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.

Saturday’s Theme Music

Sunrise in Pittsburgh on Saturday, September 17, 2022, brought diffused yellow light to the steel city. 7:02 AM, it would take time to heat the chilly air. Summer was heading south for the winter. Fall was making its move.

Now at ten AM, heat has stirred the thermometer to 16 C. 81 F is where the air temp is expected to go before the sun’s impact shuts down at 7:28 PM.

Staying in Mom’s home, where she’s resided for over thirty years, I’m struck by both change and stasis, again. Some things about the house are so familiar and have been as they always were. That’s not in the architecture or layout but in the details of décor and organization. Mom’s authority and control is seen in every niche and nook. She decides all. This allows me to visit as if I’ve always been here. Just remember her habits and how she organizes, and everything can be found. Probably true for most people, especially when they’ve inhabited a space for so long, but I feel it more deeply with this place of Mom’s. Of course, it’s absolutely clean – cleaning is her therapy as writing is mine – she has told me that she loves to clean, because I thought it something imposed on her, but no, she says, no – and also inside that organized structure is bizarre chaos. Wild how the two co-exist.

Thought of change prods The Neurons to resurrect a favorite song in the morning mental music stream. “A Change Is Gonna Come” by Sam Cooke came out in 1964, when I was eight. It’s been part of existence’s fabric for almost my entire life, and it has always spoken to me. I’m not alone in this; Sam plugged into something special when he created this song. For today, though, I’m going with a Beth Hart version. She infuses it with that same strength of belief and sincerity that I hear in Sam’s voice. Hope you hear it, too. In some ways, she reminds me of Janis Joplin with this song.

Stay positive and test negative. Here’s the music. I’m off for a second cup of coffee. I’ll go out on the porch into the sunshine-warmed breeze to enjoy it. Enjoy the world in the best way you can. Cheers

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The Rope Dream

It was hot, dry, and clear. I was on a broad and empty plain. Two riders on horseback galloped toward me. I watched, trying to understand, who are they? Nothing auspicious about them, they resembled cowboys out of a revisionist western. They were approaching at slightly different vectors, dust pluming out behind them. I realized with some slowness, hey, they have ropes. Hey, they’re going to rope me.

Out in the open, nowhere to go, I thought that I’d run toward them, separating the space. Yeah, that didn’t work. They lassoed me. I awoke with a start, heavily sweating, struggling against the ropes. Took several seconds to understand that I’d been dreaming — or maybe experiencing another reality.

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Friday’s Wandering Thought

His nephew is a charismatic, good-looking guy. College grad, well-built, wonderful smile, intelligent. It was surprising to learn that he met his new girlfriend through Bumble, because she was also a wonderful person and successful. Both said, Yep, so hard to meet people, I decided to try online dating.

Online dating used to be a joke. Looks like it’s becoming a new norm.

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Floofjee

Floofjee (floofinition) – Floofhop slang for a humble animal who is part of a luxurious lifestyle, derived originally from the French word, bourgeoisie.

In use: “Floofs can’t always effectively predict how a relationship with a human will work out and become an unwitting floofjee, such as the cats who lived with Freddie Mercury, or Chelsea Clinton and her floofjee, Socks.”

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Friday’s Theme Music

I was surprised to discover today is Friday. It’s also September 16, 2022. The month is storming through. It’ll soon be another memory, haphazardly stacked alongside my other memories. “Do you remember…?” The question begins the conversation. I hear it reverberating from the future. “Do you remember?” A little mental scratching follows. Pieces are put together and then answer comes, “Yes, I remember.” Then each contributes details. Whether it’s all accurate or real, well, that’s for another philosopher to address.

Sunrise’s stealthy crawl began at 7:01 AM. Temperatures continue along a short spectrum of low sixties to mid-seventies. Pittsburgh’s sunset will be at 7:31. The daily slice of sunshine gets shaved a little more every day.

I spent thirty minutes outside today, on the porch in sunshine, drinking coffee. Wonderful to have a full and warm sun as a companion. My body drank in that vitamin D. While out there, I reflected that my mental image of myself remains as a man thirty years younger, or more. I wondered, do our self-images get created and captured when we first visit a place? Is that how we’ll always see ourselves in conjunction with a specific place?

I remember once when I was sixteen, with Dad, shoe shopping. Dad was flirting with a young female sales assistant. It seemed clear to me the woman was embarrassed. I found it all cringeworthy. But Dad didn’t see and hear himself as we saw him that day. Reality is such a tasty and beautiful variable, isn’t it?

For music, “A Horse With No Name” by Americ in the morning mental music stream. I started singing it to myself, shifting lyrics to, “It felt good to be out in the sun.” I took it past there but you don’t need those deets. Make up your own.

Stay positive and test negative, and do what you can with the day. As the floofs say, carpe diem. Lunch is calling, I think. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Floofinent Domain

Floofinent Domain (floofintion) – Power of an animal to take over a space, area, or process.

In use: “Keyboards, laptops, and office chairs were usually identified as floofinent domain, but Billy the Cat, who didn’t like vacuuming, took up station on the machine via floofinent domain, swatting at anyone trying to move it.”

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Thursday’s Wandering Thought

He has a rhythm established to deal with his illness. About every seven minutes, he gets up and pees. Then he washes his hands, followed by his face, dousing his eyes with water. Returning to his bedsit, he drinks half a glass of water and refills it, and then blows his nose.

There’s method underlying the madness. It’s all a matter of feeling better and getting better.

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