This is it: Old Year’s Day 2023. 2024 begins tomorrow. Despite that big event, it’s chilly, wet, and foggy this morning in Ashlandia, where coffee feels like a medical necessity to get the day started. Maybe that’s just me. Don’t know. I’m in the house and not going out until I’ve have enough coffee to get un-naked. It’s a public kindness thing.
41 F now around my house while the weather masters say it’s 48 F elsewhere in town with a 53 degree high on the radar. This might have been a record warm winter month for us.
2023 was a solid year personally. I wrote a novel and revised it multiple times, and the process goes on. My family members have endured health issues, and it’s not pleasant to be a spectator to that, but they continue pulling through. My wife continues managing her health matters, and the cats are doing well.
I’m not happy with my country. While the economy is doing well, the political and cultural divide yawns wider. Social progress regarding equality and justice slid backward in many ways. Under the guise of ‘freedom’, our education system stays under attack by conservatives limiting what is taught and what can people can read, which is basically the opposite of freedom. I won’t go into the multilple failures I see in the GOP with their continuing support of Trump no matter what, except to say it’s disappointing and a challenge to all branches of government.
Gun violence remains prevalent and demoralizing in the US as the nation collectively refuses to do anything except T&P, which does nothing to reduce violence, curtail the killing, or help the victims. It’s a pathetic and inept response to hear of a these mass shootings and learn that ‘leaders’ offer their thoughts and prayers. How many years of thoughts and prayers has it been? How many more will come before anything beyond thoughts and prayers are offered? As my friend Jill would eloquently say, GRRRRRR.
As for the rest of the world, I’m disappointed that wars continue and threaten to expand to encompass more of the world, just as we were experiencing a century ago.
The Neurons fed “Time Has Come Today” by the Chamber Brothers out of 1968 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark delayed). Just thinking about time, for some reason (sure, that’s a smidget of snark, which is called smark). I posted it before, back in December, 2017, and that point was much the same: thinking about time (“Time!”) and there it is in my head.
Many people think of these song getting stuck in your head as an earworm. I’ve read that about 96% of people experience an earworm once a month or more. I seem to experience one everyday. Studies say that people who hold music as important to them experience earworms more frequently. I’ve never addressed how important music is to me, but Mom was always playing music, and it became a habit for me. They rarely bother me, these earworms, although every once in a while, a song burrows in and makes itself comfortable that does irritate me. “Yummy, Yummy, Yummy,” is one of those songs which comes to mind.
Stay pos, refresh yourself for the tilt against another year, be strong, and lean forward. Hey, ho, let’s go. Here’s the music. Happy Old Year’s Day. Cheers
Been under the weather for the last five days but green tea, napping, and patience has it feel like it’s ending. Time, you know, will reveal if that’s true. Wasn’t too much of a sickness, you know, just some energy-depleting, momentum robbing thing lurking in my guts, drumming in my head, and burning out my eyes. Through it all, though, I’ve had positive if frenzied dreams.
Today is 12/22/23. It’s the Friday before Christmas and all through the house, everything’s about as usual. Cats sleeping, Papi on the sofa, Tucker under the dining room table. They look sweet when they sleep like that, and they are sweet boys, although they’re a little emotionally damaged from whatever they endured before arriving at our door.
The heat is on — so is the fireplace — because it’s cold outside, baby. Was 33 F and foggy; now it’s 37, foggy, and rainy. Ain’t no sunshine taking up space in the sky.
My wife has been baking and baking. She admits that she became a little carried away with her intentions but the kitchen is at last still, the baked goods prepared as gifts except for the ones she took with her to exercise class to dole out.
As for the news —
Yeah. We know. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Weird song stuck in the morning mental music stream (Trademark deflated). Song by The Turtles, “She’d Rather Be With Me”, released when I was eleven bloody years old, was thrown into the mmms as I emptied the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen. The giggling Neurons wouldn’t say why they put that song in, seemingly amused that I even asked. One sputtered, “You should know,” and they all guffawed and covered their mouths like they were all in on a joke that I should know. Damn Neurons.
This was another song learned through the 1960s routine of someone playing it on a record at home (the older sis is the culprit today) and hearing it repeatedly on TV and the radio. The video, in fact, comes to us from The Ed Sullivan Show.
Stay positive, test negative, be strong, and take care of yourself. The holidays are almost over. For some of you, it’s a happy time, for others, we endure. Off to get coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers
December 20, 2023 is a Wednesday and carries the weight of spring. Confused by the signals the weather is giving, some flowers are blooming. We surfed a night of smooth rain, overnight lows in the mid 40s F. Our high today will bubble into the mid 50s. Casual clouds, thin and stretched, barely mask the blue sky. The cats are struggling to adjust, shedding fur after gaining their winter coats and now finding they don’t need them. Great clumps are left wherever they pause to sleep or wash.
Please, though, give us snow on the mountains. Please. It’s needed.
I surfed the news but left it after a short visit. Not depressing so much as it’s meh. We’re in a waiting stage for some many outcomes and perpetually checking and reviewing developments, breaking news, new revelations of old news and prognostications about what will happen has become tedious. I’m ravenous for some sense of an ending.
Musically, first I had “Too Marvelous for Words” whirling around the morning mental music stream (Trademark pummeled). It’s been performed by a long list of crooners but Mom often played Frank Sinatra’s cover while cleaning around the house. Released in 1956, the year of my birth, it’s drummed into my musical psyche. I have no idea why The Neurons voted it into my mind this morning.
But before it became too comfortable, a song inspired by the floofs was brought into the mmms. Released in 1972, “Children of the Revolution” by T. Rex had Elton John and Ringo Starr playing as part of the lineup. Although I enjoyed it, it went out of head until I heard the Violent Femmes version of it. A friend was colossal Femfan, and was playing the song in her car one day when we went to lunch together in Palo Alto. I asked if she knew the song’s origins, and then gleefully told the tale. I’d only heard it after my cousin, just returned from the UK where his father had been stationed with the USAF, played it.
How did the floofs play into this memory? I’d been teasing them, trying to trick them by pretending they weren’t being fed. They weren’t fooled, which triggered me singing, “You won’t fool the kitties of the revolution.”
Stay pos, be cool, remain strong, and leeeaaannn forward. Coffee has already touched my lips. Here’s the music. Cheers
Young, probably in my twenties in this dream, I was outside with my wife and some friends. Sunshine bathed us in what felt like a warm, beautiful day.
An unknown and unseen man was telling me that he had a car for me. Excitement growing, I laughed and joked about what kind of car this guy was giving me when I looked across the way and saw the front end and passenger compartment of a red Dino Ferrari 246 GTS.
Gasping, I asked, “Is that the car?”
See, the Dino 246 (pictured in photos) was released in 1969. I was thirteen and had discovered sports car and Formula 1 racing. When the car came out, I found it stunning. Even better, a few years later, the 246 GTS was released. This was a targa version of the same car. I’m embarrassed to admit how much I studied and drooled over photos of this car. Eventually, a plastic model was purchased and put together, and the model found space on my bedroom shelves.
But the unseen man said, “No, that’s not it.”
Disappointment staggered me. Then he indicated a black 246 GTS sitting elsewhere. “That’s your car.”
Ecstasy fluttered through me as I goggled at the gleaming black gem of machinery. The man was explaining, “It’s not a 246, but an Evo.” Even as he spoke, I saw the flares that marked the Evo. Evos privately reworked Dinos with upgraded engines and mechanical gear, and not a targa, but a fixed top.
I couldn’t believe that this beautiful car was to be mine. I asked about it a dozen different ways and the man repeatedly assured me, “That’s your car.” Most of the rest of the dream was spent riding around in the car with my wife, showing it off to people and explaining what it was.
But then came a moment when I’d parked the car and found a man with a petrol hose in his hand standing by it. Going to him, I questioned him and discovered that he planned to dose the car with gasoline and set it on fire. I firmly told him, “You are not setting my car on fire.” My voice and words were enough to send him hustling and stumbling away. I then had to explain to others who came up what had transpired as the man with the hose watched from a distance. Seeing him watching, I thought, I’m taking my car and leaving.
With a blue sky lightly skewed with faint white clouds stretched across it, we’re continuing a mild weather trend. Woke up to 33 F in Ashlandia, where the coffee houses are warm and the coffee is above average. We still haven’t had any snow on the valley floor. I think we’ve usually had some snow by now during my eighteen winters here. Won’t get any today, as stagnant air keeps clouds from coming in and the clouds already here aren’t up to dropping snow. Our temperature will test the upper fifties before the sun’s influence capitulates to the Earth’s turn.
This is Saturday, December 16, 2023.
A busy day is planned for us. Besides the usual ration of Saturday writing, errands, shopping, and chores, we’re attending the Broadway Dancers and their annual flash mob presentation on the downtown plaza. A few friends are in the ensemble, and it’s fun watching their energetic precision presentations. Later, we’re joining friends at their house for a traditional Swedish smorgasbord. Should be fab.
For reasons known only to The Neurons, I’ve got “Heart Full of Soul” by the Yardbirds in my morning mental music stream (Trademark dated). The Neurons are full of secrets and surprises but this one wins the prize. Minding my own business as I did morning things involving the floofs, I found lyrics going through my head. After a few minutes of listening and following the crumbs The Neuons dropped, I recognized the 1965 song. Its presence truly mystifies me. I don’t think I’ve heard it in decades, but I vividly remember my older sister playing the 45 on her little record player. The guitar sound mesmerized me. I didn’t know the group at all then but later learned who they were, and that the guitarist on that song was Jeff Beck.
Stay pos and free, be strong and brave, and keep leaning forward. I’ve got enough coffee in me already that I’m doing those things, at least until the caffeine wears out. Here’s the music video. Cheers
Chilly 34 F this morning, but sunshine and blue sky rule the space above the trees and mountains around Ashlandia, where the service is above average and the menus are varied. Peak temperature will be 56 F. Unlike yesterday, spring isn’t hovering in the air; it is a hazy shade of winter.
Today is Friday and this is December 15, 2023. We’re halfway through December once we pass midday. But sixteen days remain for 2023. 2024 is coming. So is winter for us in the northern hemisphere. I’m really surprised by how little snow has visited us here. That doesn’t bode well for next year’s water supply.
I don’t think I mentioned that we made our crock pot candy the other night. Pounds of nuts, bark, peanut butter chips, and milk and semi-sweet chocolate melted and stirred together and then plopped out on wax paper. Well, from many pounds of ingredients comes many pounds of candy. We bagged them up in a seasonal look and shared with others. Fourteen of my beer drinkin’ friends were gifted the treats. My wife calls them addictive. Several recipients emailed me to agree, and some even called them divine. Just tastes like the old Goo-Goo Clusters to me, minus the middle maple or vanilla.
Musically, The Neurons have surprised me with a gift song in my morning mental music stream (Trademark digitized) from an album by The Who, Quadrophenia, which was released in 1973, yeah, fifty years ago. Today’s song is “The Real Me”, a classic Who rocker — loud guitars, screaming vocals, and lots of drumming, but this one features the bassist, Entwhistles, basically doing lead guitar guitar on his bass. So cool to a teenager about to breach adulthood, and I still enjoy it. I also included a cut from the movie which resulted from the album.
The song choice by my head makes sense though in the context of our times. We always want to know who are celebrities are and what they’re really like. Beyond pop culture, we’re hunting the truth in our political leaders, too. Many will claim to be one thing, claiming they’re compassionate and religious and go to church regularly, regaling us with tales of principles and bravery, but their actions betray their claims. Meanwhile, others are maligned, being called liars and criminals despite lack of evidence. And then we meet people, or have relationships with others in which it seems like something shady is going on. Can I see the real you? I don’t know; many have become clever chameleons.
Be brave and strong and true and positive. Lean forward as others have done in our past to bring about better terms and conditions for living the best way possible. Keep advancing.
Here’s the music. There’s my coffee. Hey, ho, let’s go. Blitzkrieg Friday. Cheers
I realized after a conversation last night that I was taught to hold the door for others — man, woman, child, animal; say please and thank you; always put the toilet seat down; and clean up after yourself.
I think about them as I do them, and why I do them. What I like best is that others usually thank me for holding the door, and others often hold the door for me. That’s the kind of place I’d like us to be. At least it’s a start. Then we can build off that.
Today is Thursday, December 14, 2023, but when I walked outside with the cats this morning, it felt like we’d leaped forward into spring outside. Nothing was in bloom but the air carried spring’s sass with sunshine, a blue-ish sky featuring a bevy of small white and gray clouds that looked like turtles reflecting dawn’s light, and 46 F. Then I sneezed several times like allergies had kicked in.
Celebrated a friend’s seventieth last night with her and other friends. Now retired, she’s a world-renown forensics expert in hair and fur. Egged on by two former work colleagues present, themselves forensics experts, she shared interesting tales with us. Entertaining time was had by all.
I have an unusual song circulating the morning mental music stream (Trademark buried). For reasons which they won’t reveal, “Walk Right In” is playing in my head. This is the 1963 cover by The Rooftop Singers. I had to wiki that. The song was written by Gus Cannon in and recorded by Gus Cannon’s Jug Stompers, a man and group I didn’t know of until I read it today. Mom used to play the song on her record player and sing along. The words are simple:
Walk right in, sit right down Daddy, let your mind roll on Walk right in, sit right down Daddy, let your mind roll on Everybody’s talkin’ ’bout a new way of walkin’ Do you want to lose your mind? Walk right in, sit right down Daddy, let your mind roll on
Walk right in, sit right down Baby, let your hair hang down Walk right in, sit right down Baby, let your hair hang down Everybody’s talkin’ ’bout a new way of walkin’ Do you want to lose your mind? Walk right in, sit right down Baby, let your hair hang down
All my life, though, I wondered, what is the new way of walkin’? I remembered asking Mom and hearing laughter in response, which just vexed the hell out of me. I guess some things will always be a mystery.
I know that Dr Hook covered it later but it’s The Rooftop Singers delivering to the mmms, so I stayed with them.
Stay strong, be positive, lean forward, and enjoy the video. Coffee is in me and driving me to get up and go. Once I’m done in the bathroom, I’m out the door to the writing day. Here’s the music. You have a good one. Cheers
First, it’s a longer post than usual for me. Politics drive it. Let’s get into it.
34 F greeted me in Ashlandia, where the sunshine is bright, and winters are above average. Blue skies, wind, and sunshine followed us into this Tuesday, December 12, 2023. Already 53 F, a high of 55 F is being suggested.
I’m disgusted, again, with political news. My focus now is on Texas. My major concern focuses on the anti-abortion farce in red states, and the bullshit about the issue which they spread. Texas under the GOP often competes with Florida is spreading the most disgusting bullshit. They succeeded this time with the case of Kate Cox. Pregnant, a mother of two and resident of Texas, her physician informed her that her fetus had trisomy 18. She was told her fetus had malformations of the spine, heart, brain and limbs.
What mother wants to hear that? A devastating diagnosis, most trisomy 18 pregnancies end in stillbirths. Infants born alive with this diagnosis endure anguished lives, which are often short and painful.
But those paragons of virtue we know as the Texas GOP knows better than doctors, unintentionally ironic. Remember how Republicans always insisted that ACA, or Obamacare, would have death panels if it was instituted. Yeah, look who insists on death panels now. That’d be you, Republicans. This is their interpretation of ‘right to life’; so long as your right belongs to them, they’ll decide who lives and dies.
Observers outside of the magic conspiracy cone where Republicans often now live expected this. We all know from experience that the right wing loves to project what it does on others. Just read almost anything that Donald Trump, a documented liar now in court for fraud and other crimes, says about lying and fraud. Remember when he said anyone being investigated by the FBI is unworthy of being POTUS. *chuckle*. Now that it’s him, it’s a witch-hunt being conducted by the deep state. The deep state is the GOP’s favorite boogeyman, their reason for anything happening against them.
Kate Cox was also told that if she continued her pregnancy, it posed threats to her health and was at risk of losing her future fertility.
Nonsense, those learned doctors on the Texas Supreme Court said, denying Kate Cox an abortion. She’d, fortunately, felt how the wind was blowing and vacated Texas to get the modern health care needed in a more advanced state than Texas, which would be every blue state.
What pisses me off as much as the stance taken by these cruel Texan frauds is that back when all these harsh anti-abortion bills were passed, those outside of the GOP conspiracy bubble had foreseen the shit that went down in Texas. We were revolted when Texas pretended to care about the mother’s health and exigent circumstances because we knew Texas Republicans were not the flexible, thoughtful, compassionate, and intelligent people their exemption bill needed them to be. And they proved so at the first opportunity.
Soon after the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade last year, horror stories started emerging of women denied medically urgent abortions for pregnancies gone dangerously awry. In response, the anti-abortion movement developed a sort of conspiracy theory to rationalize away the results of their policies.
Abortion rights activists, they argued, were deliberately misconstruing abortion laws, leading doctors to refuse to treat women who obviously qualified for exceptions. “Abortion advocates are spreading the dangerous lie that lifesaving care is not or may not be permitted in these states, leading to provider confusion and poor outcomes for women,” said a report by the anti-abortion Charlotte Lozier Institute. The Catholic conservative Richard Doerflinger accused “pro-abortion groups” of spreading “false and exaggerated claims in order to ‘paralyze’ physicians and discredit the laws.”
Whether this argument stemmed from genuine denial or a cynical desire to mislead the public, a shattering case in Texas shows how absurd it is. Late last month, Kate Cox, a 31-year-old mother of two, learned that her latest, much-wanted pregnancy was doomed because of a severe genetic disorder. If the pregnancy continued, she was likely to have a stillbirth, and if she didn’t, the baby had virtually no chance of surviving long outside the womb.
She’d made several trips to the emergency room for severe cramping and what seemed to be leaking amniotic fluid. Her doctor told her that carrying the pregnancy to term could jeopardize her future fertility, and Cox very much wants more children. So she, her husband and her doctor sued the state, seeking a court order to allow her to terminate her pregnancy in Texas. If the Texas abortion ban had workable medical exceptions, it’s hard to see how they wouldn’t apply to Cox. But it doesn’t, and the state attorney general, Ken Paxton, fought the Cox family and their doctor every step of the way.
Goldberg elaborates on what Kate Cox did chasing the exemption and pursuing the best outcome for her and her fetus, and concludes —
An irony here is that if the State Supreme Court had allowed Cox to end her pregnancy in Texas, it might have benefited hard-line abortion opponents. Were the state to codify clear exemptions for people in extreme medical distress, offering a sliver of mercy to women like Zurawski and Cox, its callous abortion ban might seem slightly more politically palatable. That, after all, is why abortion opponents falsely insist that such clarity already exists.
But right-wing politicians and those who support them would rather inflict unimaginable suffering on women than relax the tiniest bit of control over their medical decisions. I asked Duane if any anti-abortion groups had filed amicus briefs on Cox’s behalf. I wasn’t surprised that the answer was no.
Exactly.
In a tangent, I remember being horrified by what Donald J Trump declared when running for POTUS in 2016. There were some who suggested that he’d be different if he won because the office changed the person in it.
They were fucking wrong. All of us with eyes could clearly see what he would be. We were right, and we’re right now: his chuckling, aw-shucks comments about only be a dictator on the first day in office is total bullshit. That’s exactly what he wants.
By the way, in other Texas political news, Republicans have been battling to limit what moderators can do on Reddit. They passed HB20 in 2022. From CNN/Business:
Texas officials passed HB 20 last year amid allegations that tech platforms unfairly censor conservative speech. Social media companies have widely denied the claims, but the Texas law imposes sweeping obligations on platforms, prohibiting them from moving to “block, ban, remove, deplatform, demonetize, de-boost, restrict, deny equal access or visibility to, or otherwise discriminate against expression.”
Mainstream legal experts have said if HB 20 survives legal challenge, tech companies would be forced to host spam, hate speech, pornography and other legal-but-problematic material on their platforms in order to comply with the text of the law. It could also serve as a blueprint for other states. More broadly, they have said, letting the government force private parties to host speech would reverse decades of First Amendment precedent, which has held that the government may not compel private speech.
Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton celebrated the court ruling in a tweet, saying: “I just secured a MASSIVE VICTORY for the Constitution & Free Speech in fed court: #BigTech CANNOT censor the political voices of ANY Texan!”
Let’s pause to savor Paxton’s celebration for the Constitution and Free Speech for a few moments.
More evident of GOP hypocrisy and double standards, to me.
I’ve had three songs taking turns in the morning mental music stream (Trademark stolen by the deep state). First up was, “I’ll Do Anything” from the musical Oliver! No audit trail showed up to inform me why that song was in the stream.
The next came up in parallel to feeding the cats and was less of a surprise, as it was “My Floof” based on the song, “My Girl”, written by Smoky Robinson and Ronald White, and originally performed by The Temptations back in 1965. “My Floof” was performed by me and the Flooftations in my sunlit kitchen. Sorry, no videos exist.
Finally, though, Jackson Browne was singing “Doctor, My Eyes” from 1972, when I was in high school. The Neurons explained, the reason for this song’s presence in the morning mental music stream is simple and drawn right from the lyrics:
Doctor, my eyes have seen the years And the slow parade of fears without crying Now I want to understand I have done all that I could To see the evil and the good without hiding You must help me if you can
Alright, I’ve vented enough. Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee is being served, and I shall partake. Have the best day you can muster. Here’s the music. Cheers
Good morning. Today is Saturday, December 2, 2023.
I am so aggrieved today. Not due to the weather. 41 F with a high of 48 F in our sights, it’s been raining, and snow tops the northern ridge that marks our valley’s boundary. So, the weather is standard late fall trope for our area, cold, misty, dull and wet, something worthy of being the backdrop for a dystopian trudge as the earth’s course leads us around the sun and into winter.
No, the issue is that it is December and the parties and activities commence. We’re due to appear at several already, all due to my enchanting wife, who has a strong friend base who likes her and enjoys her presence. As several are couples things, I’m invited, too. I know most of the people, so they’re not strangers, and I want to be the right person, supportive of her as she is for me, but that means leaning way out of my preferred mode of being alone and writing. It also means I must play reindeer games, the term I coined decades ago for cleaning up and dressing up for December parties and activities. Top of the list is a haircut. After being required to have haircuts all the time for the military and then frequently when I was in marketing, I dislike worrying about my appearance. I tell her that I don’t need a haircut because I’ll be with her, and everyone will be looking at her, but she’s adamant that because I’m beside her, I must look pretty, so I will do so.
Yes, on the one hand, I’m being petty, complaining about being forced out to social engagements, truly a first world whine. On the other hand, going to these things is completely against my nature, and uncomfortable for me because I’m socially awkward. Yeah, that’s my problem.
Today’s music starts with making the cats’ brekkie. I’m cleaning bowls when The Neurons remind me of the movie, Twins, with Arnold Schwartzenegger and Danny DeVito as the starring twins. From there, The Neurons poured the airplane scene where Arnold’s character has left his island home and is off to find his twin. Exposed for the first time to rock and roll, he’s listening on headphones and singing, “Yakey Yak” out loud, disturbing/slash amusing the other passengers. Now that’s song in my morning mental music stream (Trademark cyclical).
The song by the Coasters came out a few years after I was born in the late 1950s. I guess I heard it on the car radio, and the melody, lyrics, and voices appealed to me, because those words are seared in my mind. Some of them were used by Mom, “Don’t you give me a dirty look,” or variations such as, “Don’t give me that look.” She also liked to sing the song to me when I went to her with a request sometimes, depending on her mood.
Lean forward, be positive, and stay strong. Happy holidays. Just had my Saturday morning coffee. Here’s the music. I’m off to get a haircut. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 