Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
He found a bank card in an ATM. The machine was beeping and asking, “Are you done with your transaction?” No one else was around so he took the card into the bank and turned it over to a teller, telling them where he’d found it. As he was leaving, he heard people saying, “Oh, what a nice man.”
That surprised him. What else would you do with anything found but try to get it back to the owner in the best way possible?
Our sprawling Christmas Cactus is resplendent with large red flowers on its window perch. Wind dances with trees outside the glass. Grass and bushes shiver under the wind’s tickle. 36 degrees F outside, sunshine washes over valley as the clouds have surrendered the sky to blue. It’s Friday, December 16, 2022, just five sleeps from winter solstice and two weeks and a day to 2022’s end.
Our weather has been pingponging between rain, high winds, and then days of freezing fog and stagnant air. Hope this day brings on a change. I don’t think I’m really a winter person. Today’s high will be 46 but the wind’s northern mountain ice edge will make you think it’s less. The clock saw 7:33 AM when the valley was gifted the sunlight’s first direct light. Daylight will go until 4:40 this afternoon.
I was given an earworm yesterday. Running errands, music playing, The Neurons heard a song which made me laugh. Then they kept playing it, and here it is, sixteen hours later, hogging the morning mental music stream. I’d never heard “Victoria’s Secret (2022) by Jax before yesterday, but after arriving home and settling in, I looked up the lyrics to confirm what I heard. This is a song pushing back against body types and body shaming, focusing on the stereotypical Victora’s Secret model, all boob on a skinny body. I applaud the song. Fake bodies aren’t needed. Nor is starving yourself or “going without carbs” as the song mentions. Our adherence to fake images and the efforts to achieve those is a sickness that undermines our national mental health, as is the whole heavy slant toward the need to be young and pretty, as portrayed too many times in movies, television shows, and advertisements. Hope you’ll give the song a listen. Hope you don’t get stuck on the same line that hooked The Neurons, “Victoria is made up by a dude (dude)!”
Other than weather, writing, exercising, and socializing with people and cats, life is moving at a slower pace. I need to carve out more reading time. That’s my significant complaint, other than the nastiness of life for so many and the general mess called politics. Stay positive, test negative, and so on. Time for my morning coffee rations. Have a super one. Here’s Jax. Cheers
My Mother- and Father-in-law, both deceased, showed up in my dream last night, along with Dad, who is alive. I was young and with my in-laws at their house, along with Dad, who was visiting. I was outside when I turned and looked at their house. This dream house was nothing like any of the homes they lived in dring the time I knew them. They had changed this house, though, installing a flat front facade in a deep slate blue color that really appealed to me. I complimented them on the color change, enthusing about it. They then added a flat white latticed gate, which popped again the blue. Whole thing came across as stylish, modern, and sharp, which, honestly, counters their RL simple country style. Dad was helping with the gate. As they finished, I walked over and checked it out. I discovered two machine head screws at the bottom sticking out of the gate.
I complained about the screws sticking out, chiding them about not finishing in a joking way that we’d shared with one another throughout my adult hood. Dad and FIL replied that the screws were fine. But I went over to finish screwing them in. When I applied pressure, the screws slid in without any resistance. I said, “There’s nothing behind these screws. They won’t help at all.” They ignored that and walked off.
Dream shift, we’re inside, playing some silly game tossing a ball around that none of the others would ever do in RL. None were ever silly that way around me. I was back in the right corner, which had a hallway leading to another area. The walls were pale green. I began examining them more closely and discovered mold growing on the walls. I pointed this out to them and said that something needs to be done. When none of the rest responded, I began cleaning them.
Another dream shift found me outside again, in my pajamas. Bright sunshine lit the broad fields and short bushes. I knew it was mid-afternoon. Someone kicked a football around. I decided to go out and play. My FIL said as an aside that someone serious about it would not be barefoot and in their pajamas. Ignoring him, I went out after the ball. It bounced behind me. Catching it on a bounce, I raced across the field. A small girl in pink pajamas attempted to tackle me. She had no chance but I didn’t want to hurt her so I stopped and let get me.
Dream end.
Thursday is found and stuck into place. Just like that, the puzzle known as 2022 gets closer to completion. Fitting these final pieces into place is a challenge that I best face when I’m coffee-fied. They’re so very similar. Like yesterday, today, December 15, 2022, is cold (29 F this morning), foggy, with wee, thin sunshine doing little to dint the gray quilt of fog and clouds and chilly winter air. Even the floofs are muttering, brr, with Papi leveling a dagger gaze at the world in expression of his disdain for the weather.
Though sunrise kicked in at 7:32, light at 6:27 AM was astonishing. I easily navigated through the house to let Papi out. Sunset will arrive at 4:40 this afternoon to close out this puzzle piece. Our temperature’s high point will be 5 C.
My wife popped home last night from her holiday book club and said, “I have the weirdest earworm.” She then sang the Texaco jingle. “You can trust your car to the man who wears the star, the big, white, Texaco star.” I had to laugh at that one as I tried remembering when I’d last heard it.
I have a different song in my morning mental music stream. Out walking in the cold day yesterday, I spied multiple home challenged folks trying to keep warm. It’s a constant thing here. We as a community pursue multiple prongs to help, chasing something sustainable and permanent as a solution. It’s been no bueno. Watching them and thinking about them, wondering how they’ve come to be in this situation, The Neurons fed “What’s It Like” by Everlast from 1998 into the music stream. I share it with you for theme music on this December day.
Stay positive, test negative, etc. I’m up for coffee once again. Here’s the music. Hope you enjoy it and experience a day that helps you finish the puzzle that’s you.
Cheers
It’d been an eyeblink. He’d been writing like crazy. He swears that he felt like he just sat down and opened the docs, delving into the novel, picking up the pieces of where he is and where he was going.
Coffee remains in his cup, but it is cold. This is an icy day, and the cold coffee doesn’t entice him. His rear end resents the chair’s hard seat. He has no idea how much he wrote and revised. Three more chapters were added and edited, other sections put under the editing grinder and polished, ensuring these new pieces fit smoothly as possible for this draft.
Time to stand up, stretch, and breathe. Back to life.
Back to reality.
He smiled as The Neurons remembered that song and stuck in his music stream. Fortunately, coffee shop music flowed in and overpowered the Soul II Soul song.
He wondered, though, will it show up in tomorrow’s morning mental music stream?
News came that a man has successfully removed over one hundred books from school libraries. This is in Florida. He’d moved there earlier in the year and then began challenging books. See, he didn’t want them in the school’s library. Either they offended his reading tastes or they included sex, and he didn’t approve, and didn’t want his child to be able to pick one up. This one man is dictating, through Florida’s ridiculous laws regarding books and their zany laws about sexual preferences or genders other than straight up between one man and one woman — and they should be married and in a stable relationship, I infer from his comments and news reports — then they shouldn’t be in his school library. Because, you know, his child might pick it up and read it, and then, flash, OMG, what will they become?
Oh, yeah, he hasn’t totally read those books which he demands to have removed. He knows enough, see? No need to read the entire book. Could there be any redeeming reasons beyond sex to read a book? Why, of course not. That offending sex ruins the ret of the book.
I guess that’s what he’s thinking, as it’s solely on that one aspect that this fine Christian is having books challenged and removed.
One of the books that he hasn’t read which he wants to have removed is a YA graphic novel, The Girl from the Sea, by Molly Knox Ostertag. Curious about it, I went searching for more and found an excellent Advocate story about Ostertag and her graphic novel. Besides comments from Ostertag, Advocate includes several pages of The Girl from the Sea. It is funny and sweet, and I want to read more. Fortunately, it’s available at my county’s library. I’ve joined the waiting list of people wishing to read it.
Here’s a link to the Advocate so you can check it out.
Molly Knox Ostertag Talks Queer YA Visibility in The Girl from the Sea
By the way, there’s no sex in this YA work. Nor is there nudity or swearing. Just one kiss between two girls. That’s what offends this man.
In case you’re wondering.
His reflection from the mirror startled him. He looked just like an Oompa-Loompa from Charley and the Chocolate Factory.
Just one of those days, he told himself with a suppressed sigh.
A winter Wednesday morning to you. No snow here in the lower levels, but the temperatures and air quality has us singing that winter is upon us. No surprise, it being December 14, 2022, a nose hair short of mid-month. -2 C and foggy out there. The fog will grumble and fuss around the trees and houses for most of the morning but burn off and permit sunshine’s entrance. Daylight crept through the valley’s fog at 7:32 this morning. By the time the sun lowers its from our presence, the air temp is supposed to jump up to 46 degrees F. It may do so but yesterday’s 42 degrees felt like 34, as they say.
After perusing some morning news headlines, I pulled an early cup of coffee, and wrote the dream journal up. Les Neurons then then pulled me down a ‘where are they now’ path about a one-time neighbor and co-worker. We were serving the Air Force together at Onizuka AFB in the mid-nineties last century. Before Onizuka was renamed to honor an astronaut killed in t he Challenger disaster, it was Sunnyvale Air Station. It went from Air Station to Air Force Base to Air Base after being renamed Onizuka.
That has nothing to do with my friend. Last which I heard of him, he’d gone to Turkey on an unaccompanied assignment, returned to Florida, divorced, and retired. He and I ‘connected’ on Facebook but little was ever there of him except for annual birthday greetings from people I don’t know. He’d quit responding to those a decade ago. Alive or dead, The Neurons wonder.
Today’s song, brought to you by The Neurons and their ‘where are they now’ tour, is “Cut Like A Knife” by Bryan Adams from 1983. This is because the tour subject loved this song. Midway through a party, he’d request it. If he’d imbibed enough and it was late enough, he’d sing and play air guitar to the song. Thinking of him, I think of that song, and cigarettes and beer.
Hope you enjoy it. Stay pos and test neg. I gather from reading digital news papiers that a growing body of folks eschews such quaint measures as masking, testing, etc. “It’s nothing,” you read more often online even as rates of flu and COVID climb. Certainly, local store experiences find my wife and I in a tiny minority when we’re masked while shopping. Oh well, live and learn.
Here’s the tunes. I need to wrap up morning activities, and head to the coffee house for writing activities. Hope your day is safe but enjoyable. Let’s go on a limb and say, productive, too, right?
Cheers
