels, but they did inspire The Neurons to say that if this keeps up…

It didn’t keep up, though. After a few power short power outages, not even enough to restart the clocks, but enough that the clocks opened and closed their eyes, the winds finally tailed off in the night’s middle. Rain kept going and still is. Today’s high is 54 degrees F. We’re at 52. After peaking, we’ll going to go downhill into the lower forties. Still not bad temperatures, right? Snow was sitting on some of our surrounding mountain ridges and peaks yesterday. We can’t judge that and whether our drought is over until it’s all done in the spring, but at least rivers and cisterns are full for now.

Sunrise brought enough light through the clouds after 7:39 this morning to look around for damages and see none in my area. Hope the other areas fared as well. I’ll check it out before the sun checks out at 5:02 this evening.

Wind thoughts brought “The Zephyr Song” into the morning mental music stream today. The Red Hot Chili Peppers released it back in the new century’s early years. Lot of rhyming going on in it. It’s a mellow tune with a few harder splashes about being on a wind and connecting with others. Those are thoughts I entertained when I was a teenager, the “wouldn’t it be neat to ride a wind whenever you wanted to, go wherever you wanted, meet others and take them with you” variety of mind playing. Naturally I thought of riding last night’s wind, hurtling the Cascades and Sierra Nevada, thundering over the rivers and plains until energy is spent and a calmer place is found.

Coffee has arrived to soothe The Neurons and uplift the rest of the body. Stay positive and test negative. Worry about tomorrow the day after tomorrow and move it forward. Here is the song. Cheers

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The Writing Moment

My writing moment came yesterday afternoon. I awoke in a grumpy mood yesterday morning and was in full curmudgeon mode before my first cup of coffee.

Some of it could be put on my reaction to some of my wife’s comments. I was feeling sour about my novel in progress. First draft was finished and now I’m reconciliating, slicing, and dicing. It mostly went well, but sometimes a section was encountered that forced a gag reflex.

My SO was preparing for her book club meeting. She always takes that as seriously as doing a doctoral thesis or presenting a business plan, devoting time, thought and energy to the exclusion of many other things. Extra effort was going on this time because she was the moderator. She owned responsibility for driving the discussion.

The book was A Friend by Sigrid Nunez. Each month, one member selects a book for the others’ reading and discussion. My wife suggested this book to another book club member. She’d read reviews, and after reading it for book club (twice, because she was the moderator), she raved about the book, author, and the author’s glittering literary career. Nunez is serious about writing (yeah, like most writers are not, right?) and has an impressive career.

My wife raving about Nunez’s success settled poorly on my wounded writer psyche. I’m not usually like that. I generally am just as enthusiastic as her about these things, or even more bullish on writers and their works and rewards. But circumstances threw dark shade on my own writing efforts, and her comments dropped me into a place where there’s little light.

That happened in the morning. Vowing to myself to do better and get through this, I went off to the coffee shop to slog through writing requirements. I knew there was a problem with the section I was editing, but didn’t know what it was. Then, pop, pop, pop, three epiphanies about the what-and-why arrived. Those epiphanies energized my writing and pulled my spirit from the gutter and set it on top of the world.

I’ve through those moods and endured that kind of writing low before. Nothing new. Nor is it something that other writers haven’t experienced. Happy I’m out of it.

Time to write — and edit — a little bit more, at least one more time. Cheers

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