Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: cheery

Greetings to all Earthbound beings. It’s Tuesday, October 10, 2023 — 10/10 — in Ashlandia, where the rain is welcomed and the temperature is chilly. Autumn has swiped brushes over the window’s vistas. Overnight, plums and burgundies have been delivered to compete with green, amber, lemon, and red. Quite a splash for the eyes.

Rain plays metal notes on the roof’s vents. It’s 53 F now and will advance ten degrees up the thermometer before the sun’s retreat.

With this ambience underway, I’ve not checked the news. I’m saving myself for a few minutes more to just ensure my safe little bubble of existence.

I’m eager to continue writing. On the other hand, chords loaded with guilt on sometimes struck. I feel I should be doing more about the house. Part of this is that my wife has a busy week: Food & Friends deliveries yesterday, exercise classes every other morning, and book club Wednesday night, in which she’s the moderator. She takes moderating very seriously.

Besides those pretty standard things, Empty Bowls is on Friday. This is a fundraising effort to fund the city’s charities to help fed, cloth, and shelter the less fortunate and homeless. Local artists and art classes provide bowls. You basically buy a bowl for $25 and fill it with soup. Local restaurants and politicians provide the soups, along with breads.

An annual event, my wife has been preparing the table centerpieces for a decade. The pursuit has become more involved; Peace House, the hosting organization, has less and less resources for the centerpieces. That moves the burden to my wife’s shoulders, so she’s been scrounging for flowers and vases. The ‘vases’ are pint bottling jars. Thanks to one of my friends, we managed to procure enough of those.

All that puts her on edge. But in addition, the Empty Bowls commit also asked her to make some vegan cookies for the event.

Well, my wife isn’t one to refuse such a request. Agreeing added anxiety, though. She went through recipes and made a decision about what to make. We bought the supplies last Friday. The baking will be done Thursday. I wish I could do more to help her, and that’s why I feel guilty for going off and writing.

The cloud-heavy sky has me thinking about the upcoming ring of fire eclipse. Due on Saturday, we’re right on the path’s edge as the eclipse traverses North America but wonder whether the weather will clear enough for us to enjoy a view. Stores and businesses have been selling eclipse glasses for several weeks, but Scienceworks gives them out free. We’ll get them free and then give them a donation, LOL.

I was listening to Papi singing this morning. Papi is my ginger gentlefloof, a slender blade of a feline who exhibits a standoffish air. I’m the only one permitted to properly visit with him, although my wife is making progress with him. He’s skittish and wary to the extreme, a complete 180 from Tucker (our black and white long-haired fellow), who deeply enjoys human company. Papi avoids people and animals.

So, growing cold weather induced me to close the pet door. Papi loves the night and enjoy popping in and out. Coming in to eat kibble, going back out to witness the world. The pet door’s closure forces him to convince me to let him out. He knows I don’t like breaking out of sleep and slipping out of bed to do this, so he now sings the “I Want Out” blues.

The song starts soft and slow, just one gentle note every other minute. Gently the notes build in volume and then begin to come more frequently. Finally, a wail invested with the power of all unfairly imprisoned entities breaks the dark. I usually get up and do as bid with the first few notes. I thought that I’d let Papi sing a while before letting him out, as he has such a beautiful voice.

Naturally, rain and Papi’s blues inspired Les Neurons to conjure blues about rain in my morning mental music stream (Trademark possible). Well, first there was Tina Turner singing about rain on the windows. Then John Fogerty broke in to ask me if I’ve ever seen the rain.

Slipping into the blues, Stevie Ray Vaughn apprised of flooding in Texas. Finally, though, we had Buddy Guy singing “Feels Like Rain”. Buddy’s song struck the right balance of feeling and being so it won honors as today’s theme music. It’s a song I’ve used before as my theme music, basically for the same reasons.

Stay pos, be strong, and keep chill. Coffee has landed; here’s the music. Cheers

October 10, 2023 0

Monday’s Wandering Thought

I’m a regular at one coffee house in town. There are other regulars but I’m told that I’m one of the most consistent and dependable. I spend a few hours a day in there, drinking my favorite black brew while sitting in the corner, writing.

The baristas and manager all know me just because I’ve been coming here so long, and we chat when I’m ordering. We talk about football, politics, books, news, movies, etc. They know my drink — it’s always the same — so ordering is not necessary, though paying is. It isn’t unusual for them to hand me my drink when I step up to order.

I suppose this is why one small but touching practice has evolved. For whatever reasons — miscommunication or mistake — they’ll end up with food that the customer they made it for doesn’t want it. This includes pastries, cookies, brownies, cake, and sandwiches. So often, they walk across the crowded room to offer it to me first.

I am touched but usually turn it down. I have more than enough to eat. While I appreciate it, I think there are others who would appreciate, enjoy, and need it more than me. And, when I turn it down, they do find another who wants it.

October 9, 2023 0

The Writing Moment

Revising my current novel-in-progress continues. I expected to be done by now. I was excited the other day because, hey, only thirty pages remain.

I am over page 400 now, so I have that going for me. But, as I read and revise, I encounter matters of continuity. Like eye or hair color, nicknames, and details relating to the characters’ personal histories.

I don’t know what the right thing to do is, but I always stop, go back, and resolve the issue for myself. It’s one of my personality quirks that if I know that’s still in the book, I become bogged down thinking about it. Better to just resolve it.

A danger to going back to research continuity is that rereading those passages entertains me. I get invested with enjoying the story. Which means that the revising timeline gets imperiled by reading my own stuff for entertainment. There’s also often a little more needs to edit and revise exposed. Like, I’ll encounter a sentence that’s slightly scrambled, just enough for me to question my writing skills and stop to fix those issues.

I also backtracked to a previous chapter. I’d been quite long, so I modified it and re-invented the one big chapter into four smaller ones. Then I did something to another long chapter, feeling that the move would enhance clarity and pacing – win-win.

The final note on this part of the revision is that it’s tying up the story, closing with a large battle, with some matters of other dimensions and time thrown in. I’m a sucker for other dimensions and time. My writer self is amused with our current theories and understanding of these things. Like the growing understanding of quantum entanglement and other quantum matters, I think we have more to understand about time and existence.

The passages in question were also written at high speed: think, write, and press on, with admonitions to myself, don’t slow down to analyze and question. Just get it done and fix it in revision.

And that’s what I’m doing. TBH, I’m a little surprised that it flows as well as it does.

Onward, right? Yeah, just give me a little more coffee. Pass it over; doesn’t matter if it’s cold.

October 9, 2023 0

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: ennui

Hello, fellow trekkers through life. It’s Monday, October 9, 2023.

Heavy clouds clipped in under night’s cover, announcing autumn was ending our Indian summer flirtation. 65 F now, 66 F is the projected high for Ashlandia, where all ingredients are fresh, locally grown, and organic, except when it isn’t. Showers are expected shortly, the beginning of a local rainfest running this week.

Was tired this morning and didn’t want to leave my bed. Not happy news out in the world, in my mind, right? More war rising and escalating.

But, the cats clarified who has the power and how my desires fit into the morning routines when it comes to decisions about them eating or me sleeping. I also remembered that I’d committed to helping my wife.

Said wife — still the first (I know, it’s a surprise to all of us) — had Food & Friends deliveries scheduled that day. She’d be returning from exercise class, change clothes, swig down his coffee and don some lippy, and then she and I would jump in the car. I’m here driver for this monthly volunteer work.

Our last F&F outing didn’t go great. Three people didn’t answer the door or the food. Typical F&F beneficiaries are elderly, handiapped, or people coping with diseases. So, besides delivering food, F&F’s mission includes ensuring people are okay and don’t need assitance.

We picked up the food at the senior center and perused the list. Three people were off it. We talked about them, hoping they’re okay, wondering about their situation. Two new people had been added. Off we went.

It mostly went well, although there were hitches, such as being short one frozen meal. The biggest issue was that one new man didn’t answer his door. My wife called the number provided; not in service. After knocking more, she wrote a note to him on the official F&F slip and we pressed on.

Afterwards, we went back to his place. Still no answer.

The man lives in an apartment complex. The manager’s office was nearby so my wife went over to speak with the manager about the man. Turns out, the F&F client has a motorized wheelchair. He’s a smoker and likes to go out to smoke. The manager had seen him two hours before, buzzing around the campus.

Calling it a day, we returned to the senior center and my wife documented all that had happened.

The driving and waiting seemed to drain me today. Selfish of me, I reflected, but then again, that’s my writing time. Reactions involving writing doesn’t aways flow down normal culverts of thinking and emotions. Also, I volunteer to help her, and I enjoy it. Just one of those days.

I always wonder, though, what brings people to this point. Thinking about why they might be on a F&F client, I pursue the regular courses of reasons. Genetics, giving disease an unfair advantage. Bad luck, like car accidents and house fires. They might have been victimized by others, or made decisions which seemed to be the thing to do, only to have it all go south.

While sitting in the car, I listened to the radio and waited at one point. “Tailwind” by Kenny Wayne Shepherd came on. I’d only heard the song, which came out in 2019, a few times before. I know controversy about KWS was stirred a few years ago over his ‘General Lee’ replica. The General Lee is an orange ’69 Dodge Charger with a CAS battle flag painted on its roof. The car was featured in a television show called “The Dukes of Hazzard”, which aired from 79 – 85. Overseas most of the time, I didn’t see much of it.

Anyway, KWS had a nomination for Blues Musician of the Year (or some honor like that) rescinded because of his ownership of the car. In his response, KWS acknowledged he had the car but had the CSA flag covered up because he knew it represented racist elements. He apologized for it and stated that he stood against racism and oppression for everyone.

Well, hearing the song, The Neurons kept it going in the morning mental music stream (Trademark confusing) after we’d shifted into the afternoon. So, I’m gifting it to you. The Neurons and I agreed that the lyrics fit my mood.

Sometimes I feel like a man in a can
About to go hurtling through
Space, whiplash fast
Soon as the match hits the fuse
Sometimes it seems like I’m making it up
Crazy and crazier days
When fiction ain’t stranger than the truth
Turn the page
Turn the page

Roll around the world
And around again
Someplace we’ve never been
Blow a kiss and
Fly with the sun
See how lightning fast we can run
With a little luck
We might just catch a tailwind
Hey, fellow travelers
Keep travelin’

Somedays I swear that the game must be rigged
Jokers up every last sleeve
And if crooked is straight
Then what the hell does that make me

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Stay pos and be strong. Here’s the music. Off for coffee and writing. Cheers

October 9, 2023 0

Floofkempt

Floofkempt (floofinition) – Being overcome with emotions over news or images of animals, or interactions with animals. Origins: first used in 1991 in New York, borrowed from Middle High Floofman.

In use: “Watching videos of animals being rescued on Flooftube, Jill was clearly floofkempt from the stories being shared.”

In use: “Nancy became a little floofkempt as she talked about senior floof’s final battle with cancer.”

October 8, 2023 1

Costume Ideas

Thinking about going as a classified document for Halloween. Just putting on a costume to go to a Halloween-themed concert.

Considering other ideas as well, like a subpoena for Trump. Or The Dude (see The Big Lebowski). That last one feels like it might be right.

October 8, 2023 0

Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts

Austin is gone. I haven’t seen him in days.

Austin showed up earlier in 2023. Just after spring, is what I think. A white man in his mid-twenties, he appeared to be in good health. About 6′ 2″, his hair was bright, shiny copper. His shoulders were broad but he was otherwise lean, but didn’t seem very musular. His clothes, usually green or gray, the sort worn for hiking, were in excellent condition. A large backpack rested on his shoulders and back.

My interactions with him were brief and superficial. I nodded to him once and said, “Hello.” He didn’t answer. I held the door open for him another time and was rewarded with, “Thank you.” Thank you is the most I ever heard him say to anyone.

Quickly becoming a daily regular, Austin usually requested water or ordered tea. His voice was low, with a soft tone. I rarely heard him order, but saw the tea or water. He never spoke to other patrons and sat alone, sipping his drink and listening to his phone through earphones. He didn’t have a regular seat, as I do. He sat wherever there was space, stripping off his huge backback and setting it on the floor beside him. People tried to give him money several times; he always rejected it.

His routine presence intrigued me. I like watching people and observing matters. Regulars and their habits are like a weird hobby for me, which I call ‘coffee shop spotting’. I have made several friends in this way. I’ve often included aspects of what I observe in my fiction writing.

Since we’re located close to the Pacific Coast Trail (PCT), I speculated that Austin was walking it and stopping in Ashland for a break. Many hikers pass through here in that way. They’re a normal, regular sight. Many stock up on supplies, rest and clean up, pick up mail, and receive packages. I figured Austin was doing these things.

But one week became two, and two weeks expanded into several months. Austin spent the entire summer in Ashland, walking Ashland Street with his pack on his back, stopping at the coffee shop, and then going back out and walking down the street again. I never saw him anywhere else. I don’t know where he slept. He always presented a neat and clean impression.

Now he’s gone. I never met him but I worry about him. He’d become part of my daily landscape. I asked the coffee shop workers if they knew any more about him; no. Several shared my concerns and had made many of the same questions. Austin never elaborated to him about any of his plans and situation. I know that local homeless individuals tried becoming his friend, but he rebuffed him, too.

I hope he’s okay, and that he’s not same killer or something on the run, and that whatever brought him spend the summer in Ashland has been resolved in his favor. Maybe there never was anything. Perhaps he was just taking time out from his life for a while.

It shouldn’t be important to me; other people have come and gone. It’s that Austin was a regular but an enigma. That made him a puzzle.

Now he’s gone but the puzzle remains, probably never to be solved. I hope he wasn’t injured or hurt. In my mind, I’ve sent him back to the world where he started. He’s resumed his life, and is back in college.

One can hope.

October 8, 2023 0

Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: chill

Good morning, fellow travelers. It’s Sunday, October 8, 2023.

Indian summer continues in Ashlandia, where the people are mostly progressive, and concern about climate change continues to rise. Today’s weather looks just like yesterday’s with sunshine and blue sky continuing its autumn takeover. Temperatures range from 56 F in the morning to 87 F in the afternoon’s final hours. I am very happy about it and hope it doesn’t end soon.

A friend’s seventieth birthday was celebrated at her house yesterday. She has two sons. It was her sons and her son’s husband, along with her other son’s boyfriend, who planned and hosted the bash.

She’s a retired botanish. As such, the taught botany at California and Oregon colleges and universities. She also worked with the forest service extensively. Naturally, that life work and its locations were dominated the guest list. Many Phds attended. Professors, BLM and forest service people were plentiful. Botanists dominated.

Let me tell you, these botanist are engaging, charming people. They love to have a good life. So we all had a good time.

The party defined The Neurons’ music selection today. I have “Get A Haircut” by George Thorogood and the Destroyers circulating in the morning mental music stream. Released in 1992, the song tells the story of a long-haired fellow who keeps receiving the advice to cut his hair and find real employment working nine to five. Thorogood didn’t write the song; that was done by Bill Birch and David Avery. Thorogood heard it while in Australia and liked it because it pretty well defined exactly what he was hearing.

The Neurons began playing it because I asked many people last night about their jobs. I enjoy drawing people on these things. For example, one woman had retired after thirty years as a librarian, even though she’d been educated to be an urban planning. After receiving her degrees, she decided that she didn’t want to be involved with urban planning. But a job was needed to pay bills, so she applied for a job as a part-time librarian. Its order and structure appealed to her. This was back in the days when people, organizations, and businesses would call the library for help on research. She especially enjoyed that. That job is rarely needed these days because corporations bought or developed their own databases, and the Internet emerged. Just fascinating to hear her recount as the slow change in her job took place over the final twenty years.

Stay pos, be strong, and keep reaching for the stars. Here’s the music. Let me go find coffee. Cheers

October 8, 2023 0

Airfloof

Airfloof (floofinition) – 1. An area secured by animals arriving by air. Origins: Europe circa 1943.

In use: “Using the walls and furniture as a floofcourse, the tabby leaped, jumped, and bounded over the other pets and landed on the bed, showing the rest how to establish an airfloof.”

In use: “Birds were natural at establishing airheads, landing in the birdbath while the cats lounged in the sun.”

2. A silly, scatterbrained, or simple-minded animal. Origins: Floof Angeles, USA, 1971

In use: “True to her reputation as an airfloof, Airy leaped up when the doorbell rang, rushed toward the door, slid to a stop halfway there to wash herself, fell over onto her side, and then trotted over to get her ball as her people answered the door, at which Airy quizzically cocked her head about what was going on.”

In use: “Attacking a ball dustbunnies, Titan slide over the side of the stairs, and then sprinted around in mad airfloof fashion before racing back up the stairs and ambushing the dustbunny ball anew.”