Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Into the fourth revision I go. The novel flows more smoothly and the story so far feels complete and true. That’s a big reach when only fifteen percent has been done in this round but I hold onto any sign of progress and completion that’s found.
Meanwhile, I’ve started writing another novel, of course, because stories stir restlessly in the mind’s wings, eager to for their moment to be explored and told.
Thursday again, naturally. May 4, 2023. Man, I remember writing 2011 as the year not long ago. 2000. The years dart past like playing kittens.
A bird on a wire, clouds in the sky. Quiet today, but relaxed, not like Ashlandia is holding it breath and keeping its powder dry. More, subdued. Clouds inhibit the warmth and sunshine. It’s 53 F, and a high of 60 F is expected. Yesterday’s late afternoon grew find after our 2 PM to 2 PM rain shower — blink and you missed it — rising to 68 F and feeling warmer for the sunshine’s due process. Dawn was already developing at 5:09 AM when Papi went out for another inspection, though sunrise wasn’t until a few minutes after six AM was struck. The sun will inhabit Ashlandia’s skies until after 8 PM.
We had a joyous time at the beer guzzle yesterday afternoon. Only way to describe it. Strong turnout, high energy, fun conversation and joking. Eclectic subjects. Always is. Our youngest member, Doctor P, recently retired department head at the local Uni., turns 65 next week, so he’ll be treating us all to beer and pizza.
Political news inspired The Neurons today. After reading a bit this AM and digesting what I’d read yesterday, The Neurons said, “I’ll show you a ‘god’ who falls asleep on the job.” I thought, what’s that from? A bit later, more song emerged, then click, recognition was achieved. Now “Knights of Cydonia” by Muse from 2006 occupies the morning mental music stream. It always reminds me of Uriah Heep from another era, which isn’t a bad thing.
Here’s the music. Stay pos. Coffee is onboard with me, so here we go. Cheers
Completely stolen from a Facebook page, Vince the Flag Guy, but I couldn’t resist spreading this far and wide.
Floof Fog (floofinition) – Human mental condition when worries or activities involving an animal prevents them from thinking of, doing, or recalling other matters.
In use: “She had a list of things to do but succumbed to floof fog when she sat down to read a book and the cat jumped up and joined her. Floof fog set in and the two were soon snuggling and asleep.”
Going across a dark, almost dystopian urban landscape, I came across Dad. He was hustling around, his normal mode, with that odd, splayed-leg walk of his. Seeing me, he said, “Here, come help me.” He was pointing and directing. “We need to paint this place. Get that brush and paint over there.” He pointed to a red brick wall.
At that point, I realized that most of the place was already painted red. “You’re painting everything red.”
“Yes,” he answered, taking up a roller and resuming.
“Why?”
“It needs to be red.”
I saw that besides the buildings being red, so were the pavement, grass, trees, and roads. Even the sky and clouds were red. “How did you do that?”
“Hurry,” he answered, “we need to get everything painted red.”
Although I didn’t understand and disagreed, I began painting. As I did, I found red rubies surrounding me. I picked them up with huge astonishment, admiring the cut gems, and called out to Dad, “Look what I found.”
“I know,” he replied without pausing his work. “Take what you want. They’re yours.”
Dream end.
A woman was enjoying a latter with another woman another at a nearby table. I heard her say, “One time my son ended a text with TTYL, and all I could come up with for what it meant was ‘Ta Ta You Loser’.”
Yeah, cracked me up.
We’re such individuals. Not just from one another but from what we were when we were younger.
I used to be aghast that someone didn’t like chocolate. Or ‘don’t care for sweets’. Dad is one of those.
I could understand why people didn’t like coffee, beer, or alcohol generally, between flavors and effects. Now I see, as I age, how my taste buds and preferences have morphed through my decades. I still enjoy chocolate, beer, coffee, etc., but things taste sweeter or saltier to me.
Life. Takes so long to learn and understand, and then things change.
Using my keen powers of deduction, I observed that yesterday was Tuesday. Therefore, today must be Wednesday.
I reported my results to the chief. She downed whisky-infused black coffee that was probably brewed before the first Gemini rocket launch and gave me a gimlet eye. “Not bad, rookie.”
Today is Wednesday, 5/3/2023. The temperature God is blessing us with a 47 F temperature. The rain God is misting us off and off, while the sun God winks in and out behind the cloud God’s offerings. “We expect it to reach 65 today,” a weather dude tells me on the QT. A little after six bells was rung, the sun rolled over Ashlandia’s horizon albeit beyond a cloud wall. We’ll hear eight bells in the evening before the sun lives us in her wake.
The felines have been fed, and approve of their morning meal. It’s a wet meal enlivened with a few tablespoons of warm water. They love the combo. Tucker’s repast includes his meds. In fact, that’s how the warm morning meal was established, by medicating previous cats who needed meds but battled taking them.
Gordon Lightfoot passed this week. The Canadian musician/singer/songwriter’s end of life probably isn’t news to you, but the knowledge was swirling around in my thoughts, along with weather observations, so The Neurons spooned “Early Morning Rain” by GL into my morning mental music stream. A vote was taken with the cats and it was chosen as today’s theme music.
Coffee is almost done as I’m behind schedule this morning, a victim of helping a friend. Stay pos, and be the master of your domain. Here’s the music.
Cheers
