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.

Proceeding

I thought I was further along in the novel-in-progress — well, in the story — than I am. I was at a juncture, though, where I was undecided what to do. Normally, I overanalyze a while, take a walk, make some coffee, and then write. I did kind-of the same this time, writing it in my head until I reached a point where I said, “Nope, that’s not how it goes.” Eventually, I found how it goes, and punched on.

While I was doing this, I remembered Stranger Than Fiction, a 2006 movie which I enjoy. The movie, written by Zach Helm, starred Will Ferrell as an IRS employee who begins hearing voices in his head. It turns out that, possibly by quantum entanglement, he’s the main character in a novel that’s being written. The author, Karen Eiffel, is played by Emma Thompson.

I sometimes identify with Karen Eiffel. Scenes show her as the writer contemplating how to proceed. Proceeding in her instance means killing the main character. Her process involves a lot of pensively smoking and walking around while exuding a dark air and snapping at others. In my case, it involved a lot of pensively drinking coffee and walking around while exuding a dark air. So, you know, it’s a weak comparison, because I don’t smoke.

But after all, the movie was fiction.

Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy at least one more time.

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Monday’s Theme Music

Today’s theme song thinking finds one of the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s melodic songs from earlier this century in my head.

I looked out to check the weather. The rain had abated. Sunshine was making its way in like it could use a cup of coffee, and the temp was stumbling into the upper forties.

Not bad. No snow. I wondered if snow were on the ridges on the valley’s other side. Thinking of snow brought on RHCP’s 2006 song, “Snow (Hey Oh)”. My mind lit on that one chorus.

Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder
Where it’s so white as snow
Privately divided by a world so undecided
And there’s nowhere to go
Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder
Where it’s so white as snow
Running through the field where all my tracks will be concealed
And there’s nowhere to go

h/t to Genius.com

Music for thought this mid-November day. Have a wondrous day, and wear a mask, please.

Cheers

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Musical Floof

Musical Floof (floofinition) – 1. An animal who likes to sing.

In use: “On one many widely shared videos on the net, a musical floof — a beagle — sits at a piano, hitting keys and howling.”

2. A Flooftish Floofmaican floof reggae (floogae) group formed in Floofminghan, Floofland, in 1979.

In use: “Musical Floof’s song, “Pass the Catnip” was released in 1992 and became a number one hit around the world.”

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One Floof Wrecking Crew

One Floof Wrecking Crew (floofinition) – Floofdiom used to denote that an animal is extremely messy, causes trouble, or gets into mischief.

In use: “After puking up a hairball, Tucker suddenly became a one floof wrecking crew, letting out banshee yells while gallivanting around the house, stalking the other cats, and scratching his claws on the furniture, drawing Michael’s ire.”

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Sunday’s Theme Music

It’s raining this weekend. I like a nice, solid rain, which is what we’ve received. Brew some coffee and chill with relaxing rain sounds. I shouldn’t be surprised that a song about rain entered the mental stream yesterday. That it was Bob Dylan and “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35″ surprised me.

I was finishing up shaving and such when I thought out of nowhere, what’s Bob Dylan’s real name? I came up with Zimmerman but took a few more seconds to remember Robert. And then the song began.

I used this song as theme music back in October, 2017. Its mocking, rambunctious nature always entertains me. The song came out in 1966. I was ten, so the song passed under my radar. But when I became aware of it a few years later, I thought, yeah, this is about getting high. After doing a paper for a pop culture class years later, I appreciated the play on words, how people are throwing stones at others for imagined slights.

Pretty appropriate for these years, in which stones are slung for every damn thing, right? Have a good one. Wear your mask. Enjoy life.

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A Long Dream

A long dream, but not much happening.

I dream of food often, as often as cars, perhaps. Food was heavily featured in this one.

I was outside on grass but under an enormous pavilion. A celebration was planned. I showed up early to help with setup. It unfolded with lazy grace. First, a group of us put out tables and chairs. People arrived with food. Some are friends, but many are strangers. I tell them where to put their food. It’s a wonderful, relaxed scene.

At last, everyone is there and we’re starting. People wander around tables of food, checking the offerings and asking where they can find specifiic food. There’s a barbecue grill setup. Others are trying to light it but can’t. I show them how to do it. A little later, another friend is trying to light the grill. He’s doing it wrong. I’m about to explain how to light it when he figures it out and lights it. I find a plate of food and a place to sit.

Strange to have such a long, relaxed dream, like a day out of life, where we’re all just having a good time, being together. Perhaps it’s a manifestation by my subconscious of being out and socializing during this pandemic era. Or, maybe my mind is having a small celebration in honor of Joe Biden’s victory, and the changes that means.

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Saturday Strings

Haven’t mentioned a few things (skunk, arm, Fitbit) in a while. Being egocentric, I thought I would today.

  1. Oh, the skunk. She (my wife is certain it’s a female) has gained the upper hand on we puny humans. She thumps the board aside (I keep it there so I know she’s coming and going) and does her business.
  2. Last night, however, came turmoil under the house. Thump, thump, at first, rousing me from my television viewing. My wife had retired to bed. The cats were slumbering in preparation for their three A.M. rounds. I was watching “The Expanse” (the UN has just declared war on Mars and the Roci is heading to Io). The thump was singular and distant at first, causing me a “WTF, did-I-really-hear-something” pause. The show was stopped and I listened, counting cats (two were with me) when I did. Yep, the thumps repeated, more numerous and louder. Pushing the cat off my lap (he was listening, too), I leaped up, checked on the third cat (Papi, sleeping in the living room), and traced the sound. Finding its general area, I began thumping around in retaliation.
  3. The thumping underfoot increased in volume and frequency. My wife called, “Are you hearing this, too?” Uh, yeah. The sounds from beneath gravitated toward the front. Grabbing the flashlight, I turned on the front lights and headed outside.
  4. I arrived just in time to see the skunk exit the crawl space and bolt down the sidewalk, down the driveway, and across the street. Its perfume filled the air.
  5. Returning inside, I learned, we’ve been gassed. I reported my findings to my wife. The smell was mostly gone this morning, probably aided when the furnace kicked on and circulated the air. (The garage, though…you can spoon it out like Jello in there.) (Skunk Jello; that’s a thought.) As to what happened…it’s another of nature’s mysteries. I put the board back up this morning.
  6. My broken arm’s recovery continues. Rotation, flexibility, strength, and dexterity improves by day. I can now use ten pound weights to restore my arm and shoulder strength. I try twelves, but my wrist barks with sharp pains, so I cease. It’ll come. Persistence and perseverance. Raising my arm over my head (to put on a shirt, for example) taxes my shoulder. Yeah, working on it.
  7. Can’t do any pushups or chair-dips with my arm/wrist, though. Well, I can do modified pushups, where I’m on my knees. I can plank, and that’s up to three minutes a night.
  8. Meanwhile, Fitbit has congratulated me on hitting my distance goals every day for seventy-eight continuous days. My daily average is twelve miles a day. Although that pleases me, it comes with caveats. I only seriously walk outside three or four days a week, heading up the hills around my house, typically for one to three miles. Most of my daily stuff is derived from running around the house or jogging in place. I have several routes in the house, doing figure eights around the dining and living rooms. I’d like to walk outside more, but darkness comes early, and it’s wet and chilly, and I’m essentially a cream puff. I’ve considered walking in the morning or early afternoon, but that interferes with writing and housework. Priorities, don’t you know.

That’s all that’s fit to print. The cats (Boo, Tucker, and Papi) are all healthy and doing well. Tucker has said no to going outside, which is fine by me. Boo likes to go out in the morning and evening to do his business, but those turns are getting shorter quick. He resorted to the litter box last night. (Um, yea?) Papi, though, is a youngblood, and must roam the night. As its cold, his outside visits are getting shorter, but then, he’s bored, and wants to go out (or have me stay up and play with him, which ain’t gonna happen). Can’t wait till he matures enough to stay inside more.

Hope your life is going well. Take care.

Cheers

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The Halloween Puzzle

We finally completed our Halloween puzzle. Yes, it’s late.

We started off strong, finding the edges and putting it together. Then, life intervened. We wanted to work on the puzzle, but we had so many other things drawing our attention. That probably sounds strange during the COVID-19 Lockdown and Social-distancing Era (henceforth called CLASE). I’m a writer, though, and focused on that. Then there was exercising, fall yardwork, and cleaning house. And the NFL football season began. My wife was busy with exercise and dance classes via zoom, reading, socializing, and making us wonderful soups. (She’s making two more this weekend. Can’t wait.)

So other things occupied our time. But I’d go by it and think, “I should be able to get that area done easily enough.” Sure. Right.

There are thirteen cats. I started by hunting for cat pieces. As the cats were by the pumpkin patch — and the pumpkins are bright orange and easily spotting — I started hunting for and selecting those pieces. I would notice house pieces, sky, etc., and set those aside in other piles, mostly so they were out of my way.

Then, you know how it is with a puzzle. One area gets almost finished, but where the heck is that last piece? Meanwhile, as you search for missing last pieces, other things seem to magically come together.

The next thing I knew, the puzzle had sucked me in.

It was a lot of fun, and a good diversion, if that’s what you want.

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Floof off

Floof off (floofinition) – 1. A floofdiom which means to engage in idle activity, or to waste time.

In use: “For animals, one of the joys of being accepted as a housepet is that it frees them to floof off by sleeping, playing, and pretend wrestling.”

2. A rude expression employed by animals to tell another to leave them alone or go away.

In use: “Henry was a solitary cat with solitary ways and didn’t hesitate to tell other animals to floof off with a swat, snarl, and hiss.”

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