Category: Information

A Wonderful Flying Dream

I don’t know exactly where this took place. The POV often changed. Sometimes it was upclose and personal, as though looking from my eyes. Other times, I saw myself from several feet away.

I was in my mid-thirties, as so, and in a large, white place. I don’t know what it was. Definitely didn’t seem like a church. Pews were absent, along with any other religious clues. Sand white carpet was underfoot, complimenting the white walls. A huge cathedral ceiling with tall windows dominated.

I’d been there for a period and knew the area. At this point, I was watching others. Many were attempting to fly things which looked like a kite and a mylar balloon had offspring. None were large. Many looked like π. Another appeared to be a long, mildly curved tablet. As I watched people trying strings to these and trying to fly them, I thought, they’re all doing this wrong. Getting my hands on a π, I went to the highest point that I could find and threw myself off.

The highest point was only about twenty-six feet tall. The height was enough for me to hold π to my chest, jump off, and fly around the room. As I did, I grasped that I could gently shift π and change my course, feather, and wheel, which I did. Others all stopped to ogle what I was doing. After I landed, they clamored for explanation about how I did this. I started trying to teach them but they struggled. Meanwhile, I wanted one of the curved tablets. I thought that I could really do things with it.

Around then, a car drove up. The driver’s window went down. It was the guy in chair and his wife. He called me over for a conversation. He said, “I hear that you’re flying these things.” I was distracted, looking for one of the tablets. Airborne, I was waiting for it to descend low enough for me to grab it. After I replied, “Yes,” to him, the boss man continued, smiling, “Well, I’m not at all surprised. I always thought that if anyone could, it’d be you.” Flattered, I answered, “Yes, but there’s more to come with these.” Responding, I’m looking forward to that, he drove away.

I caught a tablet. Taking it to the highest spot, I leaped off. As I plunged toward the ground, I gently invoked a mild bend in the tablet. It instantly took me back up to the ceiling. As I thought, its bend and shape provided more lift and control. As the others watched, gasping at what I was doing, I sailed around the room, diving at people, rolling, and then soaring back up.

By now, some children had learned to fly π. They began trying to follow me. I led them on short trips around the complex. Unlike the cathedral, the complex was a labyrinth of low dark tunnels opening onto square rooms where orange light glowed.

As I went down one tunnel on a tablet followed by a few children on π, I encountered another child flying a π in the other direction. As I moved to let her by, I caught my tablet on something stuck out of the wall and went into a spin. Unfazed, I righted myself and went on, impressing everyone because the spin barely slowed me down.

Dream end. I felt great throughout the dream, and smiled when I remembered it after I awoke.

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Solarfloof

Solarfloof (floofinition) – Another expression for a sunfloof.

In use: “Animals who enjoy lazing, lounging, or sleeping in pools of sunshine, who move with the sun across spaces, or sit with their face to the sun are often called sunfloofs or solarfloofs.”

Related: Sunfloof; heliosfloof

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Monday’s Theme Music

It’s 76 F this Monday morning, the first of August, 2022. Turn the page, as Seger sang.

A high of 90 F is expected today. So are thunderstorms. Thunderstorms rolled through in a big way last night around midnight. No local lightning. More fires were ignited in the Cascades.

The smoke has shifted away this morning. Our good fortune but others are suffering somewhere. Firefighters are strategizing and working to contain numerous blazes in California and Oregon. The fires’ names and situation replace city tax and budget matters and lost pets on our local social media.

Sunrise, at 6:03 AM, was more normal. Sunset will be at 8:33 PM. They say our temperatures are going to drop into the 80s F this week and return to average range in the mid to upper nineties next week.

The Neurons have songs in the morning mental music stream, oh yes. Saw the setting sun last night as the smoke thinned and the clouds parted to open the sunset show. It looked like a “Red Rubber Ball”. Written by Paul Simon, which I didn’t know for years, Cyrkle had a hit with it in 1966. I vividly remember hearing it as I played on the patio of our Vernoa rental house.

Second song, yeah, “Tequila Sunrise” by the Eagles, 1973, also a reflection of last night’s sunset. My mind keeps bringing up morning songs in response to evening settings. It’s like everything is reversed. Maybe it’s reverse week, you know, where up is down and left is right. Does that happen in your reality?

The third song is about the Fitbit missing from my wrist. I go to check the steps or the time every hour, as it’s trained me to do. The tracker isn’t there so The Neurons immediately rip off the Zombies song and sing, “It’s not there,” a pull on “She’s Not There” by the Zombies from 1964. Santana covered it later. Both versions have been theme songs here, along with the first two tunes. What to do?

Reject The Neurons, of course! Here’s “Here I Go Again” by Whitesnake (1982). Ha! Take that, Neurons!

BTW, it’s National Exclamation Day in my reality today!

Stay positive and test negative, my friends. Stay cool and safe, or warm and safe, or dry and safe, whatever works for your weather situation. Maybe you’re a fortunate and have a lovely weather day in progress. Enjoy it.

Here’s la musica! Where’s le coffee?!!

Cheers!

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Saturday’s Wandering Thought

On the one hand, the sky’s smoky haze incubated worrying questions about the fire’s location size, growth, and containment. But the smoke blocked the sun and kept the temperature in the low 90s F, granting relief from the previous broiler level days.

Fire, smoke, heat, he just hoped the animals, lands, and people all stayed safe. He crossed his fingers to amplify his hopes.

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The Writing Moment

He and the muses were kicking around what to do at this juncture in the novel. Four hundred pages in, it’s a critical point. Lot of reveals to be brought to the story. He needs to get it done but doesn’t want to rush or force it. He’s mindful, too, yeah, this is the first draft. He’s still learning the story. Don’t overthink things.

He ended up spending time over the last four days editing and revising, working his way through the first two hundred pages while his mind dances with approaches to what comes next. Trust yourself, he urges himself. Don’t get cocky, he reminds himself, but also don’t get depressed, and don’t fail into a trap of overanalyzing what you’re doing. Write what you want to read.

He really enjoyed most of the story but then, he felt severe disappointment with one stretch. Why, that’s absolute crap, he told himself. It was not what he wanted to read. He wouldn’t read it. It needed to be treated like a deep infection.

That understanding came but also fertilized recognition that a new approach was needed for this aspect. Weirdly, he felt optimistic that he had a grip on it.

Or maybe not weirdly. He’s a writer, and that’s what they do, always believing, I got this.

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Good for Something

My home weather station claims the air outside is now over 112 F. Alexas says it’s 108 F in Ashland, as does Accuweather on the net. It’s a good time to be not outside.

The heat is good for something as long as you’re protected and a person of leisure, as I claim I am. Just finished reading The Killer Angels, All Systems Red: the Murderbot Diaries, which is the first book of the Murderbot Diaries, and Suspect by Robert Crais.

The 1974 historical novel by Michael Shaara, The Killer Angels, interested me for three reasons. One, it won the Pulitzer Prize. Secondly, Joss Whedon said that this was the novel which inspired a seriously entertaining and short-lived series, “Firefly” and its subsequent movie, Serenity. The browncoats among you will understand. Third, The Killer Angels is about the Battle of Gettysburg, and I knew little about that battle. In truth, I know little about most battles. Battles aren’t things which I’ve studied.

It was a gripping novel, full of powerful scenes and descriptions, lively with emotions and the complexities that a battle during the American Civil War needs to have. Much of the POV was Lee and Longstreet’s perspectives, along with Chamberlain, but others were portrayed. It’s a well-written book. How much is true? I vetted a great deal, but you know how it can be when dealing with history.

After that, All Systems Red: the Murderbot Diaries was a fast, quick, easy read. Martha Wells created an entertaining, pitch-perfect character and delivered a delicious setting and plot, all quite deftly, seamlessly accomplished. It won high awards and deep praise, and deservedly so. I’ve added volumes two and three to my library hold list.

Then, whoa. If you’re going to read Suspect by Robert Crais, brace yourself for a fast-paced and tense experience. This is the first Robert Crais novel which I’ve read, and I’m going to search for more. Hold on, though, if you decide to read it. Kind of like reading The Lovely Bones by Alice Seybold, this is not a light read. It’s gritty and intense. Prepare to pause for some deep breaths.

With those three completed, the sum of my week’s novel reading, I turn now to Blood Grove by Walter Mosley. I know what to expect from him and believe that my run of reading entertainment will continue.

Stay safe, y’all. Cheers

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Floofnimical

Floofnimical (floofinition) – An animal who seems hostile or malevolent.

In use: “Many animals, when first encountering humans, seem floofnimical — especially if sick or injued — but people find a steady, patient diet of soft words, healthy food, and some space for the animal to relax often causes a one eighty in the animal.”

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It’s Alive

Three AM?

An insistence buzzing breaks my sleepwall. As consciousness is dragged forward, so comes awareness that this noise is arriving from the Fitbit on my wrist. Yes, I’m one of those who sleep with a bit on my wrist. Use it to wake up, check time, a quick splash of illumination when necessary, and such matters. But why at whatever broiling dark thirty hour was it going off?

Don’t know. Checked the digitalware and found it cycling through its functions. Perhaps it’d gone crazy from heat or being with me. It’s a Charge 2, an old device that’s not even supported any longer. I’ve worn the bugger for years, going through fasteners and bands.

A smart person would have plucked that sucker off their wrist and gone back to sleep. But I ignored it, leaving it on my wrist, as it came up and buzzed every three seconds, announcing, “Notification” like it was telling me nukes were inbound or fire was consuming the house. Eventually, no surprise, all those notifications sucked the life right out of it. It was totally dead when Tucker awoke me for Sixes, his affectionate term for a six AM feeding. He was meowing, “Get up, get up, time for sixes.” I put the FB on a charger. My wife started her day shortly later. I told her about the Fitbit and asked her to wake me when she left for her exercise class because I was going back to bed.

“It’s probably dead,” she said. “You probably need a new one. It is old.” Then she promised to wake me.

The final exchange left me wondering about electronic lifespans among devices and their ratio compared to human years. It probably varies to some degree between, say, microwave ovens and iPhones. I decided, without real reason except how often and quickly our tech marvels expire, that one human year equals ten digital years. Your ten-year-old electronic device is 100 in digital years. JMO.

When I checked on the Fitbit an hour later, it was fully charged and alive. My dashboard showed no data lost except for about two dark hours.

All’s well, then, though, looking at it, I could use a new band. This one looks fifty years old. Makes sense. I bought it four years ago.

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Worth Repeating

In other news, those high gas prices — you know, the ones that everyone says President Biden caused — are killing the fossil fuel companies.

That’s snark, ya know.

$2,245.62 a second: ExxonMobil scores enormous profit on record gas prices

Corporations will be corporations. They’re formed to make money, no matter what the fuck is going on around them. We need some kind of governor for their greed.

Of course, this is CNN reporting what they ‘claimed’ the companies reported, so it’s probably fake news, right?

Right.

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