Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Feeling a hungim, I went out and picked up breakfasts burritos — egg, cheese, and potatoes — from our local Market of Choice. A ‘hungim’ is a ‘hungry whim’ for the uninformed.
I’m just trying to keep the language moving forward, or movfor, if you will. Hey, come on, how do you think they emerged with words like ‘yesterday’ in the past?
Now I’m back to drinking my blafee. Yes, black coffee. Cheers
Mood: Coffeeoregonized
Rain imitated young Shirley Temple and tap danced on the house throughout the night. Now a brooding sky muses, will I let go with more rain? It’s a warmish 46 F outside with a slender promise to touch 50 F in Ashlandia on this Tuesday, December 17, 2024.
Today’s theme music comes from an Australian TV series I’m watching called “Upper Middle Bogan”. Patrick Brammal, Robyn Malcom, and Glenn Robbins, people I enjoyed in other shows, are among the stars. The episode watched last night featured a song, “Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again” by the Angels. I enjoyed it so I hunted for more about the song. So, that’s my theme music today. Although a ballad version was played in the episode, the song was re-released as a solid rocker. That’s what I’m featuring. Hope you enjoy it.
Just a reminder as public analysis is done over the latest school shooting. The GOP always blames mental health issues and then votes against increasing funding to address mental health issues. They instead offer thoughts and prayers. Actions speak much louder than thoughts and prayers, though. It seems like, given their lack of action, that the GOP is actually okay with people killing one another with guns, even if it is a fifteen-year-old child doing the killing. What other conclusion can be drawn from their lack of action. After all, look how fast and intensely they act out against trans and gays?
I’ve orally ingested a few solid gulps of deep, rich, hot, dark coffee, and I’m brimming with energy. Here’s the music. And away we go. Cheers
Mood: coffeelifted
We’ve punched into Sa’day, 12/14/24. The line for Ashlandia’s day is 41/46/36, meaning current-high-low. But my system’s reading informs me it’s 39 in our cut of existence. Rain is falling. It commenced yesterday and didn’t let up. Hungry gray clouds have descended, eating off the mountain and tree tops like a parent going after their kids’ holiday chocolate.
Wising up to the weather, Papi is demonstrating a willingness to be flexible about going in and out, doing less of that, opting into remaining in warm, dry shelter, i.e., le house. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) shows little interest in answering the question, “What’s the weather like out there?” He’s more inclined toward floofosphical questions like, “What’s in that bowl? What are you eating? Can I have some? Why aren’t you giving me any?” He asks these questions with bright-eyed optimism and rapt adoration. You know how it usually ends.
Went to a gospel holiday concert last night. Ashlandia’s Rogue Valley Symphony collaborated with with the Oregon Shakespeare Festival to put on a concert at the Bowmar Theater. The Florida State University Gospel Choir and their three-piece travelin’ combo — bass, drums, keyboards — were invited in, along with a soloist named Marques Jerrell Ruff. By happenstance, I ended up seated by the night’s sponsor, the guy who gave them the upfront funds to make this happen. He’s done a lot of good philanthropy work in our small town. For instance, if you ever visit Ashlanda and visit the plaza, you can check out the mural of our sister city that he and his wife commissioned. It was pleasant chatting with him about his good deeds and some mutual friends we admire.
Portion of the Guanajuato mural in Ashland, Oregon.
The concert was uplifting and fun. I definitely recommend it. Mr. Ruff and the FSU Choir are amazing singers and awesome entertainers.
It’s been a busy week and it ain’t over. Tonight is the annual Swedish Smörgåsbord at a friend’s house. Tomorrow is the Santa Claus brunch at Callahan’s on Mount Ashland. My ankle is handling most of this well, although I do reach a point toward the end where I’m ready to rip off my shoe and sock and elevate that puppy. Haven’t done that yet, despite the temptation, principally because my wife would kill me if I did.
Jill Dennison inspired The Neurons for today’s music choice. Jill is a prolific, intelligent, and insightful blogger. I admire her thinking and principles, and we frequently exchange comments. She apologized for her mood in one recent post. The Neurons responded by placing Nirvana singing “All Apologies” from 1993 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark buried). So, here’s to you, Jill.
I met coffee on a blind date in the kitchen this morning. Now I’m singing its praises. Hope your day is as excellent as circumstances allow. Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: temperate
It’s another Friday. This one is December 13, 2024, which triggers some, especially if they’re Knights Templars. But I’m not one and I’m not bothered by the date. Except, there’s less than two weeks until Christmas, if that’s your celebrating avenue. More importantly, the end is near — the end of the year, that is.
Today’s white blob of a sky blends in over the mountain and tree tops, fuzzying our edges and spitting on the eastern windows. Temperature is 42 F and as with yesterday, we’re just four degrees of separation from our high. Unlike yesterday, which morphed into a pleasant autumn day with wintry overtones, a brisk wind is moaning the blues, prompting a high-wind advisory.
Papi the ginger blade despairs of this wind. He beat at the door as soon as it rose. Fattened by brekkie and at least floofmentarily aware of the wind, he’s stretched out in the living room, a pretty orange and white furry binkie.
Several politically-connected matters caught my eye. One, Andy Borowitz put his humorous spin on Hegseth as Drumpf’s nominee to head Defense: “Hegseth Offers to Connect Breathalyzer to Nuclear Arsenal”. Feels hysterically funny because there’s too much truth in it. The second item was one pointed out by on Scottie’s Playground: Study: Republicans Respond to Political Polarization by Spreading Misinformation, Democrats Don’t. Some of us reacted, yes, and water tends to be wet. To see it hardwired as actual study results is satisfying because it underscores our observations that the modern American right wing can’t handle the truth and make shit up.
Finally, also out of Scottie’s Playground, is a tale of Not Good News in Florida. “Earlier this fall, Florida officials ordered transgender women in the state’s prisons to submit to breast exams. As part of a new policy for people with gender dysphoria, prison medical staff ranked the women’s breast size using a scale designed for adolescents. Those whose breasts were deemed big enough were allowed to keep their bras. Everyone else had to surrender theirs, along with anything else considered “female,” such as women’s underwear and toiletry items.”
Yes, we know that besides making shit up when they feel threatened, American Republicans tend to become crueler and treat others who aren’t like them with greater contempt and inhumanity. They’re such a misguided, fact-aversion, hate-filled, group of lying fantasists. If we had greater involvement and better critical thinking from more voting-age Americans, we wouldn’t be in this mess. But a large swath of indifference and lethargy has given power to fools, and all of us will suffer.
I have a weird song in the morning mental music stream (Trademark dated). “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter” originally came out in 1935, twenty-one years before my birth. It’s literally been around all my life and then some. The Neurons inserted it into the mmms after a dream in which I wrote myself a letter and then mailed it. A busy dream night, all I remember of that dream is that I as a young teen wrote myself a letter and posted it on a sunny day. Then this song begun. It’s been covered by two and a half gazillion performers. I have females and males singing it in the mmms because this was one of those songs Mom often played on her stereo hi-fi, and she sang along to it. I just surfed the net for a version which I like. Hope you know the song and like it. So here’s the late Jeff Healey with his cover. Jeff Healey and his band were in the movie Road House staring Patrick Swayze, Sam Elliott, Kelly Lynch, and Ben Gazzara in 1989.
Rain is spitting on the western windows now, and the wind’s mutterings have turned louder, angrier, and more prolonged. Coffee and I have made our daily agreement. Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: Satisthursday
Recalibrating…recalibrating…recalibrating day…date…time…weather.
All systems indicate with uniform agreement, this is Thursday, December 12, 2024, as expected.
What to expect from the weather is something else. The winds have abated. Rain heralded the morning hours. But the off-white canvas that stretched overhead from valley end to end at dawn is shredding and tearing. Blue sky and sunshine are poking through. As the cloud cover shreds, the curls turn dark and mean looking. A few coalesce into hulking, brooding bodies…but they sail on, leaving my field of vision.
It’s 41 F out, just four small degrees of separation from the projected high. It will be some variation of a late fall, early winter day. Details are still collecting.
Just saw a headline announcing that Meta — Facebook’s overlord — donated $1,000,000 to Trump’s inauguration fund. They didn’t contribute to President Biden nor Trump’s first inauguration campaign. This confirms the slide I’ve witnessed in my perspective of their ‘community standards’ enforcement. There’s a nasty authoritarian, fascist stench coming from that site. It’s also getting more sucky in its content, with ads and clickbait becoming its overwhelming offerings.
Saw my surgeon in a post-op follow up regarding my ankle surgery yesterday. He lifted movement and activity restrictions off me. Yes, some swelling is still evident, and yeah, edema swelling has caused some complication, but the general trend is going up. I’ll take that.
Heavy mental fog surrounds the morning mental music stream’s current occupant. “The Man Who Sold the World” is a David Bowie composition. Came out in 1970. The song resides on several Bowie albums in my music collection. The cover in my head was done by Kurt Cobain and Nirvana, and was released in 1995. In both, the enigmatic words are influenced by Bowie and Cobain’s vocal deliveries. Always gives me pause to consider what’s being said and fuels a search for meaning. Can’t say I always achieve that. As to why it’s in today’s mmms (Trademark sold), it might be just a general response running through my mind that so much of the world is simply selling out, so the Neurons countered with music about not selling out.
Side thought that comes with writing about Cobain and Bowie that it’s dissatisfying that both passed away. But the duality of life remains: they had great gifts and shared them with us. Of course, the full stop finish to the reflection is, this is life. We live and die. The difference is made in the gap between the beginning and end.
Let’s get positive and move through this winter of disappointment and on to a brighter spring. Coffee has planted its energy seeds in me. Time to move it, move it, move it. Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: springtimistic
Welcome to Windsday, December 11, 2024. We’re calling it Windsday here in Ashlandia as the wind is calling the moves and has the trees square-dancing under a white slab of sky. Currently, the thermometer sits at 42 F and the thermostat rests at 68 F. Today’s high will see the measuring one stab at the low fifties.
We descended on friends’ house for their birthday party last night. The couple have been married 45 years and share the same birthday. So, per their wishes, we arrived with pizza from their favorite place, a salad my wife provided, and a few pints of Talenti ice cream. Intelligent and engaging people a few clicks older than us, a good time was had. They have two young cats who are not permitted to be outside except in their backyard on a harness or in their catio. For some reason, the wife gave me two containers of Applaws sardine and mackarel catfood. I fed our floofs one of these this morning. Man, they licked the bowls clean and stumbled away, grinnin’ and lickin’. I think they liked it.
Our late purveyor of news, Ashland Daily Tidings, had a Frankenstein moment. The newspaper name and their old website were used to provide fake news to the world. Yes, because the world has a fake-news shortage, I suppose. No, whoever did it is just sucky people doing sucky things. I suppose the bottom line is that their life sucks and they want to spread the suck. Thus, I suspect that they are rightwingers. Modern rightwingers aren’t happy unless everyone conforms to their sucky version of being. Now that they’ve elected a sucky guy who will be a sucky prez, and is assembling a sucky administration, the suckiness will commence in January.
But, The Neurons said. The Neurons have “The Rose” playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sucky). “The Rose” was a 1979 hit for Bette Midler out of the movie called The Rose. The Neurons are riding the lines that go, “Just remember in the winter, beneath the bitter snow, lies the seed that with the sun’s love in the spring becomes the rose.” Good idea to rally around: with this sucky prezzidency falling over us, we’re going into winter. But we just must nurture those seeds of freedom, democracy, equality, and sanity, and help them bloom when the sucky winter is over.
Lean toward the sun. Be pos. Coffee and I have begun a new day of collaboration. Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: Cautiousmisticpensivity
Blue sky and sunshine prevail today, Tuesday, December 10, 2024. Weather system reading says that it’s 41 F outside. What? Really? I check other places and learn that Ashland’s temp is but 38 F. We’re higher than them, a December rarity. Let’s celebrate with coffee. A high of 51 F is promised to us but there’s also another dense fog advisory floating out there. At least the stagnant air issues have abated.
I’ve been recovering from my ruptued tendon surgery at home, donning shoes to go out more frequently, testing my ankle’s feel. Today, I’ll go to the coffee shop and write. Some pensiveness about it is dripping through me; I’m not certain why.
This morning’s song was given to me by The Neurons, of course. Right? They’re aways bringing me songs. They’re like cats bringing gifts in that way. While sometimes the songs emerge from dreams or memories, some are just word association. Such is today’s situation. I was thinking about how I was doing some things so automatically. Poof; The Neurons put “Automatic” into my morning mental music stream (Trademark freeze dried). This 1984 Pointer Sisters song is a classic offering from that bubbly techno era. I found this video. It gave me grins to see their outfits’ colors and the big shoulders and big hair. That was the time for these things.
Let’s get positive, find the right direction, and move our asses forward. Coffee has made its way through important recesses of my body. I’m now ready to rumble. Here’s the music, and away we go. Cheers
Mood: Soontobe
It’s Soonday, December 9, 2024. We’re enjoying a clear sky loaded with sunshine and an outdoor tempy of 28 F. Frost has shadowy places airbushed with white influences. A dense fog warning is percolating while 49 F is being dangled in front of us as a high. Should say that it’s my local system calling out 28; in other parts of Ashlandia, sunshine has cleared the forests and mountains and 42 is already being experienced. A friend’s weather setup, available via Wunderground, has his temperature at 31 F. Dress appropriately.
Moving slow this morning. That’s why I’m calling this soon day. Soon, I’ll get up and do things. Soon I’ll leave and get my hair cut. Soon. Night fraught with dreams and restlessness are keeping the go pedal from getting engaged, even though coffee and I have said our hellos. One dream featured me as a young man with young friends and relatives, traveling to another place. Along the way, I stopped to visit with others. There, I rested in sunshine and told people of other people’s businesses failing, along with places such as airports not being built. It ended with me trying to pull a nuisance weed, which then bloomed, leaped out of the ground and ran away, freaking us out. Then we laughed.
This cold weather and clear sky put me into a whirlpool of childhood memories. Once, while going outside to play football with friends when I was almost a teenager, I was accosted by mom. “Put a heavier coat on, for God’s sake,” she said. “It’s winter outside.”
Wise me replied, “It’s not winter yet, Mom, until the solstice, December 22.”
She answered, “It’s winter when it’s cold and the snow starts falling to me.”
We were living in Penn Hills, a Pittsburgh, PA, suburb. Snow had been falling since before Thanksgiving. Therefore, it was winter.
I used to talk to her about her winters in Iowa. She loved those days, she said, because they would stay in the house, where it was cozy and warm, and play games, listen to the radio, talk, cook, and clean. Winter remains her favorite season for those reasons.
Those memories crystallized into two songs for me last night. Both are called “Our House”. They’re very different. The first was dropped into the morning mental music stream (Trademark frozen) when a television show featured it ysterday evening. This is the “Our House” by Crosy, Stills, Nash, and Young. My wife sang along with it; that stirred The Neurons up, and triggered that memory whirlpool. But a rebel group of Neurons countered with “Our House” by Madness. Two very different songs. The CSNY offering says, “Our house is a very very fine house. With two cats in the yard. Life used to be so hard. Now everything is easy cause of you.” Madness sings, “Father wears his Sunday best, Mother’s tired, she needs a rest, the kids are playing up downstairs. Sister’s sighing in her sleep. Brother’s got a date to keep, he can’t hang around.” The CSNY version is about a young couple’s domestic tranquility. Madness offers a portrait of hustle, growth, and noise.
Let’s get positive (sung to Olivia Newton-John’s “Let’s Get Physical) and move forward. 2025 is almost here. Here’s the music to help you along. Cheers
Mood: Futuremistic
Looks like we a bit’o Procol Harum with “Whiter Shade of Pale” taking over the autner sky. 36 F. Fog is reported. High of 51 F prophecized. Seems doable, as we hit 52 F yesterday. Do still have a stagnant air advisory camping on us. That gives us a broad range of air quality around town. Green and acceptable at lower elevations but yellow and a risk to people with respiratory issues as you go higher.
I admit to not reading the news yet today. I’ve been dealing with emails and texts from friends and families instead. Most of those fell under quake concerns or holiday plans. Sofar as the quake, we good here in Ashlandia. I did a brief scan for damage reports and saw nothing, knock on wood.
The cats are enjoying the milder weather. Both head out in search of early sun and hang around the backyard as birds visit. Good seeing them out there lounging, washing, and birding. These two are not mighty hunters. At least, they’ve never rewarded us with a trophy. They prefer kibble and wet food, and live and let live cause the alternative is too taxing.
My Neurons have a Boston song out of 1978 in my morning mental music stream (Trademark fluttering). “Don’t Look Back” was a dream admonishment. It was natural that the song filled my stream as I went through the dream review. 2024 was a meh year for me. Health issues, frustrations, and the elections results all subtracted from whatever advances I made. I won’t bore with details. Dream advice came like something out of Field of Dreams, “Don’t look back.” The woke gist concluded, created a vision and move forward. And while it sounds like it may have come out of left field, it was the culmination of several days of ruminating. I take it as solid advice: stop looking back. Move forward.
Part of the ruminations on the elections front came from a NYT piece about how Trump won. Their strategist went after the deeply undecided, not paying attention voters residing in streaming land. In my paraphrasing of what I read, while the Dems went traditional with big television buys, the GOP realized that there were large masses of folks on streaming platforms who wouldn’t see the TV ads. They, especially the young, became their target.
Looking ahead, I thought, that was clever. We — the Dems, Progressives, and Liberals — should embrace that as a counter approach to what Trump’s administration is plotting. Put it onto the streaming platforms about their plans. Be specific, repetitive, and detailed about what it means to the economy, inflation, and tax revenues if the mass deportations are allowed. Share personal anecdotes of how people are affected. Get graphic and real about what happens if Headstart and the Dept of Education are killed. Be real and give them the pointed end of climate change facts and its impact on health, safety, and the economy.
Teach them some real history. IMO, teaching to the test, the education system has been weak inculcating critical thinking among students. We need to close that gap. We need to that Republicans aren’t good for the economy. That tariffs will not save them money. Feed them information in the way that it was done via Schoolhouse Rock! style done in the latter half of the last century. As the Republicans said about President Obama’s agenda, “Obstruct, obstruct, obstruct.” We must do the same, but we also need to shift us from leaning red as a nation to deep blue.
So, I’m focusing my efforts on looking forward and moving forward. I’ll limit looking back in regret or anger, and shift to visualizing success. Hope you can do the same.
Coffee and I have done our morning meet. Time to rock on. Here’s the music.
Cheers
Mood: Decemberspect
It’s December 5, 2024. Thursday. Someone has taken a roller brush and painted the sky with thin smoky gray and white. It’s poor mixing, with tendrils of the gray sometimes thickened into a rich vein. Patching blue shows through. I take an eastern blister of white as the sun.
Morose is the word for that scene. It’s 38 F locally, 40 to 42 in other town zones. We’ll see high temperatures in the low to mid fifties.
First, happy birthday to my little sister. Point of order, she is a grandmother. Mom’s life disrupted sis’s life but sis survived and reformed herself as an intelligent, caring, forthright individual. She’s a strong person and I admire her for so many facets of who she is.
I read Jan Ressenger’s post, “Trump’s Threatened Immigration Deportations Would Traumatize Students and Disrupt Public Schools”, this morning. She writes about the impact on children and school systems, and how school systems step up to help their studencts embroiled in the mess. As one superintendent summarized it, ‘We went into kind of a Mom and Dad mode and just cared for kids.’
Our fear-based right wing so disappoints me. Many of our right-wingers profess to be good Christians. Naturally, I ponder what our nation’s founders would think of the right wing’s myopic attacks on immigrants. Yes, what would Jesus do? Ho, ho, ho, merry Christmas. The right wing is slowly emerging as a darkly evil and inhumane force.
Away from that. WhenI looked out and spied the mostly white sky, the morning mental music stream (Trademark seceded) churned with “White Wedding” by Billy Idol. The Neurons thought, white, and went with it.
Get positive, be strong, have coffee. Coffee and I just renewed our vows once again. Keeps our relationship fresh. Here’s the music.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 