Tuesday’s Theme Music

With an icy wind slicing up my cheeks, I thought about living by the ocean. The ocean is always warm in my mind, even though I have experience with being at the ocean and running from arctic blasts. I guess it’s my reality that it’s not cold when you’re living by the ocean. Naw, just looking for a change from the mountains around me where icy wintry fingers are slowly clenching around it, and thought, beach! Sun! Warmth!

Which prompted the stream to deliver Everclear. You know, “We can live beside the ocean.” Except then, it being Everclear, “Santa Monica” (1995) becomes a bit dark with sparks of hope and longing for havens where we live unencumbered by all the shit wrapping its tentacles around us.



Monday’s Theme Music

Today’s song came via the weather. Our forecast for today said it will be sunny but a drizzle was falling, so, you know, I was a mite skeptical. When sunshine finally broke through, so did a Donovan song, “Sunshine Superman” (1966).

I enjoy this video. Television, music, and entertainment all seemed simpler, didn’t it?

Sunday’s Theme Music

Piddling through the morning and ruminating about what to do today and this week, I drifted into channels that went, “Life. It’s just a game we play.”

That naturally activated certain cells. Next thing that I know, I’m streaming Al Wilson’s “Show and Tell” (1973) because of that one set of lines go, “Show and tell. Just a game I play when I want to say, I love you.”

It’s another song from that era whose every note is familiar. Reflecting on it as I walked to write, I realize that the song makes me nostalgic for that period in a way that other songs don’t. Perhaps it’s the words and their sentiments, and the way that Al Wilson delivers them. It could be the chilly and windy weather stirring up memory flashes of being in Penn Hills, PA, when the song was popular. The sky’s color out here today harkens back to memories of snow warnings.

We don’t have snow warnings here today, but some rain is forecast. As usual, untangling the threads of memories and impressions are too much. I’ll just live with the song and nostalgia.

Saturday’s Theme Music

I didn’t know who originally did this song. I don’t know why I was streaming it this morning. Somehow, between feeding the cats, opening the blinds, making breakfast and coffee, I started streaming “Gimme Little Sign” to myself. It’s one of those instances where the why is buried, but becoming aware that I was streaming it to myself, I looked the song up and learned Brenton Wood recorded and released it in 1967.

It feels like a ’67 song, mellow and relaxed, about love and relationships, and hopeful. Perhaps, subconsciously, I was talking to God(s), the Universal, the Fates, whatever, and saying to myself (or them), “Just give me some kind of sign,” about what to do or what’s to happen, and brought this song to mind. You know how humans are.

We’re all a little crazy. We’re all just looking for a little sign.

Today’s Theme Music

This little pop song comes to you from me hearing it on the radio yesterday. (I was switching through channels, trying to escape Christmas music.) The song wasn’t — and isn’t — my cuppa music, but I know it well because it seems like we were saturated with it when it came out back in 1984. I was stationed in Japan then, and it was being played often on the radio. Besides that, it was catchy, with easily heard, understood, and learned lyrics. People seemed to delight in making jokes out of the title, “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go”. I returned to America at the end of ’84, and discovered the saturation was worse in America.

Here’s Wham! Sorry to do this to you, but I need to get it out of my head. Nothin’ wrong with it, mind you, just not my cuppa.



Imfloofable (floofinition) – a housepet that refuses to change its personality or accomodate any others.

In use: “Although she tried introducing other pets into the household, Flash was imfloofable, refusing to accept any other creature in the home. Like the Highlander, there could be only one.”

The Standoff Dream

Weird dream. I was at a small settlement that seemed to be in the 1860s. Soldiers in Federal (Union) uniforms were present. They were holding off a force of what seemed to be Mexican-Indians.

I wasn’t part of the conflict, but an observer, drawing scenes for posterity, using pencil and charcoal on rough wooden whiteboards. The commander was particularly interested in having cards with small drawings depicting the scenes so he could send them to others without much cost or trouble.

Attacks began while I was working on my drawings. I noticed the Mexican-Indians would shoot volleys of arrows from a distance that was so far out that their arrows fell well short of the settlement. The soldiers in the settlement would stay in hiding, though, sporadically returning fire, but also from well outside of range.

It irritated me because they were both so far out. What was wrong with them? I kept telling people, “They’re all too far apart. They’re too far out. This will go on forever.”

No one listened, though. They admired my art, complimenting me on my skills and talents.

I awoke feeling exasperated.

The dream’s standoff reminded me of the 1980s Iraq-Iran war. We had opcon of the middle-east (southwest Asia, in our parlance). My job during part of that time was to brief the Commander of the Ninth Air Forces every morning. I did the Ops part, which was about the readiness of our tactical air forces and reserve forces (everything east of the Mississippi River), along with any situation reports on incidents that took place on our bases. I was the third briefer each day. Weather went first, followed by Intel.

The three-star general who was the CC and his staff were bullies. If they smelled weakness on you, they started circling, looking for a chance to take a bite out of your ass. I was too stupid to back down, though. Not so, the weather guys. They always seemed like they were about to cry.

The Intel guys, though, were covering the Iraq-Iran war, reporting on tactical sorties the two sides had flown the previous day. Most of that was about one side trying to sink the other’s oil tankers in the Strait of Hormuz in what was called, with little imagination, the Tanker War. The fighters attacking the tankers rarely did any damage because they would fire their missiles outside of the missiles’ range because they were worried about the air defense systems and getting shot down. So, the stalemate went on.

Our commander approved of those fire and run tactics, even if they hit nothing. That kept the aircraft and crew safe while keeping the enemy unnerved. So what if they shot off a missile and hit nothing. Missiles were less than five million each.

Odd how my dreams are dredging up so much past recently. Sometimes I feel like I’m excavating my memories.


Thursday’s Theme Music

Today’s music comes to my stream via the weather report. Looking ahead at the ten day, I saw rain, coming up…rain, rain, rain. With that, the neurons organized. “Rain, rain, rain, a wicked rain” began, the first lines of the Los Lobos song, “Wicked Rain”, from 1992. I like what I perceive as the song’s darkness.

“There’s just one chance in a million that we’ll make it out alive.”

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