Wednesday’s Theme Music
Mood: jouncy
We’re mid week, but almost the end of the month. Prepare for October; it’s coming.
We’re also entering 2023’s final calendar quarter. 2024 sees us coming and is rushing out to greet us and lick our faces. From what I read on the net, many people are dreading 2024, because of the state of politics in the US and the elections which 2024 brings us. I tend toward the optimistic side of life, so I think the justice system will triumph. I think if I fervently repeat that enough, I’ll believe it can happen. Sorry for the early cynicism.
So many in the US are misinformed as voters and citizens. Slander campaigns are on the rise from the right. They love throwing out fake narratives. They know that people remember the first thing they learn about something, and displacing that information is hard for political campaigns. Increasing the difficulty of correcting false informatin is the right wing destruction machine. It blasts out falsehoods on high volume, looping it day and night, things like the 2020 election was stolen from Trump.
Repeating this information is enough to keep people fooled. For a historic perspective, look how Dubya’s team approached Gulf War II. Their marketing changed the number of people fearing Iraq, and convince many that dire military intervention was the only way to save the world. Twenty years later, we know how that turned out.
But before 2024 arrives, we must endure the 2023 budget show. The GOP reprises this tactic just about every other year. Twenty-eight times, they’ve shut the gov’mint down in protest or to force their way on us. Coercion and fear, hypocrisy and lies, innuendo and smears; that’s our modern GOP. Lincoln weeps for what has become of the party he created.
On to lighter topics, like the weather. It’s a chilly fall AM. Brisk is the mind-friendly term. Rain has been falling intermittently in the last several days. I love the smells and sounds and its positive impact. Like many things, though, too much rain can cause as many problems as too little. Always surfing the balance, aren’t we?
Cloudy skies rule us. We expect high sixties today. It’s currently 53 F in Ashlandia, where the trees are abandoning green in favor of bright reds, yellows, oranges, and so on. Yes, the colors are flaring up all around, a beautiful sight. Wisps of burning odors from wildfires still strike me from time to time, forcing me to the net to prarie dog it and see if another fire started.
Not all is perfect in our realm, though, even with the fires dying under the rain’s. Treatment for algae blooms in our water system has festooned the water with a sharp chlorine smell and an earthy flavoring. Well, it’s drinkable, and it’s running, and it’s not killing us, so it’s a good thing. Such an optimist, I am.
Dreams again inspired The Neurons with the morning mental music stream (Trademark ludicrous). Thanks to a dream involving driving cars, I’m hearing the pop ditty, “Going Mobile” by The Who in my head. It’s off one of my favorite albums, Who’s Next. Although Daltry isn’t on this song at all, it features classic Who touches, Townsend’s guitar work and heavy, busy drumming.
Stay pos, and be strong, and power forward. My coffee fuel has been administered. I’m ready to take on things like shaving. Have a good one. Here’s the music. Cheers
Tuesday’s Theme Music
Mood: introspective
Sunshine glistens off a wet, clean sheen, complementing the air’s fresh smell with sigh-inducing vigor. Fall has been good to Ashlandia, so far. That could present further clues about why I like it. Summer in our zone becomes damaging. Blazing sun takes over, cooking the plants. Temperatures lunge into the nineties toward triple digits. Sweat pours off us as the heat broils us. Wildfires light up as summer lightning strikes parched vegetation. Smoke spreads, clotting our lungs and stinging our eyes.
Come fall, with soothing, “there, there” damp temperatures, the world relaxes; we the people relax with it. In my perfect world, I’d have fall weather but with the long stretch of daylight seen in the summer. That’s where fall fails me, as orbits and planes shift, moving the sun away from us, shortening the daylight.
Temperatures today will operate in a narrow zone. 56 F now, cloudy, 66 F later, with rains coming and going throughout the day.
A bevy of tunes fell into the morning mental music stream (Tradement teasing). Dreams sparked these. Such a myriad of wild, long dreams were experienced. The Neurons just rode the current. The song which ended up on top was “Who Can It Be Now?” by Men At Work from the 1980s.
It’s a true Aussie new wave sound. The part which The Neurons linked to a dream is a line, “It’s not the future that I can see, it’s just my fantasy.” That’s a true beat to my waking mind dealing with the dream mind.
Stay pos and hydrated, be strong and push forward. I can and will with help from my little dark friend steaming in a large mug. Here’s the music. Let’s enjoy some life. Cheers
Circumfloofar
Circumfloofar (floofinition) – Found or discovered in the vicinity of a floof. First known use in 1686.
In use: “Judging from the circumfloofar collection of torn toilet paper rolls by the puppy and kitten — not even pointing out the pieces stuck to the floofs — they were guilty of a first rate case of floofhem, but both little beasts acted wholly innocent, as though the surrounding mess had nothing to do with them.”
Monday’s Theme Music
Mood: lifted.
I begin, it’s Satur — no, wait, it’s Su — oh, damn, we know this is Monday.
It’s Monday, Septembe 25, 2023. As always, I’m surprised that another month is almost ending. Another is close to beginning. We ride the day merry-go-round.
For weather, light gray clouds frost our sky. The sun sometimes escape the cloud cover to present us with a bright glow for a few minutes. Soft rain drifts through Ashlandia.
Smoke has left our area. My sinuses and eyes feel so much better for that. Gone is in the burning and itching, and the congestion and sneezing. Thank you, fates.
We’ve been receiving light rain off and on. Sometimes, it comes so quick, and leaves so fast, hurrying by on cat’s paws, that we have little knowledge it’s been there. We see the drying street and the damp sidewalk. Hindsight can be helpful.
It’s 65 F now, so it’s warmed up but we’ll only kiss 70 F today. That’s good enough for a windy fall day. By the way, I was negligent in not welcoming south of the equator folks to spring. Hope you have one friend of floods, fires, and other disasters.
I’ve always hunted balance, I reckon, balance in work/life, living and loving, doing and dreaming. Oh, yes, and I’ve sought balance between moods, between the dark sides and the sunny, less threatening times. I’m more familiar with my cycles as I’ve gotten older; I know when they arrive. When the darkness comes, I’m ready to curse and give up, walk away from things. I want freedom then, and I feel weary. But I know how to press myself and shut it down and not do anything stupidly impulsive.
Dark days come over me less frequently in my senior years. I’m 67.25 years old, you know. I suspect some of the evening can be attributed to less worry, but also fewer hormones. I’ve also managed to cultivate that calmness that, hey, things aren’t so bad for me. That many things which worry and trouble me are temporary, and that I give these matters a surfeit of attention. Beyond those basics, I find great solace in my writing processes.
Like many Americans, I’m following long stories about Trump’s trials, the potential US government shutdown, various disasters around the world, and Sen. Bob Menendez and the charges against him. Rep. Jeffries had a terrific response to the GOP threats to shut down the goverment. He cited all the times the GOP has done this, referencing their flaccid reasoning for their demands, and pointing out the damage to people and the economy incurred each time. His theme, though: we will not pay the ransom. I embrace his reaction completely.
Meanwhile, on the Menendez front, the evidence is heavy — especially the gold. Hah! But he is innocent until proven guilty. Let justice plow the field and see the results, just as we’re doing with Trump. But if either is guilty, I expect heavy punishments for the crimes against we, the people, that they did while being paid as servants of our nation.
On to music. The morning mental music stream (Trademark insane) is filled with Lucy Spraggan and “Balance”. Surprised?
Not me. The Neurons and I are in tune today. I’m not overly familiar with Lucy Spraggan’s work. I first heard “Balance” online last year. The first several times I listened to it, I was striving to understand the words and message. Eventually, I found enjoyment in the song’s cadence.
Stay pos, if you will, if you can, find your balance and be strong. Here’s the music. Coffee is at hand. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time. Cheers
Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts
We were on vacation for about ten days, venturing east to Pittsburgh, PA, to witness my nephew’s wedding and visit family. One of the hardest adjustments after coming home were meals. On vacation, we ate what we wanted, when we wanted, where we wanted — Chinese, Italian, Mexican, Japanese, or American. Such delicious foods, especially a few local Italian places.
One that deserves calling out is DeNunzio’s in Monoeville. It didn’t look like much when we looked at it from the parking lot.
We started with bruschetta. An appetizer like that in most Pacific Northwest establishments is small fare. Not the Denunzio’s offering. This bruschetti was quite different. Cherry tomatoes were cut in half and put in a bowl with balsamic vinegar, olive oil, and herbs. Toasted garlic bread with loaded with buffalo mozz served on a platter which was fifteen inches long and twelve inches wide. Huge, dudes, huge.
Next, salads. Mine was just arula with red onions, kalamata olives, and Italian dressing made in the restaurant, along with a basket of freshly baked bread. Tasty and satisfying.
Then came my main course, linguini with chunky marinara sauce, meatballs, and garlic bread. We joked with our server about the size of the portions and all the bread. I was full almost immediately and took my leftovers over to Mom’s house for her and her partner to finish off. I sure couldn’t, despite my inspired effort. All this was washed down with a California pinot noir.
Midway through the main course, our server came by. “Need anything?” she asked.
“Yes, could you bring us more bread?” I replied.
I’d be shortchanging you if I didn’t also mention the Italian grocer located down the street from our hotel on Mosside Blvd. Labriola’s had some terrific hot deli offerings. Two pounds of lightly breaded rolled eggplant was purchased and taken to Mom’s for one night. Chocolate filled and cheese filled cannoli was purchased from Moio’s Italian Pastry Shop for dessert.
After getting home, we felt fortunate that we don’t have these places nearby, or we’d be gaining so much weight. At the same time, my tastebuds remember the experience, and I think, I could go for a little Italian today.
Maybe we need to go east again.
Saturday’s Wandering Thought
While visiting in Pittsburgh for a wedding, we spoke with some rabid MAGAts. Common ground was found around three things:
- We don’t like the country’s current direction (but disagree on why, except inflation)
- Term limits are needed for US representatives and senators.
- A age limit is also needed for all Federally elected offices.
Unfortunately, we agreed, the ones most responsible for the mess are also the ones who can effect change easiest but passing laws for numbers two and three from our list.
We know that the final problem is, these elected representatives of, by, and for the people, will never pass laws which make them more responsible to the people.
So, really, we had five things we agreed upon in our search for common ground. None of us were real thrilled with most aspects of the media, too.
Another Porsche Dream
Here we go. I dreamed about a Porsche last night. It didn’t belong to me, and it was two pieces.
Let’s step back to what I start remembering of the dream.
I was attending some function being held outside. Pleasant late summer weather ruled. A picnic atmosphere prevailed. I have no idea what triggered the gathering, nor my role. Although I never ‘saw’ other people in the dream for a while, sounds informed me they were present.
The first startling thing was the Porsche.
I came across the rear first. Mounted on a piece of asphalt roadway, the car’s rear was planted in a position that lead me to think that the car was plowing into the ground.
Then, almost immediately, I saw the front end. Facing in the same direction, mounting on a piece of road, it seemed to be emerging from the earth about forty yards away. An older vintage spyder with the top down, it seemed to be a model 365, a car which I like, gray or silver in color.
Oh, what they do for art, I thought. I wondered if it was original, and if it had an engine, and the crazy artist’s identity.
Announcements began from a person holding a megaphone. They were gauzy with distance. I didn’t recognize anything about them.
I discovered that the car belonged to a ‘director’. Little details emerged except the director was a a tall, slender woman with a short blonde bob in a red dress, no one I knew.
The director wanted somebody to drive the car, giving others rides in it for a fee which would be donated to charity. Were there any volunteers?
Silence answered. I spoke up, clarifying what was being asked. I pondered, was there another Porsche involved? Then I discovered the intact car in front of me.
Naturally, I was surprised. I looked at the artwork installation. The road pieces remained but the car pieces were gone. Miraculously to me, they were a solid car. I tried to understand how that happened.
“I’ll drive it,” I volunteered. The chance to drive a vintage Porsche thrilled me. This was going to be fun.
Keys were given to me, and instructions about my agenda. First I was to drive the car to another location.
The director made another announcement; “My car is dirty. I need a volunteer to wash my car.”
Again, nobody spoke so I said that I would do it. That pleased me. Weird as it may sound, I enjoy washing, cleaning, and polishing cars.
In a dream jump, that was done. I was driving the little spyder, top down, on a two lane road. The car, which is a two-seater sports vehicle, now had a big seat, and I had four or five passengers. I could glimpse in the car’s rearview mirror, and heard them chattering, and laughing, enjoying the ride.
I pressed the brake pedal to slow us as we came up on traffic. The car slowed some but we ended up bumping into the car in front of us. It wasn’t a hard impact. I was embarrassed and surprised, and hoped I’d not caused any damage.
The other driver, a bland guy, and I met at the bumpers. He looked at it and shrugged, waving it off. I didn’t see any damage to the Porsche, so I climbed back in and set off.
Though I planned and adjusted for the car’s weak brakes, I almost rear-ended another. This really dismayed me.
“Just as I thought,” I told my wife. “This car has next to no brakes. That’s why it took so long to stop. I’ll need to be careful.”
On those words, the dream ended. I came away thinking that I can step up but exercise some caution. I took that from volunteering when others wouldn’t. However, the brakes weren’t working as expected, hence the idea that caution is needed.
Conversely, my neurons were just having fun with me.
The choices seem equally plausible.
The Writing Moment
It was mid-Saturday morning.
I’d arrived in my favorite coffee locale for my writing session. Vintage soulful music with a jazzy edge was playing on the overhead speaker system. The baristas were busy with drive-through business. Only one other person shared the tables with me, a young woman in a far corner who displayed predatory interest in her cell phone. I’d seen her there before, never with anyone else, and always engaged in her cell. As usual, she was dressed in a sloppy style of what looked like pink and gray pajamas. Her solitude, isolation, and deep focus on her phone piqued my writer side. Oddly, I’d never caught her name from the baristas when her order was called.
I’d pulled my laptop out and had it set up. My mind was already in writing mode. I’m halfway through the first revision of a novel-in-progress with a weird working title, Yum. With my nephew’s wedding and the travel to Pittsburgh and other activities it entailed done, I was eager to delve into the story I’d written. Its speculative nature readily engaged me, and I’m really pleased with what I have so far.
“M, your coffee is up.”
The speaker was the barista, Nate, a good-looking, dark-haired man who seems in his early twenties. I gt along with him quite well. He’s always in a good mood, and we’ll often talk about subjects outside of coffee, inclding smoke and politics.
I headed up to collect my cup and discovered it filled to the brim. Grinning at me, Nate said, “You said you wanted no room.”
I laughed. “Clever.” I reached for a straw.
“Want me to pour some out?” Nate asked while making coffee drinks.
Shaking my head, I gave him a severe look. “Pour out fresh coffee?” Its steamy smell filled my nose. “No, no, challenge accept.”
Inserting the straw into the hot beverage, I sucked some up so it wouldn’t slop any over when I walked. Nate watched and laughed.
“Good job,” he shouted as I took my drink and headed for my table.
“Damn straight,” I answered. If coffee was to be wasted today, it wouldn’t be at my hand.
Time to write like crazy, one more time.
Michael Seidel, writer 