Coffee and Dreams
I awoke at about half past darkness with a dream in mind. Realized that I was writing in my dream.
I went over what I’d written. Considered rising to capture it. Decided not to. Resumed sleep.
Awoke in the morning. Went through dreams while doing light exercising and stretching. Daily ritual. The cats assumed the position. Stared fixedly with misery. Tucker seized a more active approach. Moved over and sat on my foot. Looked up at me. Eyes big. Waiting. Expectant. Give a little, “Mello,” in a friendly baritone.
Done with exercising, feeding cats was necessary before starvation took them. We went down the hall, they with eager anticipation, me with resignation. Cleaned out bowls — “You never even finished what I fed you last night” — opened a can. Doled out the wet food. Refilled the kibble stations. Cleaned and filled the water stations.
Coffee was brewed. Before it finished, I was back with the dream writing stuff. Headed to the computer. Wrote for an hour. Surprising how fresh and clear it had remained. Got up when my Fitbit reminded me that it was time to move. Remembered my coffee. Now cold. Drank some anyway. My taste buds immediately sent notices that this was unacceptable. I nuked the coffee hot. The taste buds were appalled.
Writing in my head was still happening. Hadn’t eaten yet but the muses were strong. So, despite the stomach’s increasingly vocal demands, I made fresh coffee and returned to the keyboard. Got back into the rhythm.
Half the coffee remains. It’s almost cold. Mug radiates an ant watt of warmth. Taste buds are not overly pleased with the dark fluid’s progress over their realm.
But it all works. Coffee and dreams. At least, today. Time to eat, according to my stomach. Get some real coffee, too, the taste buds request. Something hot and dark, please.
Monday’s Theme Music
Greetings! Happy Labor Day in America! This is a holiday in the U.S. It’s one of the three-day weekend holidays. This was Congress’ gift to the country — particularly the travel industry — in 1968 as part of the Uniform Monday Holiday Act.
It’s September 6, 2021. Monday, of course. We’re not doing anything special for the holiday. Wildfire smoke and COVID-19 (and the current Delta variation that’s so virulent here in southern Oregon right now) have muted it for us. Might be different if we had family close to us.
Sunrise arrived at 6:41 AM. Sunset, when the Earth turns away from the sun, will come at 7:36 PM. And I think I need to go back and fix an assertion I made on a previous post that we’ve gone below twelve hours of daylight per day. Blame it on a lack of coffee. Or a lack of cogent thinking. Or poor math skills. Temperatures continue to rise but we’re not hitting crazy levels, topping out in the low nineties. AQI for this morning is 163, Unhealthy. We haven’t had a day rated as Moderate since August 25. They’ve all been unhealthy or extremely unhealthy since then, a fact known in many areas out here in the U.S. western states.
Rickie Lee Reynolds died. 72 years old. Heart attack. He was the Black Oak Arkansas guitarist. Black Oak Arkansas was a southern rock band with some glam influences in their stage performances. They came out with a cover of “Jim Dandy” in 1973, while I was a high school junior. Weirdly, I’d encounter this song often on diner and NCO Club jukeboxes for many years. And I’d play it. Which exasperated my wife. She doesn’t like the song. But it’s a throwback, innit?
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, avoid crazy cures like ivermectin, and get vaccinated. Have a enjoyable Labor Day, if that applies to you. Gotta get my coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers
Saturday’s Theme Music
Welcome to Saturday, September 4, 2021. Here in Ashland, smoke veils a cloudy spread. We’ll probably see 80 F in our area. The sun arose at 6:39 AM. Pearlescent hues on the cats and walls. Sun fade will be at 7:40 PM. The window of daily sunshine is closing.
After a week of noisy news, my soul seems spent. People are enduring some hard times in the U.S. from coast to coast, Canada to Mexico. Fires and flooding, hurricanes and tornados. Lies and more lies. And, yeah, COVID-19. People who otherwise fasten their seat belts, go through security with shoes off, without water, passing through metal detectors, who otherwise agree that public safety and security are important now can’t wear a mask. Others remain vaccine hesitant. They have their reasons, we’re told, and shouldn’t be mean to them. Meanwhile, others still find time to be racist and cruel. Murders and abuse continue.
I sort of chuckle, though. I’m reading HIlary Mantel. The Mirror and the Light. About Thomas Cromwell and that period. England. Henry VIII. Anne Bolyn’s beheading. Henry’s other wives. Conflict with the Pope. Empires and kingdoms. Dukes and ladies. The church and the state. Wars. Among it all, the poor, the starving, the diseased. We are better off now. I think where my disappointment builds is that we could be so much better. We should be so much better. Guess I watched too much Star Trek as a child.
Muse filled my mental music stream with “Uprising” from 2009. Specific lyrics.
Another promise, another seed
Another packaged lie to keep us trapped in greed
And all the green belts wrapped around our minds
And endless red tape to keep the truth confined
(So come on)
[Chorus]
They will not force us
They will stop degrading us
They will not control us
We will be victorious
h/t to Genius.com
Anyway. Test negative. Stay positive. Wear a mask as needed. Get the vax. Please. Here’s the music. Enjoy your day. I’m gonna enjoy my coffee. Cheers
Thursday’s Theme Music
September flourishes. Not. Yet, maybe. I feel like a pet chasing the little red dot as I pursue time and life. Damn if it isn’t quite elusive.
Today is Thursday, September 2, 2021. Sunshine began its warming, illuminating trend, red, gold, and orange through thin gray smoke, at 6:37 AM. The sun’s flight away, if like yesterday, will be a dirty peach at around 7:43 PM. The cooling trend given us by the seasons changing continues. High yesterday was only seventy-nine in my niche of existence. Today should be just 80 F. The cooler weather brings the cats in. That pleases me. I don’t like them being in the smoke. They have their own minds about where they go and what they do, though. They know how to floofnipulate me.
I’m reading of a number of disasters this morning. Flooding. Ida. New abortion law in Texas. SCOTUS ruling on it. Caldor Fire. Other wildfires. Smoke pollution. Tornados. COVID-19 deaths. Just the U.S. news so far. Well, it includes accusations about Afghanistan. Yes, we’re leaving a screwed up country after twenty years of war, many lives, and a huge chunk of money. Somehow, though, that becomes Biden’s fault. I mean, he has been in office for almost eight months. Eight months out of two hundred and forty, give or take. Yes, I see the reasoning.
Anyway, I end up with “Wasteland” by 10 Years (2005) in my morning mental music streaming. It’s a song about intentions. Inspired by someone dealing with drug addiction. We could easily make the case that the U.S. — even the world — is dealing with addiction. Addictions to greed. Money. Power. War. Addictions twist and malign intentions. Inculcate bad habits, policies, and practices. Bad results follow.
Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask. Get the vax. Unless your addictions to death, suffering, and hatred stop you. Here’s the music. Gonna go get some coffee. Don’t call it an addiction, though. Just a friendly relationship. Cheers
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Adieu to August. Hello, September! So many September songs dive straight into the mental music stream. Amazing.
Yes, this is September 1, 2021. 9/1/21. Wednesday. Hump Day. Some interesting holidays are observed on this date.
- Building and Code Staff Appreciation Day
- Chicken Boy Day
- Emma M. Nutt Day
- Ginger Cat Appreciation Day
- Global Talent Acquisition Day – September 1, 2021 (First Wednesday in September)
- National Cherry Popover Day
- National No Rhyme Nor Reason Day
- National Tofu Day (UK)
- Pink Cadillac Day
- Save Japan’s Dolphins Day
- Toy Tips Executive Toy Test Day
- World Letter Writing Day
Each one has a story. Like Chicken Boy Day. How did that get started? Ginger Cat Appreciation Day. I do have a ginger cat. Papi, aka Meep, aka Youngblood and the Ginger Blade. I will show him my appreciation. It’s not a choice. He demands it. I willingly surrender.
Sunrise overtook us at 6:36 AM. Sun fade will be at 7:43 PM. Our smoke is back and blah, blah, blah, it sucks. High temperatures will be in the low 80s so a cooler day again, if only we had the air to go out and safely breathe.
The musical mental stream kicked things off this morning with Doris Day singing “Sentimental Journey”. Listened to Bob Dylan’s cover of it. It’s just too mellow for me this September AM, ya know? I wanted something head thrashing. My mind responded with, stop wasting my time. Words which naturally flowed into the song by Default, “Wasting My Time” (2001). No, not head thrashing, but it’ll do. (Did anyone else channel a little of Babe there, and say, “That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.”? No? Hmmm.)
Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask as needed, like when it’s smoky as hell or you’re in contact with others outside of your house, like in a store. Get the vax. And be safe. Here’s the music. I’m gonna go get more coffee. Cheers
Slippage
- Slippage in my personal use is about losing track. Time. Lists. Progress.
- Slippage is heavy when I’m writing. Clocks disappear from my LOS when I don the writing hat. I’m in that other world. Following characters. Contact tracing cause and effect. Studying dialogue. Typing, typing, typing, typing. Surprise overcomes me when I discover that I’ve been at it for an hour or two. My ass is sore. Numb. Coffee gone or cold. I’m hungry. Writing usurps everything. I feel satisfied when I’m done. And starving to do more. But other matters call.
- Because I have lists. Tasks. Chores. Necessary Actions for Modern Life. Balancing accounts. Paying bills. Buying food. Cleaning litter boxes. Talking to people. Socializing. It’s all so draining. Give me the damn keyboard and leave me alone.
- I tend to avoid writing long posts for these reasons. Keep it short and simple. Use energy for longer stuff for my writing projects.
- I feel like I’m suffering from low energy. Might have to do with the smoky situation outside. I peer outside the window and catch the sunshine and blue sky and become happy. Look forward to a walk. An hour later, the smoke has closed its tentacles on the street. Blizzard-like visibility develops. Step outside. Smell the stench. Feel the nostrils sting. The sinus headache begins. Eyes dry out. Energy fizzles. Spirit implodes.
- Could also have to do with COVID-19. We — our county — is one of the nation’s hotspots. As prominent anti-vaxxers and mask deniers sicken and die with COVID-19, my county’s citizens continue protesting. Masks are not effective, they claim. COVID-19 is not serious in their estimation. The vaccine can’t be trusted. These positions make going to the stores or anywhere else a daunting effort. We mask. Others don’t. Stores don’t enforce masks. They know they’re impotent against the unmasks’ illogical, contrarian positions. Wearying is an understatement.
- Beyond writing, struggling to do the things expected to keep the house and body clean and neat, and the modern demands of being responsible, I spend time reading. Finished Klara and the Sun (Kazuo Ishiguro) last week. I really enjoyed it. Loved the simplicity. The straightforward minimalism. Handed it off to my wife. She took it up and gave me the book she’d finished: The Mirror & The Light (Hilary Mantel). The styles between the books are so different. As are the stories being told. One is futuristic, science fiction. The other is historical fiction. Each are greatly entertaining. My wife wasn’t as fond of Klara as I was. Too much minimalism for her.
- Reading The Mirror & The Light keeps calling me back to C.J. Sansom and his Mathew Shardlake series. Not surprising in retrospect. Both cover the same English period from similar points of view. In many ways, it’s just like picking up two books of any other genre and reading and comparing them. Of course, that’s one reason why I like Lincoln in the Bardo so much or The Underground Railroad. Hard to find books that compare favorably with them. Likewise, how Louise Erdrich is able to tell stories with elegant prose and yet be gritty always amazes me. For crazy story-telling along the lines of ‘look-what-you-can-get-away-with’, I look to Lincoln & Childs and their Pendergast series.
- I’m also an information junkie. We subscribe to the NY Times and several other online periodicals. I must always be aware of time while pursuing information. It isn’t enough to just read their articles; no, I must find other opinions and sources to vet what’s being put out there. Then, of course, there are a dozen bloggers who I enjoy following. Always must track them and their latest.
- I have three cats. All ‘rescues’ or strays. Came to me for a visit and stayed for a life. Tried finding their people. In one case, Papi (our ginger tabby), we knew who the owners were. They left him behind when they moved. Deliberately. Cocksuckers.
- Boo, though, is problematic. Don’t know what went on in his past but it left mental and emotional scarring. Arthritis affects him. PTSD, too. Anything new – smell, sound, visitors, anything – sends him into a frenzy. He snarls and hisses at our other cats. His coat is matted. Embarrassing. Sure it’s not comfortable nor healthy for him. But we’ve only reached the point that he can be petted without hissing or snapping at us. Slowly introducing him to a brush. S-L-O-W-L-Y. Yet, he seeks me out. Sleeps against me. Comes to me for attention and food. Sleeps at my feet when I’m at my desk writing.
- TC — Tucker Cat — meanwhile has matured wonderfully. Went from battling with Boo to gracefully indulging his needs. Walks around him without disturbing him. He, too, sleeps with me. Loves it when I sit down to read. Is beside my laptop now as I type. Where he frequently is during the day.
- On my list of things to do is call my parents. They are divorced. Dad is remarried. Mom has a live-in fiancé . One lives in Pennsylvania. The other is in Texas. Both are retired with health issues. I worry about them constantly. They take appropriate precautions but still. You know, right? Yeah, you get it.
- My wife’s health also worries me. She’s suffered from RA for over twenty years. Wasn’t originally diagnosed, of course. No, that required over a decade of treatments, blood tests, imaging, and doctor visits. She loves exercising and dancing. She’s suffering a flare that’s truncated her ability to do those things. It also gives her foggy brain. She struggles to remember. Spell. Abstract concepts give her problems. So dismaying watching her decline. She’s more social than me. Since she can’t go out per usual (RA, smoke, COVID-19), I’m her conversation partner. I’m not particularly interested in socializing and conversing. Particularly when I’m writing. She’s become fond of Reddit streams such as Am I the Asshole and Facepalm. Feels compelled to share them with me. She’s also almost obsessive about local COVID-19 news and trends and must share them as well.
- Circumstances have curtailed my walking routines. Had a long streak of averaging 11.3 miles per day. I woas driving toward twelve. Then COVID. Then, smoke. I sometimes mask and go for a walk but always preferred walking when I had concrete destinations. Coffee shops to write was my standard. I do miss those days. My average has declined to nine miles per day. Most of it is running in place in the house, which just is not as entertaining.
- Enough of a break. Time to return to writing like crazy. But first, another cup of coffee, please. Black, of course. Cheers
Sunday’s Theme Music
Sunday arrived like a Monday morning, on time and as expected. Cool and smoky.
Today is August 29, 2021. This is it. If you vowed to do things during August — clean cupboards, fly to the moon, bake a cake for a friend, write a novel — you better find the go button.
Sunrise settled its glowing blanket over our dried out brown and green valley at 6:33 AM. Sunset will be 7:49 PM. Our high temperature will be in the mid nineties.
We have a few warnings for you today for Jackson County, Oregon, including Ashland. Excessive heat warning, so don’t go outside. COVID-19 is still raging out here, climbing to levels that bring the national news services to the area to write stories about how bad it is in hospitals, so don’t go anywhere without your mask. Also, the air is rated unhealthy to extremely unhealthy so don’t go outside unless you must. Masking is suggested. Also, don’t exert yourself too much while you’re out there. A red flag warning has been issued for fires, so you know, be careful and don’t use power tools outside. Finally, there’s a drought still underway, so don’t waste water. Other than these stipulations and limitations, feel free to go nuts.
My mind started the morning with pieces of dreams. Most of them evaporated, leaving me to look at fragments and wonder what was going on there, sort of like we do when ancient ruins or old family photographs are found. Then, I thought about “Friends”. Have you heard about this? It was a television show about a gang of people – a brother and sister, and, well, their friends and room mates, and work and relationship entanglements presented in a humorous way. I believe it’s called a ‘sitcom’. On NBC in the states for a while. It’s also been on reruns sometimes after it went out of production. Anyway, I was thinking about the friends’ parents. Liked how the parents were written into their lives and relationships, and the actors who played the parents, but I was thinking mostly about Chandler’s father, played by Kathleen Turner.
Whew. Got that out of my system. I then checked out the landscape, thought about the situation, and concluded, Jesus, get me out of here. That prompted the Gospel song turned rock hit, “Jesus Is Just Alright” to kick off in the morning’s mental music stream. After re-acquainting myself with the DC Talk version and the Byrd’s version, I went back to the Doobie Brothers and pulled a recording of a live version off the net. The song doesn’t have many words. You can learn them quickly, I think. So feel free to sing along.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as necessary, get the vax, and be careful out there. Here’s the music. You listen while I go get my starter fluid, aka, coffee. Also need to turn on the air purifier because it smells like smoke in here. Cheers
Saturday’s Theme Music
Powerful sunshine kicked in the day. I blinked against the golden warmth. “Sol. What time is it?”
“Time to raise your derriere from the dead.”
“Seriously, time.”
“Time to rise and — “
“Sol, it’s too early.”
“6:32 AM.” Sol sat, flipping rays back from his face. “It’s also Saturday, August 28, 2021, if that matters to you, the last Saturday in August.” Sol sighed. “September is next week, you know. Soon, I’ll be a wintry sun, mourning the cold land from a sad distance.”
“Not everywhere. Just up in the northern climes.”
“True.” Sol sniffed. “An advantage of being omnipresent. I’m always somewhere. Got any coffee?”
“I’ll make some.”
My slumber ended, I peed first, then shuffled into the kitchen. Cats greeted me, falling into step. The necessary feeding detour was executed. “How long are you here today, Sol?” I asked the sun as he joined me in the kitchen.
“Until 7:52 in the evening, thereabouts.” Sol perched himself on the counter. “And I’m in a hot mood. Think it’ll be ninety-five to a hundred today.”
“Ouch.”
Sol watched the coffee making. “Make it strong. I like it strong.”
“Of course.”
“I am the sun, you know.”
“Right, right, got that.”
Sol and I began channeling David Bowie music, falling back into some of his early seventies stuff as coffee brewed, basically working through a compilation album with “Diamond Dogs”, “Rebel, Rebel”, “Space Oddity”, “Changes”, and “Suffragette City”. By the time we finished our first cuppa, we were belting out “The Jean Genie”. Sol and I agreed that should be today’s theme music.
As Sol told me, stay positive — “Like me, I’m always sunny, hah!” — test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 