Category: Information

Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

It seems like the United States’ GOP is working hard to divide the nation. Through actions like dictating what pronouns and genders must be used, and what can be read and taught in schools, they’re narrowing the boundaries of freedom and undermining intellectual thought and creativity.

Once the Republicans were happy to merely oppose the Democrats. Now they oppose personal freedom and choice, forging deeper and sharper divides based on the formulation of ‘us’ and ‘them’, far from the Founders’ vision of ‘we, the People’. Congress under the GOP, and as en extension, the Federal government, is obstructed from governing as Republicans do all they can to stop anything and everything the Democrats attempt to do, treating everyone outside of the GOP’s narrowing scope as enemies. They demand compromise while offering none. Even Republicans who do not heel hard to the line, “Our way or no way,” are ostracized as enemies.

It is one thing to disagree and debate, and another to throw tantrums and hold parts of the government hostage. Holding the government hostage is the modern Republican way, whether it’s:

  • the US military (Senator Tuberville’s ongoing blocking of senior officer promotions until they make changes Tuberville wants);
  • the Federal budget (the GOP Freedom Caucus threatening to shut down the government again and again, as the GOP has done before);
  • reading and education (the GOP embraced ‘Moms of Liberty’ and their advocacy against school curricula that mention LGBTQIA+ rights, race and ethnicity, and ‘critical race theory’, as well as Governors Abbott (Texas) and DeSantis (Florida) and their bids to ban books and forbid teaching certain aspects of history);
  • or the ability for the Federal government to execute and enforce laws (Speaker Johnson’s moves to cut funding for IRS agents and their investigations of tax fraud).

In the GOP’s latest vision of the United States, the vision of who the people are and who may vote, and what rights ‘they may have’ is diminishing in front of the GOP’s idea of God, their idea of religion, their idea of science, and their idea of culture and history.

In so doing, they drive the United States further and more deeply away from being a welcoming melting pot of freedom, independence, and equality for all. Their tools to accomplish their vision are fear, intimidation, discrimation, and bigotry, fortified and encouraged by lies and hypocrisy, often done under cover of ‘religious freedom’, citing the Bible as the source for things it never mentions, in a nation where separation of church and state are supposed to be a foundation of our nation’s existence.

Ironically, the GOP marches down a path that is directly against the words of their party’s founder. President Lincoln declared in his House Divided speech (June 15, 1858), “A house divided against itself, cannot stand.”

It’s an insight which the GOP in its right-wing, short-sighted zeal, has chosen to ignore.

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The Custard Tart Dream

To set the dream scene, I was different in some ways to my real life self. Still white, I was tall and skinny with short black hair, and wearing a holey white tee shirt dingy gray with age. About nineteen years old, I was clean-shaven and despite my dirty clothes, I was clean. I knew I was poor but I was a happy and hopeful individual.

Walking among some dark industrial ruins, I came across a table. On it were about a dozen tarts. Six inches in diameter, they were custard, with cinnamon sprinkled across the top, and stacked about ten tall. Beside the tarts were a dozen empty tart pans in a stack.

Finding the tarts pleased me. I’d been walking for days, hadn’t eaten and was hungry, but more importantly to me, I’d been travelling alone and had not seen anybody the entire time. Finding the tarts, if they were fresh, was a sign that others still existed and could be close by.

I didn’t eat them, though, though I grinned widely as I looked at them. I didn’t know who owned them and refused to take them, thinking that would be stealing. Then, walking around, I found a cardboard sign with handwritten letters in red marker, “Free”.

I still didn’t take any. At that point, other people emerged from the shadows. Seeing them, I knew they were as hungry as me, so I called to them and started passing out the tarts. As I did, I found that there were more tarts than I thought. While I was surprised, I was also pleased because that meant that everyone could eat more.

Then, a voice told me that they’d been watching. They were going to provide me tarts, and I could sell them. That confused and surprised me. I queried them about why they’d want to do that. They answered that they thought I’d be good at selling them.

I shrugged. If they wanted to do that, it was okay, I guess, I said, but I’d rather just give them away because so many people didn’t have money or food. The voice replied, you can do what you want, they’re your tarts.

Dream end.

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The Writing Moment

It’s just one of those days, unpredictable to me, when the writing effort gains sharper clarity and focus. I think the bottom line is that after weeks of thinking and writing and editing and revising, my understanding of the story as originally written crystallized and is now much higher. This feeds to greater focus and concentration, because I’m more certain about where I’m going. Which then generates greater writing energy and enthusiasm, pressing me to keep writing and editing, keep going, keep going.

But, writer’s butt is setting in. The cheeks are compaining about the chair’s hard surface. And though I’d go on, my stomach is querying, “Hey, are we going to eat anytime soon? Very hungry here. Hello? Anyone feel me?”

And my brain is harping, “You need to run errands. Go shopping and get needed supplies for yourself, the house, the wife, and the cats, and add gas to the car because it’s almost on empty.”

Moments like this are always bittersweet. So much was accomplished, leaving me feeling joyous over my progress. But I must stop. There will be other days. Some will be like a slog through knee deep mud, but there will be others like this, when I feel like I’m soaring.

In the muses we must trust, amen.

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

This morning delivered light serendipity.

Waiting to turn, he was behind a silver third generation Toyota Prius and a current series Dodge Ram pickup, also in silver. Both turned left, and he did the same.

As the three accelerated down the boulevard, he checked the oncoming traffic: a silver third generation Toyota Prius, and a current series silver Dodge Ram pickup. From his angle, the two pairs of vehicles were identical.

He laughed as the cars and trucks passed each other, wondering if their drivers noticed what he was seeing and about the odds for this happening.

It would have been really freaky if a car like mine was behind the other two doppelvehicles coming my way, especially if the driver looked like me.

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The Rock Dream

This is a short dream, or more explicitly, my memory of this one is brief. I have a sense that there was more dream but disturbances in the force truncated remembering more substance.

This was a neat part, though. Truging up a hill, I was in a deep twilight, one that curtailed light, limiting what I saw and knew. A weight was on me and my shoulders, back, and leg muscles were all aching. Weariness was slowing me. Each step was shorter and the time between steps was longer. I was thinking, I might not make it, and what should I do if I didn’t?

Taking a longer break to rest and rally my will, I looked almost straight up. Above me was a jagged rend in the darkness, displaying a galaxy splashed with red and blue swaths, a surprising and breathtaking sight.

Almost immediately after seeing the galaxy, I was in another place. Confusion punched through me about the change. I staggered a little, feeling myself off balance.

Then a man was talking to me, an older, baritone voice. I whipped my glances around, trying to understand who and where he was, missing what he was saying. When he paused, I asked, “What?”

Impatience glazing his inflections, he said, “I said, this is your new rock. We’re replacing your old rock.”

Bewilderment ascended in me. “What are you talking about?” But in parallel to me asking that, I saw a line of boulders in spotlights ahead of me. All were pretty large but the first one, an light grey ovoid, sucked in my attention. “What rocks?”

“You’ve been dragging a huge rock, a boulder, up the mountain. We think it’s time you get a break, so we’re giving you this one to drag for a while.”

“That little gray one?”

“Yes.” The impatience flared. “That’s the one.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t even know I was dragging a rock.”

“Dragging, carrying it,” the other said. “Do you want it?”

While that exchange went on, I took in a huge black monolith to one side, bending backwards to see its top. “Is that the rock I had?” I knew it was. Rock was a pale noun for the enormous piece towering over me. “I’ve been dragging that?”

“Yes, that’s your burden.”

Laughing, I was already answering, “I’ll take the grey one, then, sure. That’s a lot smaller.” I was thinking, that’ll make it all much, much easier.

“Okay, go ahead, then, take it, but you should now, it will grow. Burdens always do.”

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: roly poly

Congratulations; we are now into November, 2023’s eleventh month. Hope your November Eve went well. Ours was a quiet one, just a pot brownie and some streamV and reading.

Today is Wednesday, November 1, 2023. Ashlandia, where winters are mild but brisk, is chilly this morning. 37 F has climbed into the low forties under gray yarn clouds wearily highlighted by tepid sunshine. Amazing me, the weather masters declared that our high will be in the low 70s before the sunny period goes away — sunset, I think it’s called.

As it is now November, we’re preparing for turning back the clocks this Saturday, thinking about how we’ll spend that extra hour.

Politics occupy much of my gray mass again. Well, I call it politics but much of it has to do with the trials involving the former POTUS, DJ Trump. His children are testifying in one trial this week. As none of them seem able to keep the story straight and tell the same thing under questioning, it’ll be interesting to see if or how the stories explaining the property valuations will differ.

Meanwhile, I was thinking about how I’d like to see us move forward and move on toward solutions for the many problems besetting us, but the GOP has become so radicalized under MAGA leadership that I don’t believe this nation has forward gears any longer. We’re just stuck spinning our wheels, slowly slipping backwards toward a new era of white heterosexual male dominance.

You’d think that I, a WHM, would say, gee, that’s cool, my people will be in charge. First, many white males are not my people. Our values diverge too completely. Second, I’m one of those people who believe in equality and justice for all, and that it shouldn’t be predicated on sexual orientation, gender, pronouns, education, wealth, skin color, or religious beliefs. Someone should start a country based on those principles. From my point of view, intellectually, morally, spiritually, culturally, our nation is only as free as the least free of our peole, only strong as the weakest of our people, and we can’t advance as needed to solve our problems if we keep spending resources and energy trying to fight ourselves.

But that’s just me.

Catching wind of my thinking, The Neurons are offering Olivia Rodrigo and “Vampire” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark indeterminate). See, Olivia is singing about her relationship with another. That other is manipulative, using her and abusing her, sucking her dry, she sings, just as the GOP is doing to the United States. Take Sen. Tommy Tuberville. Please.

Tuberville, a MAGA Repubican Senator working alone, has deciced that the US military was too woke. It’s such a bullshit concept that I gag just thinking about his projection. But this upsets poor Tommy. So, to make the military, which has existed for 200 years plus and developed its policies continuously throughout that time with expert input, into his own image, Tommy has decided that he will decapitate the military by blocking senior promotions until the military gives in. This has been going on for months.

What’s bunching Tommy’s panties up now is that the US Senate has grown concerned about how this affects military planning and readiness, you know, because fucking war takes few breaks. I’m not for war, and the way I see it, cutting off the military leadership’s head emboldens other nations whose leaders think that waging war is a good way forward. So, back to the main point, the Senate, led by Democrats but supported by Republicans, are going to change the rules and terminate Tommy’s tantrum. More or less. There are exceptions.

This, to Tommy Tuberville, a man of the people, is very unfair. See, it’s all about Tommy, in Tommy’s mind, and now he’s whining, wah, look at they’re trying to do to me. Wah, they’re not including me in any talks. They are so unfair and uncompromising, not even willing to negotiate with me, just because I’m a senator terrorist holding our military hostage. They’re mean and un-American.

Yeah, suck it, Tommy, you vampire.

So here’s Olivia Rodrigo with the soft but emotional “Vampire”. Hope you enjoy it.

Stay positive, remaing brave, and keep leaning forward. I have coffee; here’s the video. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thought

A coffee shop barista approached me as I sat typing. He was wearing a hat, sunglasses, and jacket and had served me just a few minutes before. Smiling big, he said, “Howdy, buddy.”

I stared at him in confusion. “Hey. What’s going on?”

Grinning, he removed his sunglasses and hat. “We were asked to dress up like our favorite customers for Halloween. I chose you.”

Bursting out laughing, I took in he outfit. “Spot on,” I said. “That’s cool. Thanks.” Then I laughed more.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: black whimsy

Woo hoo – Happy November Eve Day!

Yes, it is too a thing. People dress up in costumes in many places. Children in costumes often scurry from house to house being given candy and pumpkins are curved and lit up to welcome November. November is the eleventh month in our calendar, and eleven is a power number, so, to summon good energy and dismiss dark forces, we celebrate November Eve. November 1st is more seriously and somberly feted on the actual day, as the forces of the universe are frequently nursing cosmic headaches. If you’ve never had one of those, it’s like lightning and thunder.

BTW, November finds its name from the Latin, novem, which means nine. It’s comfortably fitting for the modern era that our eleventh month was originally the ninth month, and we kept that name.

Well, if this is November Eve, then this is October 31, 2023, the last day of the tenth month of this year, and also Tuesday.

Talking with folks the other day — I was more listening than speaking — many were mourning the current state of crap in regard to politics, various wars, inflation and the cost of existing in the US, gun violence and mass murder — you know, just an average day in 2023 — when The Neurons woke up. Sniffing out the general tone of comments and agreements, they injected “Black” into my mental music stream, where it still plays in the morning mental music stream (Trademark dark) today.

“Black” by Pearl Jam (from 1991) is a love song. Starts gently and then rises to a wail of emotional pain as the narrator/vocalist acknowledges that he and the woman he loves can’t find the balance to live together. He’s saying goodbye to her in his mind, wishing her the best and reconciling fate even as he rails against the moment.

So I can see why Der Neurons played “Black”: it’s an assessment of the present and sadness for the future and what will be. Actually, despite its status as a love song, it’s an accurate theme song for many people in the US and beyond who, as our singer does, ends up wailing, “Why,” and “Why can’t it be?”

The particular version is accoustic, from MTV Unplugged. Hope you enjoy it on this November Eve, where it’s 37 F in Ashlandia and the November Eve parade, colloquially called the Halloween Parade, is average. Gonna spark up into the upper sixties before the sunshine cuts its engagement with our town in the valley.

Be strong, don’t worry, be happy, if you can. Now I’m gonna smack my brain with a heavy douse of black coffee. Get it stirring. Here’s the video. Hope you enjoy it and follow my logic for making this song today’s theme music.

Cheers

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Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: Gergarious

Monday, October 30, 2023, arrived as fresh as cherries picked off the tree and as cold as an icebox. Hovering at 42 F, sunshine eventually warmed air and soil until it’s now 67 F in Ashlandia, where arts are prevalent and the Oregon Shakespeare Festival is above average.

Clear and cloudless nights have given us terrific moonlight, like an enormous spotlight was casting blue-white light across the land. Papi likes the moonlight but dislikes the cold and wind, and usually returns post haste after a quick trot around the yard. Tucker felt the air and was willing to sleep out there but I forced him in, enduring his grumblings and protests until he finally surrendered to his fate and went to sleep on my desk.

I like how Tucker’s language has evolved over the years. When he first joined us as a lost, unclaimed stray, he rarely made a noise unless he was fighting with another cat. Then he developed a plaintive meow he’d infrequently employ to request food, attention, or door assistance. When Boo, his number one enemy, passed away, Tucker became very loud and vocal for a few months. Since then, he’s developed a low murmuring conversation style, like he’s speaking sentences but which are not meows. It’s hilarious to me to ask, “Are you hungry,” and listen to him respond with burbling, “Brrpty mrrpka yrpp kerp mmmm,” or the like.

Tucker’s behavior inspired The Neurons when it came to today’s theme music. The big black and white fur booger likes for me to pick him up, give him some sugar, and walk around with him a bit before feeding him. He’ll sit down and look up at me all big-eyed and earnestly say, “Errp nerrp?” I usually repeat it back to him, and he’ll reply, “Mrrpy.” I’ve decided ‘errp nerrp’ means, ‘carry me’ or ‘pick me up’, and ‘mrrpy’ means ‘yes’.

Spying on me as The Neurons so often do, they punked me by playing the Doobie Brothers and their 1975 cover of a Motown song, “Take Me in Your Arms”, in the morning mental music stream (Trademark fading).

Remain pos, stay strong, and keep marching forward, even if you must use tiny steps. With a little coffee, I’ll try doing the same.

Here’s the video. Cheers

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