Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
She entered with a confident stride, scoped the coffee shop and selected a seat. Little was special about her: about five two or three, slender build, upper twenties for age, disheveled crown of golden curls, average clothing. But those shoes, those bright mango-colored running shoes.
You can write a lot of stories about a woman in mango shoes.
Mood: Exblueberant
Blue, blue, blue.
Today is January 23, 2024, and Tuesday. I awoke to a rich blue sky and booming morning sun. First time I’ve seen a rosy sunrise this year. The temperature was 39 F then but it’s already climbed to 52 F. Word is, 66 F might be reached. Super.
Tucker and I saw a hummingbird flitting around our bushes this morning when we went out onto the front porch. While I enjoy this stimulating clear, warm, weather, we need the snow on the mountains to survive the summer, so come on, nature. Give us snow in the mountains. Snow could become possible, my optimistic Neurons declared. Clouds are expected to steal in, and in fact can now be seen creeping over the southern mountains. So, rain can come, and cold temperatures can return, and snow can fall. Tick, tick, we’ll see.
Three pieces of political news struck me today. (Don’t worry, it wasn’t hard and didn’t bruise.) First up, Jamell Bouie’s simple observation in his NYTimes column.
DeSantis also refused to contest Trump’s election denialism, a choice that almost guaranteed his failure in the primaries. Can you seriously position yourself as a winner and Trump as a loser when the consensus of the voters you are seeking to win is that Trump didn’t lose?
So real; why do Republicans believe anything can change so long as they support Trump’s Big Lie? No evidence has been presented; it is simply his bombastic declaration it is so, and a legion of sycophants saying, “Yep, yep, yep, it’s true.” So bizarre, they are in that party, and getting more so.
Next, we had Rep. Pete Stauber (R). The government is financing a bridge to replace the Blatnick Bridge. Rep Stauber is crowing with pride for the bridge, these monies, and this plan, even though he voted against it. This is a common GOP tactic, and he got called out for his duplicity by many folk. Whether it’ll keep him from being re-elected is another matter; many voters have limited vision when it comes to their guy.
Finally, in this trifecta of info, the Doomsday Clock has been updated for 2024 and it’s still ninety seconds to midnight, the closest to midnight that it’s been since it was begun in June of 1947. The thinkers behind it point to threats posed by AI, climate change, and potential nuclear war. Don’t worry, though; we’re an intelligent, sophisticated species and are capable of thinking through these problems, arriving at effective solutions, and then implementing them. Yeah. Sure. (Yes, that is sarcasm.)
Enough of that stuff. To the music! I have the Rolling Stones’ song of 1966 in my morning mental music stream (Trademark doomed), “Mother’s Little Helper”. Reading and thinking about people’s health issues, I muttered something to myself about getting old. Les Neurons pounced. Although “Mother’s Little Helper” is about the drugs being prescribed to and abused by women in the 1960s, there’s a repeated line in the song, “What a drag it is getting old.” Yes, indeed, it can be a drag.
BTW, today marks the anniversary of the day in 1957 when the Pluto Platter inventor sold his product to Wham-o, who changed its name to Frisbee and began selling it.
Stay pos, be strong, lean way forward and vote for progress. My cells are already soaking in coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers
It’s a first for me. Today’s coffee shop crew is all male. I’ve seen all-female crews several times. As I wrote, this is a first. Wondered if it was planned, a response to females noting that there’s often all-female crews, or just happenstance of the schedule. I suspect the last one.
Overheard in the coffee shop: a team said they were working together.
“Yes,” one said. “We’re twerking.”
Groans and laughter all around.
Floofsicle (floofinition) – Animal who is very cold. Origins: early 2000s, worldwide web.
In Use: “One thing Marta learned early about Felix was that he didn’t like the cold, and would do anything to avoid becoming a floofsicle, from climbing under her bed covers to sleep against her at night, to trying to sit on top of the wood-burning stove, scaring her every time.”
Recent Use: “Severe cold weather often brings stories of floofsicles being saved by other animals or by people, such as the news article from 2019 telling about a black kitten rescued from freezing conditions, or the time a dog was found in freezing weather protecting orphaned kittens.”
Mood: bitsy
Hello, fellow citizens of the Sol system. We have landed on Sunday January 21, 2024.
It’s a little bit day; little bit sunny, windy, rainy, warm, cold. Should be a little bit ‘o rainbow out there somewhere.
Once again, I come to you after reading some news, and end up a little bit disappointed, saddened, surprised, disturbed, and shocked. Pretty typical, really. Flipping through radio channels as I went downtown to coffee shop #2, I heard a woman on the radio saying how much Trump is needed now. Cuz, she said, crime is up and the economy is down, and our border is just a mess, stating all these things as a given without offering any stats or evidence. Don’t know if I’d trust her stats and evidence, anyway, as I was a little bit suspicious of her, especially when she ended by telling us that God sent Trump to us. Rebut: God sent Biden to us. That’s why he won, right? Debate.
Today’s theme music is “All Mixed Up” by 311 from 1996. My ginger floof, Papi, inspired The Neurons to choose this song. Rain was falling and the sun was shining and the wind was blowing when I opened the back door and let Papi bounce outside, tail up and energetic. Wind smooching his face caused him to turn away like he was gonna come back in, but then he remembered that he was a wild beast, king of the outdoors, so he redirected his course toward the sunshine, only to retreat as rain showered him. Again he began a return to inside the house only to recall his wild vows, and changed directions to head across the patio where he sat, washed, and debated his options.
Watching all that, The Neurons kicked “All Mixed Up” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark a little bit). But it’s a good song selection for other reasons, like the world’s state vice expectations and attitudes: the song declares, “You’ve got to trust your instinct, and let go of regret. You’ve got to bet on yourself now, star, ’cause that’s your best bet.” I like that aspect as it’s directing me to look forward and trust myself.
Be strong, stay pos, lean forward and trust yourself. I’m havin’ a little bit more coffee now. Then I’ll go on with a little bit of editing and home chores. Here’s the music. Cheers
Omnifloof (floofinition) – An animal who seems to be everywhere. Origins: 1598, from Medieval Latin.
In Use: “Once escaped from their nursery, the kittens were omnifloofs, ambushing each other in the living room, cavorting down hallways, exploring the bathroom, but mostly, sizing up humans and inspecting what they were up to.”
Recent Use: “His cat had become an omnifloof. He’d see him sleeping in the living room, then enter the laundry room and find him chowing down kibble there, and then enter the bathroom and see him sitting on the rug. Instead of one cat, it felt like he had five, and they were everywhere!” From The Magic Floof.
Mood: sketchy
Ahoy, friends. Today is January 20, 2024.
I have a weather report fresh from outside. Papi, my orange boi, reports miserable conditions. Blowing winds, rain, and no sun or warmth at all breaking free of the fortress of bulging grey and white clouds. “Quite miserable,” he miserably said. I stroked his back and found the fur soaked and cold. Pulling out a towel, I dried him as he finished his commentary. “Dogs might enjoy it but no civilized floof would.” He gave me a glance. “I think you’ll need more of that extra fur you wear.”
It’s 42 and will be 53 F for the record. He’s spot on with the rest.
I haven’t read any news this morning, occupying my time with reading a novel instead. So I’m in a good mood, but sketchy because I need to dash away soon. Having experienced so much trouble this week finding a good writing perch at the coffee shops, I decided I need to leave the house earlier, forcing me to step up from coffee sipping speed to at least coffee gulping.
Today’s theme music is a 1992 song called “Connected” by Stereo MC’s. The Neurons dished some of the lyrics into the morning mental music stream (Trademark half-baked) when I was busy with the early morning rituals. “Gonna get myself connected. I see through you. I see through you. Your dirty tricks. You make me sick.” Then there’s that chorus: “If you make sure you’re connected, the writing’s on the wall. But if your mind’s neglected, stumble you might fall.”
Yeah, somehow that fits this year’s early feel. If you’re not paying attention, you can stumble and fall because there’s so much information pouring through our lives about who said and did what and the ramifications of this stone getting turned over, or that nuance of someone’s expression. Yikes. Gotta pay attention.
I don’t think I’ve heard this song in a while but back in 1990s, while scurrying about the SF Bay Area on shopping trips and work commutes, I heard it often. I like it’s rythm, beat, and lyrics. It’s an easy song to sing when you’re alone in a car or driving with someone who will put up with your singing, or even join in.
Be positive, stay strong, test negative, and keep leaning forward toward better times. We can get there if we don’t stumble and fall. That’s why I drink coffee; keeps me moving forward. Kind of. Sometimes it’s a sideways shuffle but it’s often forward, even if it’s just by millimeters. Here’s the music. Cheers
When Blackouts: A Novel by Justin Torres won the National Book Award for Fiction in 2023, I read a summary of the book and thought, oh, I want to read that. I went online to my library, put a hold on it, and learned that I was number sixteen. My wife then told me that she’d put a hold on it and was number seventeen.
Yesterday, I received a notice that the book was available for me. My wife, being nice, offered to pick it up when she was downtown. When I came home from my writing session, I asked her where it was.
“I’m reading it,” she replied. “But they told me that my copy is available, so you can go pick that up.”
Duped again.
Floofadverse (floofinition) – Persons or places who are unwelcoming to animals.
In Use: “Despite being public places designed to enjoy nature, parks are often floofadverse, without irony posting signs declaring that ‘no animals’ or ‘no dogs’ are allowed in the park.”
In Use: “One of the apartment building’s other inhabitants was hugely floofadverse, screaming that the tiny gray cat was the devil and on the verge of attacking her, even though the six-pound animal was six feet away and cowering from her screaming.”
Recent Use: “With the rise of service animals, many establishments in the U.S. are relaxing their floofadverse stances, although they frequently had to deal with health and safety regulations which prohibited animals.”
Michael Seidel, writer 