Thursday’s Theme Music
A sibilant swishing announced that Thursday had arrived. Moving with the dignity of a powerful superyacht, it pulled into August 4, 2022 and docked. Although people crowded about to see the day, most were ambivalent. It’s Thursday, yes, but really, that meant that it’s closer to Friday, Saturday, or Sunday for most. A few deeply rooted pessimists said, “That just means it’s closer to Monday.” Apparently, they’re not Monday fans.
Sunrise painted a pretty summer dawn at 6:07 AM, all green sky and blue trees and grasses, then realized it had it reversed and fixed it. Sunset is planned for 8:27 PM in our valley, unless something goes wrong. Even when it goes wrong, they immediately alter reality so that everything seems right. We’re left feeling like something is off, something is different, without ever being able to point to one thing and say, “That’s it,” and settle our confusion.
Temperatures are milder on this day, 59 when I got up at 7:30 ish, and now 70 F two hours later. A high of 34 C is expected this afternoon. We’ll see what they’re like. Most of the nineties I’ve met are friendly but some appear to be hotheads.
Our air quality has improved. We were cruising through yesterday afternoon at around 118 as shown by Purple Air. Then, at about 5:30, the readings all through the valley plummeted to the range of 2 – 20 and remained low since. Must be that a low has jumped into the area, shifting the wind patterns.
I had a dream last night. Wasn’t nearly as inspiring as MLK Jr’s dream, that I recall. Little is recalled except that I saved a little brown dog and gave it to some children. It’s germane for the day’s theme music because upon waking from that dream, The Neurons began playing “Save Your Tears” by The Weeknd (2020) and have it looping through the morning mental music stream. I didn’t ask for further details from The Neurons about why that song is playing. I know their game. They’ll tease, mock, and smirk, but they won’t explain. It was the theme music in April of 2021 but I’d need to drink my coffee to find another one today.
The coffee has landed. Stay positive, test negative, wear masks as necessary to take care of you and yours, etc. Here’s the music. Stay safe, wherever you are, and have a better one. Cheers
Wednesday’s Wandering Thought
His first brush with his daily coffee was through the nose – smelling the ground roasted beans as they went into the filter, and then sucking in deep breaths of the cup after it was poured, a scent that pleasured the senses.
A NASCAR Dream
I knew that I was attending a NASCAR race, though which wasn’t apparent, as I never saw the track, cars, driver, or race. I was with my wife and hundreds of others. We were cozy in a tunnel, under a blanket or tarp, with rain falling outside the tunnel. My wife and I were cuddling and kissing but she was concerned about my girlfriend’s location. She didn’t like my girlfriend and didn’t want her to find us.
My wife spotted my GF walking our way. Hurriedly she moved away from me and hid, urging me to hide, too, which I did. We decided that we needed to get out of there. We got into our long silver minivan. It featured a luxurious cream-colored interior. My wife and I sat in the back row of the long vehicle, kissing a bit.
She said, “We need to go.”
I answered, “Okay.”
We realized that other cars had pulled in on either side. We wouldn’t open the doors. I said, “That’s okay, I’ll drive from back here.”
Putting the car in gear, I reached over the seats and took the steering wheel and gently accelerated forward. We started moving toward another car. My control wasn’t that good. I went to brake and shouted, “I can’t find the brake. I don’t know where it’s at. I can’t see it and I can’t feel it.”
We somehow stopped. I said, “I need to climb over the seats so I can drive.”
Dream end.
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Heard a loud crash reverberate through the night last night. Shook the windows and threw me out of my chair. Investigation revealed that Wednesday, August 3, 2022, had arrived.
Sunrise was at 6:06 this morning, a sketching of faint pastels relieving night’s fading grays. Our temperature pumped up to 21 C from a start of 65 F, with a high of 97 F in sight for today. Skies are clear except for charcoal scratchings brought on by smoke. The McKinney Fire still burns, still less than one percent contained, unlined, but rain slowed its spread. Other fires have sprung up and are being dealt with. We were fortunate that with all the lightning strikes of the last 24 hours, we were spared, knock on wood. Sunset was a bold, lingering red splash yesterday and I think we’ll have the same today at 8:28 PM.
I was watching my ginger sweetness do a dash. He’s a cat who loves to dash about doing good. As I teased him, “Why are you running from place to place,” The Neurons said, “Oh, we know this song.” That’s how I came to have “Saving Grace” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers (2006) in the morning mental music stream. I enjoy the song’s purer rock sensibilities, which is something I think that Petty always brought to his music. His was a simple approach.
Stay positive, try to be cheerful, test negative, have a nip of coffee. Don’t mind if I do. Here’s the music with the late Petty recorded live. Cheers
Hoochie Floof
Hoochie Floof (floofinition) – An animal who is free from anxiety and worry, or who acts in such a manner.
In use: “Although born prematurely in the Cincinnati Zoo, Fiona the hippo seemed like a hoochie floof as she navigated her first actions in the public eye, drawing millions of clicks and inspiring books.”
The Red Mustang Dream
I was a young man, as I often am in my dreams, probably in my thirties. I was in the home of a woman I knew. It was a standard modern place but basic and clean. I was standing in a dining area by a patio slider. She wasn’t there, but two other young women and a young man were present. They were about ten years plus younger than me. We in the middle of a conversation in which I related to them that they were ‘taking the wrong medicine’ and told them what medicine they should be taking. The man walked out to get it even though I told him that I had it with me. One of the women left and the home owner returned. She asked what was going on so the other young woman and I explained it, with me doing most of the talking, telling her that they’d been using the wrong medicine. She appreciated me correcting them because one of them was her niece (I never knew which). The young man returned then, without medicine because he could ‘t find it as “everything is closed”. I gave him a huge black backpack which contained the medicine he and the others needed.
As the young man thanked me, the other woman returned and the homeowner announced that she was leaving. She told us we could stay or go, it was our choice. I said I was going because I needed to do other things. The young man left with me. We walked down a busy small-town street for a bit, and then separated. I went over and got into my Mustang. Red, it was a 1965 convertible in very good condition, highly polished, with a white interior and convertible top. I needed work on it, so I took it to this little place. I backed into a spot and then got out to get a number and get in line, because that’s how it worked there. As I was waiting, another person arrived and backed his car into the Mustang.
I was upset, more so because he shrugged it off and walked away. He was much smaller than me and a little younger. I confronted him, pointing out the damage. Body damage, on the driver’s side front, was very slight, but the tire was torn up. Looking at it, the tire was made of white foam mattress and had lost a large chunk from the accident. He talked to the man about it but he claimed it wasn’t his fault, went and got a number and got into line.
I was upset. He’d hit my car and wouldn’t take responsibility for it. A friend arrived and I told him about what had happened. The guy who’d hit my car was in line with several large companions, who had been there when I arrived. My friend said, “Know how to start a confrontation?” I shook my head and he said, “Let me show you.”
He walked up and attempted to grab the younger guy’s nut sack, but one of the big other guys instead did it to him, saying, “You trying to start a confrontation?”
That didn’t make sense to me. As my friend was released and limped off, departing the business, I decided that I would leave. As I went to depart, I encountered another young man with thick dark hair. He was looking into the shop and asked me if I would recommend it. I told him that it depended on what he needed and how badly he wanted it, but I was disappointed in the shop and told about the accident. I asked him what he was looking for. When he told me, I said, “I recognize you. I read about your story on the net.”
He verified that was him, and then the homeowner from the dream’s beginning arrived. As the young man looked across at her, he said, “Excuse me, that’s my mother.”
Dream end.
A note that the dream Mustang reminded me that Dad had a 1965 Mustang when he was stationed in Germany in the late 1960s, blue with a white convertible top and black interior, with a 289 and four speed. I wasn’t with him in Germany, but he showed me pictures of him with the car with its top down in Paris.
Michael Seidel, writer 