Category: Information

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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Gerfloofious

Gerfloofious (floofinition) – Humans or animals fond of the company of animals. Origins: 1660s (Latin), from ‘gerx’ – flock or gathering. Initial use of the word was to reference people who ‘gathered in herds to celebrate or learn’ but the meaning gradually shifted to its modern definition and was widely used as such by the early nineteen hundreds.

In use: “Mouse was usually taciturn or withdrawn around people but encountering animals, he became a gerfloofious socialite.”

In use: “Learning that their youngest child, Davy, was austistic, Lori and her family often struggled with his angry outbursts and lashing out, but when animals came into the household, his demeanor shifted and he became a gerfloofious individual, displaying characteristics and personality that they’d never witnessed heretofore in him, boosting their hope for the manner of life he could lead.”

Recent use: “When Meerkat Manor began airing in 2005, the gerfloofious meerkats quickly charmed many people, turning viewers into peri-addicts to see what happened next to Flower, Tosca, Shakespeare, and the rest.”

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Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts

Someone said, “I’ve been watching Hallmark Christmas movies. I watched three yesterday.”

Surprise went through me. Had I missed Halloween and Thanksgiving? I replied, “What month is this?”

Another said, “We put up and decorated our first Christmas tree. We usually put up two, one in the living room window, and a larger one in the family room. That’s the one we put up.”

I was staring out at the sunshine and leaves. Many were still on trees, their chlorophyll declining, losing their green colors, letting other colors emerge. Autumn, in other words.

As others continued talking about their Christmas-themed activities, I thought, I’m really out of touch.

I’m still celebrating autumn.

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Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

Here we go. Thursday ends in a y, so it must be time for me to rant.

Subject: Are more people running red lights?

It seemed like that was rare for me to witness anywhere outside of Japan, which was over thirty years ago. I’d see one sometimes in the Bay area, especially in San Jose.

Now, here in little Ashland, I typically witness two cars or more a day running red lights. I rarely if ever saw them before the COVID era began. Now they’re increasing. While some are people turning left across traffic and waiting for an opening that doesn’t come until the light changes, the huge percentage are going straight, speeding up to hurtle through an intersection before the light goes red.

They often don’t make it. People get the green light and begin to go and then, here comes the red light runner, forcing everyone with the green light and right of way to slam on their brakes. I often witness very close calls between vehicles, or the speeding vehicle and cyclists or passengers.

It reminds me of the one crash I saw when someone ran the redlight.

This was around 1997. We were living in Mountain View, California, and had decided to go to the Mall of America in Milpitas. Stopped at a traffic light, I realized I needed to be in the lane to the right. Only one car inhabited it, so I thought I’d delay until they went and then shift over.

The light changed. The car in the next lane started off. I followed.

Suddenly, here comes a Cadillac sedan. Running the light from my left, they slammed into the driver’s side of the first car.

That could’ve easily been me.

We went right, around the block, coming back to check on the cars. Took a few minutes and by the time we arrived, the cops were there and the people from the crash were in a parking lot. But my wife and I stopped anyway, to share what we witnessed, and to check on the people.

As we approached, we heard the young female driver whose car was hit say with heavy sobbing, “I thought the light had changed.” On the parking lot’s other side, an old man paced while an elderly woman fumed beside him, arms crossed, lips tight.

I immediately said to the young driver, “It had changed. I was there. It was green when you went.”

The cops looked at me and asked who I was. I explained it all. My wife and I verified, the light was absolutely green when the woman went forward.

I heard the fuming woman say, “You’re always doing this. I knew this was going to happen.” As I looked her way, she finished to the old man, “You’re lucky you haven’t killed someone yet, but you will, if you don’t change.”

Watching these people taking greater and greater risk, I often now think the same thing which that woman said that day.

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White Corvette Dream

The dream began when my wife and I, young people in our early twenties, were driving a red and white Chevy S10 pickup along winding roads. (My father drove a pickup just like this when I was in my twenties.) The roads were well-paved and we encountered no problems. It seemed to be a pleasure drive.

Returning to a house where I think we lived (it wasn’t clear in the dreamscape), we encountered Dad. He was tipsy, surprising me. He greeted us and then gave me a rambling speech and presented me with two checks, telling me, “This is for the hardship I’ve given you.” I protested that it wasn’t necessary, everyone makes mistakes, and so one, but he was adamant.

He went off and I went off. Finding my wife, I told her about it.

I was then outside, looking up at the blue sky. The moon and the sun drifted and floated across the sky’s highest reaches, leaving me startled because they don’t usually drift like an unmoored ship. Cartoon animals began crossing the sky with most changing and becoming something else as they did. One cartoon began very tiny and then grew into a small bunny as it crossed the sky, growing into a larger bunny, transforming from a cartoon creature into a real rabbit, which finished by bounding across the horizon.

Laughing and smiling, I tried telling others about this, but no one was interested beyond what they were doing, which disappointed me. One of my younger sisters then noticed the sky and announced it, and everyone stopped what they were doing to ooh and ah over the sky, irritating and exasperating me. I complained to them about it; all replied that they hadn’t heard me.

Back in the house with my dad, I told him that I need to go to the bank to deposit his checks and tried giving them back to him. He wouldn’t take them back and then declared that he had a check that needed deposited in his account and asked me to do that, scribbling out a check and signing it as he spoke. I took the check but then thought, Dad doesn’t have an account in my bank, does he? Also, he hadn’t give me acount information, although I supposed that they could get the info from the check. The whole exchange left me confused.

But I walked through the house and went upstairs to the bank. Two bank employees were waiting for me there. They already had Dad’s check but then swapped it with the one I had and destroyed the other one. While all this was going on, they sketched what they were doing but spoke so fast that I understood none of it.

Returning to the house and my wife, we went down concrete steps into a well-lit concrete garage. It was like a small maze of different garages but they were all mine.

We entered one of them and found a white 1981 Corvette with a red interior. (By happenstance, Dad had a ’81 Corvette but it was dark blue.)

The car was immaculate. As my wife and I took it in, I said, “I’d forgotten that I had this.”

She said, “Let’s take it for a ride.”

Her request surprised me but she was already getting into the car, taking the driver’s seat. My surprise doubled at that point; this wasn’t the kind of car she liked driving. I tried talking her out of it, pointing out the car’s power and that it’s a manual (she doesn’t know how to drive a manual) but she remained insistent and enthusiastic that she wanted to take it for a ride.

The dream ended with me getting in the other seat as she leaned forward and reached for the key already in the ignition.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: content

Rain baptises Wednesday, October 25, 2023 in Ashlandia, where the bears are above average and the people are wary.

At 41 degrees, which feels cold with that falling rain and sun hiding behind the clouds’ skirts, I infer winter’s edge invading. There is some evidence that winters coming on, with storm warnings of snow falling above 3500 feet in the mountains north and east of us. Crater Lake, 99 miles away by winding mountain roads, is expecting the most snow.

Today’s high: (fanfare) 48 F.

For Wednesday’s theme music, The Neurons shoved “Spill the Wine” by Eric Burdon and War into the morning mental music stream (Trademark reinvented). The song and its presence is hitched to a coffee shop incident where a woman (who I assumed was mom) urged a precious looking little girl in cowperson boots and a shiny dress and a pink coat, “Don’t spill it,” as some drink was slid in the girl’s direction and she eagerly reached.

Replied the little girl in a matter-of-fact enunciation as she aimed a green plastic straw toward her mouth, “You know I won’t spill it. I’ve very careful.”

“Yes, you are,” the assumed mom replied.

Hearing that started The Neurons with that soft percussion sounds that open “Spill the Wine”. Then the sweeping organ punched up the song and the funky rythym began. It’s a memorable song, talking about being given surreal instructions about taking a pearl and digging a girl.

Stay pos, be strong, enjoy life, and keep moving forward. Here’s the music and there’s my coffee. Time to crank on, once again. Cheers

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Overheard

“It was cold in my house last night,” the sixty-ish man said. Dressed in a tweed cap and black fabric car coat, he and his trimmed gray beard cut a dapper image. “I had to turn on the furnace and warm the place to eat my ice cream.”

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