Wednesday’s Theme Music
We’re on the coast. Fog defined our Wednesday sunrise at *drumroll* at 6:21 AM. The fog burned off about nine-ish, leaving us awash in sunshine.
This August 17, 2022, finds us at 62 F with a high of 71 F in the cards. We’re three short blocks from the beach, with view of the surf from our upper-level windows. Not a bad deal. No writing to be done…for the moment. I am to socialize and be a tourist. I don’t wear those hats well, but I’ll try. Sunset will be at 8:19 PM.
Seagulls sing wherever we go. You’d think The Neurons would pick up on that and sing some music by A Flock of Seagulls, which I think is actually called a flotilla. I think there are other expressions. Guess I should google it…someday… I’ll put it on my TBG list.
Instead, The Neurons have noticed my anti-social tendences, my desire to hasten away somewhere to write. They’ve installed a Helen Reddy song, “Leave Me Along” (1973). You know, it’s a song about a woman telling others, “Leave me alone, won’t you leave me?”
Yeah, not nice of me, is it? It’s against our social conventions for how we define ‘normal’.
Here’s the music. I’ve had my coffee, thanks, a lovely Americano at Ultralife Cafe. Off to sight-see. Stay positive, test negative, and try to socialize. Would it really hurt you? Oh, the things we don’t know.
Cheers
The Writing Moment
No silence. None for thinking — certainly none for writing. He’s with two people who verbalize their thoughts. Their thinking moves with the linear certainly of hail showering off pavement. Play by play is given: “Where did I leave that? Have you seen my *purse *hat *shoes *keys *contact lens *computer cord *books. I thought I left it — is that it over there? Oh, that is it. How did it get over there?” Laughter ensues as they explain to you the process that they just went through.
Variations exist. “Oh my God, I’ve lost my tricorder.” It’s not a tricorder, but a key, a pair of glasses, a credit card. Panic rising, they verbalize their fears that they’ve lost their item, searching and searching, providing updates on the search and expounding on their exasperation, worries, and anxieties.
But then, success! They have found it.
No place to hide from this. No place to write. Yes, writing it out is an exercise in self-pity and frustration. It’s been an exhausting day of vacation.
Tuesday’s Theme Music
It’s a gorgeous day in Gotham City.
Wait, I’m not in Gotham City.
No, I’m in Ashland. It’s August 16, 2022, right? A Tuesday.
It’s a gorgeous day here, if blue skies and sunshine spell gorgeous to you. Sunbeams broke up night’s hold at 6:19 this morning. 8:10 PM will find the night returning as the world’s spin does its thang. It’s a comforting 64 F now but highs will take us to 93 F.
The Neurons implanted Joni Mitchell in the morning mental music stream. She’s singing her 1974 song, “Help Me”. This is cause of freedom. I said to my wife, “Well, we have the freedom to do what we want.” I was talking about a road trip we’re undertaking. The Neurons gloamed onto ‘freedom’ and started singing variations of the chorus, “But not like we love our freedom.”
Yeah, we’re on a road trip. Let me coffee up and get out there. You be safe, test negative and think positive. See you on the coast.
Cheers
The Writing Moment
He felt like a historian or investigative reporter, ascertaining what had happened so he could write it up. Now on his novel’s second draft, he was still just learning the story, but it was even more fun than the first time around.
Monday’s Wandering Thought
He encountered a friend and told him, “I like your shirt. That’s very nice.”
“Thank you,” the friend replied.
“Would you sell it to me?”
“What?”
Brainstorm! He’d start a reality game show — “The Shirt Off Your Back” — where minor celebrities would go around offering people money, gifts, or favors for the clothes they were wearing. It’d be sort of a poor person’s Indecent Proposal.
It was dumb enough that it might just work.
Monday’s Wean Music
Yeah, it’s Monday. Causes many to face a need to wean themselves off the weekend. Yeah, there are a few lovelies who enjoy their job so much that they don’t need to be weaned off the sleep and relaxation the weekend provided. Also, retired people care less about Mondays and need less weaning. Shiftworkers, too. Their Monday varies. It’s not usually the same Monday the rest of us experience so far as the calendar takes us, but they have the same dilemma, getting weaned off of their time off and relaxation as they clean up, dress up, and press on into work.
It’s mid August, 2022, the fifteenth if you’re scoring at home. Time’s sprint through the year continues for me. The shadows and angles of sunrise and sunset are shifting. The southern windows are given more light and earlier exposure, a fascinating aspect to meditate upon as the orbital dance between the Earth and Sol continues.
6:18 AM slipped up on the clock as sunshine breached the horizon and gave light to the sky. I expect the sun to get left behind as the Earth turns at 8:20 PM. We’re currently measuring air temp at 19 C. A high of 91 F might be reached. I’ll take this cool, comfortable morning under a cloud-free blue sky. Good coffee weather.
Last night’s outdoors scene was sigh-inducing. A waning full moon skipped over the southern hills and mountains, flashing its silver-white shine through the trees, blessing the backyard with a fantasy glow. I expected fairies to edge out and start zipping about. A blanket of stars and relaxing chill breeze completed the experience.
Wean music isn’t much for actually weaning you off unless it lifts your mood and distracts you. I think this song does it. The Neurons slipped it into the morning mental music stream when I wasn’t looking. They fed off an idea about chasing the sunrise. “Lay Me Down” by The Dirty Heads came out in 2010. I often think that it’s Jack Johnson playing and singing. Has that same mellow surfer vibe that Johnson incorporates in his music.
Stay positive and test negative. Have some coffee, if you’d like. Plenty here, at the moment. The ginger prince is singing to me. Don’t know what that song is about. He’s already eaten and we’ve played. He was groomed and petted, and scratched, and adored. Probably just wants more of the same. Here’s the music.
Cheers
The Prisoner Dream
Sooo…I’m on a ship. Never see it, just know that I’m onboard something. It’s huge, apparently.
I’ve been captured and I’m being transported. Zip ties bind my hands, along with my two companions. Either via dream mechanics or I’ve forgotten what transpired, I’m then free of my ties, then lose the two people with me. I know my captors are tracking me. I sneak through this big vessel, going through sections housing people sitting in roads, following a washed-out dirt road, slipping through a jungle…
As I go, I observe the passengers. They’re also prisoners. None are bound in any way. It looks like they’re just taking a flight, traveling somewhere. I know better. Seeing a huge piece of cardboard, I realize that there’s a lot of waste and that we prisoners can utilize this waste to improve our situation. Food is hidden in different locations which we can eat, and there are materials we can use as clothing or to build shelters.
I try explaining to other prisoners what I’m thinking. Most don’t understand. Worse, they speak very loudly. One young woman finally understands me and tells the others. Going, “Oh, I see,” they lift a corner of the cardboard and see a pile of uneaten food. They all start passing food out and eating.
I hurry on because I know my captors are still after me. I come to a chute. In it, I find packaged food and help myself. Taking three of them with me, I move on.
I come to a sandy stretch. Not sure if it’s a desert or part of beach or something else. Briefly, I think, should I go through this? Am I going the right way?
I decide to go on because going back doesn’t seem feasible. As I trudge through the hot white sand, I became aware of small things fluttering around me. They’re on the sand and become airborne as I walk by them. They have wings, I see, and think that they look like very small, winged people about the size of ladybugs. All are white, in white clothing. As they fill the air around me, I see that all are females. They start landing on me, leaving small sand deposits. I start swatting them, trying to keep them away, and dust the sand off, and then I ‘know’ that they’re actually treating illnesses in me. I go still, because that will help them. The sand is gone. I’m instead in green water. The little fairy women are still treating me.
Dream end.
