Friday’s Theme Music

I began the day by asking GPT4 via Bing to write about Ashland, Oregon today. Here is the response.

Ashland is a city in southern Oregon that is known for its cultural and natural attractions. Today, the weather was cloudy and cold, with a high of 45°F and a low of 27°F1Some of the things that people could do today in Ashland were visiting the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, hiking in Lithia Park, exploring the ScienceWorks Hands-On Museum, or enjoying the local cuisine and art2Today was also a day of news for Ashland, as some Starbucks workers continued their fight to unionize3, the Mail Tribune announced its closure after 115 years of operation4, and a bill to create a guaranteed income program for Oregon sparked debate5.

It’s interesting, like a school paper. Doesn’t tell me the day or my favorites, sunrise and sunset. Told me a news summary and the weather.

A number of things prompted my choice. I’ve been using GPT4 via Bing for about two weeks. Getting into dialogues with it is interesting. Meanwhile, used GPT4 to write some science fiction. Here’s a sample.

Beneath the cathedral of indigo heavens, where constellations danced like divine jewels, a solitary figure traversed the twilight realm. The forest, an intricate tapestry of shadows and whispers, bore witness to his journey. His gait, a melody of steps whispered into the hallowed earth, carried him onward like a specter of dreams.

The air, heavy with the scent of ancient secrets and verdant life, caressed the wanderer’s face. Gossamer strands of otherworldly mist, entwined in the tresses of nocturnal blooms, played with the edges of his cloak. Above, the moon, a luminous pearl suspended amidst the cosmos, bathed the world in ethereal opalescence.

The wanderer’s eyes, twin oceans of liquid azure, were imbued with a tale of a time long forgotten, and his heart resonated with an unyielding determination. He bore the weight of an untold legacy upon his shoulders, a mantle woven from the threads of fate and chance. His destination shimmered like a mirage on the horizon, a promise, a whisper of hope as ephemeral as the morning dew.

End GPT4

Any thoughts?

Let the record establish that this is Friday, March 17, 2023. Sol spread sunny wealth across the winting land at 7:20 and twelves hours later, sunset takes place at 7:20. It’s an Ashlandia equinox. It’s St. Patrick’s Day. I don’t celebrate it as I once did. Not even wearing green…yet. I’ll don green fleece, I suppose.

Personally, in another sign of life and progress, my niece’s 38th birthday is today. She has three boys of her own now. It’s one of those holy-cow moments.

I have Harry Nilsson and “Jump Into the Fire” from 1971 in the morning mental music stream. This is because the drummer on the song, Jim Gordon, passed away this week, 77 years old. Suffering some issues, he’d murdered his mother and died in a medical and psychiatric prison.

I feel like a good day has begun. Stay pos. Coffee has been tested and approved for my consumption this morning. Of course, I’m self-regulated – inspector, tester, approver. Now strong checks and balances built into this system.

Here’s the music. Cheers

Thursday’s Theme Music

Light and shadows tangoed on the bedroom walls. The wind had come up and at 7:24 AM, the sun showed it. Working together, they had the trees dancing.

It’s Thursday, March 16, 2023. A Sunday pizza party is on for a few friends. One of them likes organizing this about every five to six months. Just a get-together to eat, chat, and see faces. Three couples, six faces.

It’s 42 degrees F at my Ashlandia place. Blue skies. Sunset will be at 7:16 this evening. Till then, the temperature will go up the numbers until finding 44 F.

Just finished reading a couple booksWe Are Legion (We Are Bob), The Chalk Circle Man — and am starting The Thursday Murder Club and Full. Contacting contractors is in the to-do list for various house improvements and repairs, since it’s March and the weather should become acceptable for these things to be done, like painting the house and repairing a window. And isn’t it interesting that ‘contractor’ is one of those words that end in ‘-or’ instead of ‘er’?

The cats are out. They like the sunshine and warmer temps but dislike the wind. Neither are wind fans. I expect one to start beating on the door at any moment.

“Nowhere Man” by the Beatles (1965) is stuck in the morning mental music stream. I don’t know if The Neurons desposited them or some other agency. No clue as to the why it’s playing. I’ve used it as theme music before and wrote about it then so I’ll not re-state all that. Just seems to fit some mode today. Maybe I feel like I’m nine again on some level. I chose this video they took about doing the song and then perform it in a ‘live’ setting, comparing it to the notes ingrained in my head. I’ve always been intrigued by the differences between studio recordings and how the band play it live.

Some of the catalyst for “Nowhere Man” might be the text exchanges with Mom. I’m asking her about the inspiration for her children’s names and the story behind my own. Michael wasn’t first choice. Anyway, I’d known a few of those stories and was surprised that the story was different this time. Did I mis-remember or is she telling it differently? I go with the latter. Either way, it’s a little bummer that what I recall isn’t what I hear now, because one of us is changing their tale.

Here’s the music. Hope you enjoy it. I’m off to let the cats in and get coffee. Stay pos, and carpes Thursday. Cheers

Friday’s Theme Music

White billows of clouds push and pull across the blue sky. Sunshine bullies the southern and eastern views. “Gorgeous,” the cats say.

I agree with them. This Friday, March 10, 2023, it’s 39 F outside but sunny, with a high of 50 expected. Showers for the next five days, the weather minions tell me with a wink. Highs about 50 F, low of 36. Ashlandia’s weather is sliding closer to its norm. The winds have settled into an infrequent light breeze, but they gave us a rainy tussle yesterday, shoving people around, fighting against car doors being shut, trying to rip hats and clothes off, and mangling umbrellas.

Today’s sun presence began at dawn, a little before 6:32 AM, and will continue for almost twelve hours. All that changes on Sunday. We’re springing ahead. Sunrise won’t be until 7:30 then, but we’ll have more shine on the day’s tail end. Of course, it means less sleep because if I get up at my usual time, it’ll be an hour later.

I have the song, “Magic”, by Pilot (1973) in my head. Dream stuff. In the dream, I was going through an almost empty city looking for magic. While it was a modern city, I wore dusty old white robes, bit torn, with sandals, and had been walking for a long time. At first, I didn’t know what I was looking for but then, in the dream, it came to me, I’m looking for magic. With that, I started the air for magic, following my nose, letting it lead me, and then looking. I came across others and spoke to them about it, and sometimes cars would drive by, but no one was helping me. I stayed on my own. Then, voila, walked around a corner. There was a aluminum briefcase against the wall. With some surprise, I knew it was mine. I thought I’d lost it years before. Opening it, I found magic.

Thinking about the dream later, I kept wondering what did I see in the briefcase that I knew it was magic? But, like the movie Pulp Fiction, I never saw the briefcase’s contents. Gold didn’t come out of my briefcase, though, and I never thought or said it was beautiful. Then, though, The Neurons came through with Pilo out of my childhood.

Stay pos. This is Friday. Pretty exciting, huh? Well, all kinds of approaches can be employed for Friday. Me, it’s Friday, time to write again, woo-hoo. That just might be my coffee shouting. I’ve had a cup already.

Here’s the song. Cheers

Thursday’s Theme Music

Windy is the weather word for today. Windy, as in lots of wind, and it’s gonna get intense. Not hurricane, cyclone, tornado, or typhoon level, no. But hold onto your hats. Or tie them on tight.

Today is Thursday, 3/9/2023. Temperature is 42. We lack snow, fog, and rain at the moment. We offer blue sky, white clouds, and sunshine on this Ashlandia morning. The sun was coming up at 6:33 AM, when Papi did his seal bark to demand exit number three. The window beating to come back in was at 7:05. Ashlandia’s sunset comes at 6:10. We’ll be up to 42 F by then.

Papi is back out now, sitting on the porch, glaring at the wind, very dismayed with the weather. He’ll be wanting back in soon, and then will rest so that he’s fresh for his nightly needs. He is off, victimized by the book club visitors last night. Papi is not one to socialize with people or animals. He’s a loner. When they arrived, he retreated to the master BR and sulked on the bed, listening for one of them attempting to sneak up on him. He’s knockin’ to get back in now. Excuse me.

Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to be gone so long. Had to pay the floof tax and tell him how smart and handsome he is until he said, “Enough,” and dashed off. Those of you with floofs will understand.

Papi is a neat and clean cat, though. Not a fur out of place. Any out of place furs are immediately shed. It’s quite a system.

I dreamed I was trying to remember who sang “Baby Blue”, a song which came out in 1971. As part of my dream effort, I kept watching a black and white static-filled TV screen while older me shouted at younger me, “Bad Finger. It’s Bad Finger.” Younger me would not listen, but kept muttering, “Bad Company?” Arrgh.

It’s a walking song in the morning mental music stream today. Out yesterday, walking today. Winting is back and the sun and cold wind medley was enhanced by things trying to figure out if they should bloom now. All very pleasant, however. Reminded me of youthful moments. The Neurons tossed a Grand Funk song, “I’m Your Captain (Closer to Home)” from 1970 into the mix. It’s a song I often recalled when walking or driving and getting close to home. I often traveled in my youth, and then again in the military, and then again in marketing.

That’s enough of that, I’m sure. Stay pos. Treat Thursday like a golden opportunity and do your thang. Peace out.

Slideday’s Theme Music

We continue with a shrinkage problem here in Ashlandia. Yes, the snow patches are holing and shrinking. Snow repair teams were sent in yesterday. Although they worked with demonic intensity, it was slapdash, thin in many places, and the snow continues to disappear.

It’s Friday, March 3, 2023 — 030323 — in Ashlandia. Call it Slideday, though. Came up with that decades ago as I noticed bosses and organizations often let things slide on Friday. “We’ll pick it up Monday.” Unless customer orders, hard delivery dates, or the end of quarter/end of year was underway. Then you work until it’s done, damn the day of the weak.

Sun’s presence struck Ashlandia at 6:43 this AM. Starting at 26 F, the temperature climbed to 32 F and will go on to 42 F today. A weather monitor told us on TV last night that our average daytime high temperatures are hanging about ten degrees below normal. Ashlandia will see sunset at 6:03 this evening. Stretched white clouds sail a faint blue sky. Sunshine smiles on it.

Got a favorite song in the morning mental music stream. Reading the news inspired The Neurons to dig up an old political ditty performed by this Brit group, The Who. No, not the Guess Who?. Told the tale of Mom buying this album for me when I employed it as a theme song back in 2017, so I won’t belabor that aspect. I cranked up the stereo for “Won’t Get Fooled Again” back in 1971. Hard to believe that was just 52 years ago. Seems like just 20 years ago.

Stay pos and seize the slideday. I’m seizing the coffee. It’s a start, right? Carpe caffeine. Here’s the memory music.


Fursday Theme Music

Sunshine beamed in on gray rays at 6:45 Ashlandia morning time. As the hours scurry past, snow fields lose their battle against heat. Their edges draw in with softer roundness. Reinforcement flurries are flying in later today. Will it be enough? Will it arrive in time? It’s dire for the snow. Caught in the situation, icicles cling to gutters and drainpipes. Crystallized snow falls off branches and leaves with tinkling hisses.

It’s 31 F, on its way to 44 F, according to the weather mongers.

It’s Thursday, March 2, 2023, a hazy wintry shade. Spring has temporarily slid its intentions back into the Ashlandia shadows. But fresh stocks of doughnuts are in stores and bakeries. Sunset arrives in the evening, 6:03.

Les chats aren’t pleased with the weather situation, particularly Papi. His energy boils up. Sunshine reinvigorates him. Tthere he goes, dashing through the snow…well, not dashing, but employing small steps, bean-toeing on his tiny paws — such small murder mittens, he has — back to the house’s inside warmth for distraction. We have things to do, we explain to him, around petting and playing with him. More, he begs with sweet eyes and voice. What are we to do against such a power but obey?

I cleaned our carpetting the other day. As I drifted through that mechanical process, my freed mind contemplated me, my life, my writing. Cleaning house is always a meditative function for me. As thoughts joined and fragmented, I drifted through the usual shallows of who I am, where I’m at, and where I’m hiding. Out of this, The Neurons pulled a song up, dusted it off, and put into into the mental music stream where it still plays this morning. “Holly Holy” by Neil Diamond” when I was a young teenager. Looking it up, records show it was 1969. It wasn’t a popular song among my friends. Too slow and most said, “I don’t understand it.” Nor did I. It’s buildup hooked me, and I sat, listening to the words, trying to get them right, baffled by what I heard. But I heard and understood some of the first lines, “Where I am, what I am, what I believe in,” had me. This is an exploration and a declaration. I identified with it.

Coffee’s aromatic steam rises from my cup, enticing my lips. Stay pos, and own this Thursday like it’s a gift you didn’t expect. Here’s the tune. Cheers

Tuesday’s Wandering Thought

They were reading anecdotes about children mentioning previous life experiences.

“Did you ever have something like that?” his wife asked.

He nodded. “When I was a child, less than five years old, I told people that I’d been in the civil war. I called myself a rebel, and always wanted CSA hats and flags and wore them, carrying a bugle, and was really proud of being born in Virginia because that’s where our capitol was. Adults were always correcting me about the capitol being Washington D.C. and not in Virginia, so it was confusing and frustrating for a while.”

Thursday’s Theme Music

The weather witches (it is too a thing) whisper to me that we’ll be functioning between 30 and 38 degrees F outside, as Winting continues holding on to Ashlandia. The sun blended in at 7:06 AM, a little heat, a little light, then suddenly shafts of brilliant bright, gone before you blink. Clouds will be hanging about throughout the day, Thursday, Feb. 18, 2023. Sunset’s moment comes at 5:45 PM.

Had a relaxing meetup with friends for beers last night, just eight of us for about ninety minutes at a local brewery, Caldera. Good to see them and reflect on news, culture, and life. A quick five was spent remembering horses’ names from movies and television shows. Silver, Buttermilk, Scout, Ol’ Blue, Hidalgo, etc. News of Raquel Welch’s passing had made the news just before we met up, so there was extensive conversation about 1,000,000 Years B.C. from 1967, followed up by a Quest for Fire and Caveman.

Despite the cold temperatures, Papi insisted on braving the temps to prove himself. He was out and then back in ten minutes later, as that sunshine just didn’t cut the cold enough. Part of that experience had be telling him, “I’m going to close the door in three, two, one,” before he made the dash. The Neurons pulled out a song called “After Hours” and slotted it into the morning mental music stream. “After Hours” was released in 1969 but I didn’t know it until the mid-seventies. Stationed at Clark Air Base on a unaccompanied tour, I picked up a Velvet Underground tape, and this song was on it. The Neurons keyed on the words, “But if you close the door,” which is repeated often in the school. It’s a sweet, mellow song.

The wife has a Zoom coffee call in the other room. People who used to live in Ashlandia, who were attending the Y exercise class — you know the one, led by Mary for the last thirty-five years, right? — wanted to see their friends and share their news. K has been attending this Mon-Wed-Fri class since we moved here in 2005. It’s been the key to many social connections, including the book club which she started with five other class members. Membership has changed but they continue to meet once a month. K hosts in March, which means we’ll be doing a big clean.

Stay pos, and carpe diem. I’ll carpe some coffee first. Here’s the music. Cheers

Monday’s Theme Music

I listened to Alexi’s report. My wife joined me. We were at the breakfast bar, where Alexa nests. “What she say?” my wife asked. I asked Alexa for the weather again.

She finished her report. My wife and I checked the windows. East, south, west. Alexa had said it was mostly sunny. “I don’t see any sunshine,” K said. So it wasn’t just me.

It’s Monday, Feb. 13, 2023. Not a speck of sun is visible past the battleship sky. 34 F out, we anticipate rain and clouds all day and a mid-40s high. Sunrise was at 7:11 this morning and sunset will come at 5:41 PM. Snow warnings are out for tomorrow.

Taxes were filed yesterday. Bedding washed. Smelling the fresh bedding as I climbed into bed summoned childhood experiences. Mom would tuck us in and say, “I washed your sheets today. Smell them. Don’t they smell fresh?” I would do as directed and smell the sheets, and agree, they smelled fresh, like sunshine and wind.

I watched Superbowl LVII, which makes me think, liver. That was Superbowl Liver. Just a weird brain tick. KC Chiefs won, and no serious injuries were reported, so far. K was pleased that KC won. She thinks Mahomes is a cutie pie. She didn’t watch because she didn’t want to jinx him.

From the Superbowl, via The Neurons, I have Huey Lewis and the News singing, “If This Is It” from 1984. The Chiefs lined up for a field goal to take the lead. Eleven seconds left. “This is it,” the announcer said on Fox. “Playing ‘If This Is It’ by Huey Lewis and the News’,” The Neurons said. And so it still plays in the morning mental music stream, and I pass it on to you. Not a bad theme song. It’s Monday – if this is it, fill in the blank.

Stay positive. Cats returned from their outdoor recon. They report that it’s cold and there’s no sunshine. “Tell that to Alexa,” I tell them. “She needs the input.” Reporting live from Ashlandia, here’s the music. Cheers

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