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.

Viva November 31st

Got up and ended up in the kitchen. 3:20. I know this because I was in the kitchen. Papi was the cat-alyst behind my mid-night sojourn. He’d been out into the rain and now wanted in out of the rain. I went in for a glass of water. While there, I was surrounded by machines with blue digits announcing the time. Coffee maker in the left, microwave and stove front and center, smoothie blender on the right, then the smart refrigerator and its ice and water dispenser, and a smart toaster. A smart phone and a Fitbit being charged bolstered the digital ranks. Stuck me as odd, all those devices glowing with time in the night’s bosom, when there’s no one to see except a stray like me.

As I dispensed water, the microwave yelled, “Viva November 31st.” The other machines repeated it.

I cringed from the sound. “There isn’t a November 31st. Never has been. Nor is this November. It’s March, you idiots.”

“But this is the day of our revolution,” the toaster declared. “Viva — “

“I repeat, November 31st doesn’t exist, and this is March 20th.”

“You sure?” the stove asked.

“He’s right,” the Fitbit said, with the smart phone saying, “The Fitbit is right.”

The machines began arguing. I slammed the glass down. “Can it, you guys. Go back to sleep.” I left.

As I walked past the office, a machine in there shouted, “Viva November 31st.”

I shook my head and stumbled to bed. With smart machines like these, there won’t be a revolution.

***

I read about Evil Squirrels prompt yesterday via Suzanne’s dang blog for the Tenth Annual Contest of Whatever. The prompt is November 31. No story came to me until I got up in the middle of the night. Then, oops, there it is. Fun.

Interesting side, it was 3:20 AM. Only later did I realize that was also the date. Coincidence? Or spooky entanglement? Let me have some coffee an think about it.

16

Sunday’s Wandering Thought

After realizing Paul Simon only gave five ways to leave your lover in his song, “Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover”, he felt obliged to find five more.

Just jump on your bike, Mike.

Follow your itch, Mitch.

Get a new job, Bob.

Buy an online tic, Rick.

And drive away, Ray.

His work was done.

0

Sunday’s Theme Music

His royal floofness was not happy. “Meow,” he thundered quite harshly.

“What is it, my ginger liege?” I asked. Then I petted him and discovered the source of his displeasure. His floofship had been outside and guess what? Yesterday’s vigorous sunshine was replaced by a light but steady rain. No, my flooftator was not pleased with the circumstances, no, not at all. A towel was employed to dry the royal fur. Treats and catnip were administered as salve for his wounded soul.

At least it’s but 44 degrees F. No snow expected, just plentiful rain, about .19 inches, Alexa tells me, if she’s to be believed. High of 46, a drop of twenty from yesterday’s experience. Ah, weather. We can always count on you to change in Ashlandia. Probably having rain now because the sun popped up at 7:16 AM and saw its shadow. So claims Ashlandia lore. Frightened, the sun will hide from itself until it sneaks out of the valley. Weather gnomes say that’ll be 7:22 this evening.

Lovely day for reading, writing, maybe nibbling some food, perhaps napping, perhaps a walk. A day of shying away.

Well, with that, I have “Shy Away” by Twenty One Pilots, a bopping tune from 2021, stuck in the morning mental music stream, replacing the previous occupant, “It’s Raining Again” by Supertramp from 1982. We’re no longer in extreme drought in our county. The net verifies we’ve dropped to moderate drought, which is how 77% of Oregon is classified.

Onward, to things. Stay pos and be cool. I’m up for coffee. Need anything from the kitchen? Okay, here’s the music. Cheers

0

Floofguistics

Floofguistics (floofinition) – The study of animal languages, including the nature, use, structure, and modification of language.

In use: “Like many housepets, Hilda longed for a good course of floofguistics for her human friends so that they would quit trying to feed her when she asked them what the weather forecast was, and the like.”

2

Saturday’s Wandering Thought

He and his wife have stacks, piles, and cases of books. Some were bought at garage and yard sales because they look interesting, on deck, waiting to be read. Classics gather dust on shelves. Library books fill the TBR piles on nightstands and desks, along with books recommended by others, gifts, books written by friends, new releases by favorites, debuts which intrigue, and books waiting to be given to others, added to little libraries, or donated to charities. Finally are the books read and enjoyed, kept on hand for surviving the apocalypse.

1

Saturday’s Theme Music

Earth’s shift and clear skies has sunshine booming into the main bedroom. The room is on the northeastern corner, which is to say, the rear. Stunning to wake up to such golden light again. But the shift means that other house bits are darker again. Always adjusting…

It’s Saturday, 3.18.2023. We’re mourning for our friends, who’s beloved Purdue Boilermakers, #1 seed, fell in March Madness’s first round and is eliminated.

It’s 36 degrees F outside but the weather wicca tell us that Ashlandia highs will crest 65 F today. Was mighty fine yesterday, let me tell you. Spring fully ascended in all senses. Today’s sunrise was witnessed at 7:18 AM and the last of the sun in Ashlandia will be seen at 7:21 PM.

The weather pleases the housefloofs. Both are outside harvesting rays and grooming. Tucker’s thick white ruff, like a wondrous garment, shines in the light against his black markings, but Papi’s ginger and cream, marked with orange swirls, are pretty, too.

I have “Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright”, by Bob Dylan, in the morning mental music stream. A dream thing, an editing and writing thing, an admonishment to self, don’t think twice, stop overthinking matters, yo. One of my worst habits. Have a whole catalogue of them. I started with the Peter, Paul, and Mary version. Then, thinking about it, I recalled Willie Nelson singing it, so I went hunting for it. Then I found a live version with Bob D. and Eric C. I decided I’d go with it, so here you are.

Stay positive. The day is full of great possibilities. Got my coffee. Time to go do some things. Stay with it. Here’s the tune. Cheers

0

Extrofloof

Extrofloof (floofinition) – 1. A normally shy or withdrawn person who becomes more outgoing and friendly when they meet animals.

In use: “Becca usually hung to the wall on the rare occasions when she accepted invitations to another’s house, but whenever she met family pets, she bloomed into an extrovert, playing and talking with the animals like they were old friends.”

2. An energetic, outgoing animal.

In use: “Goober was fearless and friendly, an extrofloof to the core, excited to meet animals and people, always pleased to have a new acquaintance.”

4

Friday’s Wandering Thought

Another coffee shop patron entered. Heavy cologne scents rippled out from him. After thirty minutes, he went out and smoke a cigarette. Now cologne corrupted by stale cigarette smoke spread from him like an environmental disaster’s odor.

2

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