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.

Friday’s Wandering Thought

She said, “Where are my car keys?”

It’s a funny question these days. One car just has an electronic fob, a key contained within it for emergencies. Just one key, though. Her car, older, also has one key, with a fob. The house keys are separate — two, one for the house, and one for the mailbox — on a separate ring. They use garage door openers so she considers the house keys as superfluous and doesn’t take them.

He asked, “Why do you use the plural?” He knew why. He was just causing trouble.

She knew. “I don’t have time for you now. I’m already late. Help me find my keys.”

He went to her purse, opened it, and pulled out her key. “This it?”

“Where’d you find it?”

“Your purse.”

“I already checked it. Well, thanks, got to go.” She took the key and pecked his cheek. “Love you, bye.”

She was out and gone. He sniffed once. “Well, it is just one key, not keys.”

The cat looked at him and yawned.

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The Writing Moment

He was doing nothing. By that, he meant that he was playing a computer game. The television was on. Picard. A cat slept on the desk to his right.

His wife was in the recliner to his left, on her computer, playing a game, too, but also voicing disapproval about the television show’s plot.

Suddenly, they were there, more substantial than ghosts, surrounding him. Two seated their asses on the desk on either side of his laptop.

He looked at them. They crossed their arms and smiled. “What’s this about you’re not going to write for a few days?” one said, classic New York accent.

His muses. He wasn’t surprised. “I thought I’d take a few days off.”

The muses laughed. “Why? Stories are waiting. You’re eager to write them.”

“I’m a little tired.”

All laughed again. “Aw, he’s tired,” one behind him said in mocking sympathy.

“So?” the muse on the right asked.

“That’s okay,” another muse said behind him. “Let him go. If he doesn’t want to write, that’s his choice.”

He nodded. “That’s right. Just for few days. My eyes are tired. I feel like I need a break, you know?”

Muses leaned in. They began whispering scenes. He paused his game and watched television.

Or tried. Eager and resigned, he opened a new file.

He’d just write a little. See where it went.

The muses nodded. “That’s the spirit.”

Was it too late for coffee?

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Floofployment

Floofployment (floofinition) – Activity one engages in to support, help, or care for animals.

In use: “Unpaid floofployment is common in the U.S. as animals take over people’s homes, and then dominate their lives, but people often feel so enriched by the experience that they’ll sacrifice themselves and their comfort to ensure the floofs are safe, healthy, and happy.

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Friday’s Theme Music

Good mornin’. It’s Friday again, March 24, 2023, for the first time, we think.

Shakers of snow have spilled in several places. Tiny flakes laze from a pewter sky. Sun arrived a while again but the clouds have the numbers. 34 F now, the weather lizards explained with great showmanship it will reach 44 F.

Snow earned the cats’ disapproval. Tucker ate and found a warm space. Papi checked the front, back, front, back, front, back, front, back, and finally accepted that no comforting levels of sunshine could be found. Whiskers drooping in disapproval, he’s lounging on the sofa.

Meanwhile, I’ve retreated to the office with a cuppa coffee. With little solar energy feeding me, I needed a brew stat. Musically, The Neurons have imposed some Green Day in the morning mental music stream. I’m listening to “Holiday” (2005). Written in the aftermath of 9/11 and the retaliatory war started by Dubya’s administration, the songwriter was pissed and let fly his feelings. I shared them, because we were warned about WMD even though just months before, Colin Powell was reassuring us they weren’t there. Cheney had a different feel for it and added by Curveball, pushed for the war. They said it was gonna be a cake walk. Said it would pay for itself. Sure. Yeah, it was all dressed up very pretty in patriotism and UN resolutions, but it never made sense. Still does not.

Here’s the music. I wish you all a happy Friday. Stay pos. Cheers

1

Thursday’s Wandering Thought

Petting his cat, he said, “That’s my sweet baby.”

Never mind that the cat is about seven years old, so he’s no longer a baby, but middle-aged. It’s not about the math, anyway. We all know that when it comes to our floofs.

5

Thursday’s Theme Music

Today is 3.23.23. It’s a Thursday, hazy with spring clouds, wet with spring moisture, cool with spring temps. 42 F now, looking for 51 F later. I wouldn’t be surprised to see it higher. The systems have been underestimating our high temperatures in March. Sunrise sprang in on us at 7 AM. I wasn’t quite ready to be all light up but that’s nature. Meridian is 1:10 PM while sunset is at 7:20 PM.

For some reason, or maybe many reasons, the housefloofs demanded additional attention this AM. Of course they’re given focus before they’re fed. House rules, which the floofs wrote and signed. I wasn’t even consulted. They were just, these are the rules, and presented ’em, a floof accompli. Wasn’t with this floof set. The house rules were put in place decades ago by our first house floofs. Others have carried them on. So, besides the pre-eating attention (I think it was the second or third breakfast), each came back and said, “I need a little more attention before I go wash and nap.”

Today’s theme music was released in 1976. The band is Aerosmith, the album is Rocks. The song is “Nobody’s Fault”. It’s a hard rocker best heard at high vol, one of those songs that has you head beating and singing the lyrics. It’s an angry sounding song. Some of my favorite lyrics:

Lord I must be dreaming
What else could this be
Everybody’s screaming
Running for the sea
Holy lands are sinking
Birds take to the sky
The prophets are all stinking drunk
I know the reason why

h/t Genius.com

Houston, we have coffee at hand. Stay pos and best the day and its tricks and pranks. Here’s the beats. Cheers

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The Writing Moment

He’d completed the second draft of the novel-in-progress. The Light of Memories.

Being done felt good but odd. Another round of editing and revising was needed, he felt. The Light of Memories has a complicated concept and story because he likes complicated. Huge cast of characters. Several betrayals and double crosses. He felt he’d gotten it all right, but another round wouldn’t hurt.

With a little surprise, he saw in his notes that he’d begun writing the novel on March 20, 2022. One year and two days later, here he was, done with the second draft. It feels very satisfying. He’ll see after the next round.

Now he’d go on a break from it. Let it recede from mind so he sees it with fresh eyes. It’d be hard. He’d been with those characters and their stories almost every day for a year. He was going to miss his time with them. Maybe he would start another novel. He had a dozen other concepts in mind. Had even written opening chapters for half of them. More was teeming in his head.

It felt too soon. Maybe tomorrow.

Maybe not. He’d have some coffee and see.

Tomorrow.

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