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.

Tuesday’s Theme Music

20:16 – 06:13. Sunset, sunrise. I complete the math in my head. Daylight minutes are falling back. Sunrise is later. Sunset is earlier. An annual thing. Recurring. Yet, I let it dominate morning thoughts like the end is nigh. Probably a product of circumstance. Outside activity is limited. Another high dome is settling on us. Back up to 101-105. No humidity. The drought deepens. Its pervasive effects suck out life. Air quality is unhealthy as wildfire smoke curls up in the valley. Better the smoke than the fire, I remind myself with some weariness. Trying to be positive. COVID-19 cases are also setting new area records. ICUs are overrun. Hospital staff have contracted COVID-19. Then there are personal matters I don’t put in posts.

Good morning, and a happy Tuesday to you, too! Today is Tuesday, August 10, 2021. 2021 is hurrying by as a year but it’s gonna leave a mark.

For music, I’ve been sucked into a song by The Calling, “Wherever You Will Go” (2001). This was a cat issue. Tucker insisted upon being my bodyfloof, right there at my heels as I walked down the hall, jumping up on the desk when I sat to type, etc. I processed the usual requests – “Are you hungry? Do you want a treat?” Petted and brushed him. Gave him some nip. But he hung with me. Guess that’s what he wanted. Which prompted the song.

Stay positive. Yes, it’s hard, innit? Is for me. Life can be a wearying business. Especially if you’re like me, staring at the smoke, contemplating COVID-19, struggling to write, pondering the imponderables. But stay positive. Rant a bit. Let it go, if you can. Test negative. Wear the mask when it’s needed. Get the vaccination, please.

Here’s the music. Cheers

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The Blackberry Dream

Blackberries. Love to eat them. They add sweet juiciness to everything. But they’re invasive. Will take over. And highly flammable. These traits make them threats to urban areas.

We soldier against a blackberry plant. Never with pesticides. Cut it back. Dig it up. Last night, they returned, in my dreams.

I was outside our house. The dream house wasn’t like our real house. The dream house had walls with garden beds all around the house, up against the foundation. I liked the arrangement and was walking through, admiring it, when I discovered blackberry bushes growing in it. Wasn’t the ordinary blackberry growth, though, no. These blackberry branches were several inches thick. They were pushing out the cut end and had not leaves, stems, branches, or berries. They had large thorns, though.

I was appalled by what I saw and headed back inside to talk with my wife and make plans. To return inside the house required me to pass through a cafeteria-style cafe. Make sense? No, but this is dream land. A young woman with her infant was sitting down at a table with three friend. She was complaining about the blackberry bushes’ sudden appearance at her house. I stopped to commiserate and flirt. Yes, I flirted with blackberry bush invasions as my baseline, trying to launch off that to impress her with my charm, knowledge, and wit. Such a dream flirt, I am. It fell completely flat.

I hurried on to my wife. When I arrived in our home, she greeted me with her discovery of the blackberry bushes. Demands of how did this happen and what are we going to do followed. I explained that I’d just learned of it. She cut me off to tell me about the unusual growth. Yeah, I know, I basically responded.

Meanwhile, two young nephews were eating at the table. They had blackberry bushes and were joking about the growths and laughing. I tried explaining our concerns about them but they paid no attention.

Dream end.

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Floofinese

Floofinese (floofinition) – Type of communication and language that humans employ with other species, especially pets and animals which they find cute or sweet.

In use: “Seeing the fawn, which seemed like it may have been born in the last hour — so small and delicate — she went into full floofinese, with a goofy tone normally used with babies, telling the fawn how pretty it was as the little animal stared blankly back.”

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Monday’s Theme Music

We’ve done it! We’ve made it to another Monday. Give yourself a pat on the back. You deserve it. Most of us do. Doesn’t always seem like Monday wants us with it.

Today is August 9, 2021. Sol’s first pearly gold rays struck Ashland at 6:12 AM, immediately pushing the temperature up from the sixties degrees where it sat. With smoke sting nipping our nostrils, scratching our eyes and throats, and hazing the sky’s blue into an ancient gray, temperatures in the low nineties are forecast. Cynics believe it will be closer to the mid-nineties, pointing to a recent trend of under-forecasting the highs. The sun will grow into a red rubber ball and wink out behind the hills at 8:20 PM. At least we had a nocturnal break from the smoke. Windows were cracked. Fresh, cool air washed in. Ah, relief.

Multiple songs shared play time in my head yesterday, last night, this morning. Like, the Jefferson’s theme music. “Backfield in Motion”. “Wedding Bell Blues”. But also, “Surrender”. The Cheap Trick 1978 song is the loudest, strongest, most pervasive.

Whatever happened to all this season’s
Losers of the year?
Every time I got to thinking
Where’d they disappear?
But when I woke up, Mom and Dad
Are rolling on the couch
Rolling numbers, rock and rollin’
Got my KISS records out

[Chorus]
Mommy’s alright
Daddy’s alright
They just seem a little weird
Surrender
Surrender
But don’t give yourself away
Hey, hey

h/t to Genius.com

My Mum and Dad never got my Kiss records out and rolled around and such. Perish the thought! Here’s the music. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Cheers

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The Red Pick-up Truck Dream

The red truck looked new, or vintage mint. A Chevy Silverado, it was a mid-seventies model. Things like time are often less relevant in dreams, so the truck may have been new. Standard cab. Nothing fancy.

I’d inherited it and was going to pick it up. A caveat was attached: I shared the truck with four others as owners. Unusual deal for a truck but I was happy. I arrived and met two of my co-owners. Dream anonymous, they’re nobody I know from my life. Nor can I provide any description. They were just there. They showed me the truck and explained the problem: nobody had a key. That needed to be fixed. “Well,” I answered, “did you look in this drawer?” I walked over and opened a drawer on a small end table. Within was a key. I held it up. “Did you try this key?”

No, they’d never seen that key before. We went out and tried it. It worked!

We walked around, talking about the situation — sharing truck ownership — and admiring the truck. Seemed odd to me that someone would do something like that in their will, unless there was something different about the truck. Investigating, I discovered many parts of the truck was made of precious metal. As I explored and discovered, the others joined me. We discovered many pieces made of gold and silver. The truck was a rolling treasure.

Our final two owners arrived, as anonymous as the first two. We shared our news about the truck’s gold and silver. After we all rejoiced, I suggested that we take a drive. We piled in, three in the cab, two in the back, with me behind the wheel. The truck was shown from above, driving down a pristine highway, glittering with reflected sunshine.

Dream end.

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Floofitone

Floofitone (floofinition) – 1. Sound reminiscent of or similar to an animal in distress.

In use: “Hearing what could be a crying animal (maybe a cat), he went outside, but it turned out to be a floofitone caused by a gate open and closed by the wind.”

2. A phone ring sound used to denote an incoming call or message.

In use: “Her phone yipped — the floofitone she employed since acquiring her rescue puppy, aka Hercules — signaling a call from her daughter. Were it her ex-husband, the floofitone was a grunting pig (and for her other ex-husband, the sound was a gibbering monkey), but those were part of another day, another story, another life.”

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