Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
We’re celebrating thirty years of Microsoft Solitaire.
The news surprised me. Thirty years? That’s all? Why, I’ve been playing that game for half my life. Let’s see…it was introduced in 1990..when I was thirty-four, and I’m sixty-three now, so…huh.
Yeah. Almost half my life.
Masked up and went walking yesterday. Of the ten pedestrians I encountered, one was masked. So, about eighteen percent are masked when out and about, contrary to guidance.
Our little town has a reported ten COVID-19 cases. That’s an unofficial count. The county has had fifty-two cases. Social distancing and sheltering-in-place has been practiced, but most only wear masks when in stores, because the stores demand it. So, I suspect our low count is due to our rural nature, limitations on travel, and luck. I hope it all holds.
While out exercising my legs, I realized I was humming a song and identified it as the Rush song, “Freewill” (1980). I have one friend who was a devoted Rush fan and another who can’t stand Rush because they don’t like Geddy Lee’s voice. The Rush lyrics rushed in with these memories (sorry for the pun).
A planet of playthings
We dance on the strings
Of powers we cannot perceive
The stars aren’t aligned
Or the gods are maligned
Blame is better to give than receive
[Hook]
You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice
If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice
You can choose from phantom fears and kindness that can kill
I will choose a path that’s clear, I will choose freewill
h/t to Genius.com
These lyrics are taken in different ways by different people. (Well, words, right? That’s how it goes with words.) I’ve always thought that the song referred to thinking for yourself. I like to believe I think for myself. I wear a mask because that’s recommended; studies show it helps reduce viral transmission.
Maybe I am sheeple, as non-mask fans charge. Perhaps my twenty plus years in the military conditioned me to obey orders without question. Don’t think so, myself; I was known for challenging orders.
Then again, we select and frame the information and memories that best suit what we want to know as the facts, don’t we? We’re each in our own bubble. We try to control what comes in and goes out but there’s quite a bit beyond our control.
Nebulous? No, complicated. One thing that I’ve discovered as I’ve aged is that I’m not the person who I think I am. My window into myself is as limited as my windows into others. My body is often doing things that I don’t know, responding to chemicals in ways that science knew but I didn’t, and my brain often reacts before I think. We depend on surface impressions and isolated moments to inform our decisions. Some of them are magnified in importance – in our heads – rising on waves of emotions and intellect.
Such complicated beasts we are in a complicated world. Which takes me back to “Freewill” and Rush. You make a choice. Sometimes it seems to work, other times, it seems to flop, but a lot of times, we’re forever waiting to learn the results.
An old familiar song entered my head yesterday as I did yard work. Written by John Fogerty, the Status Quo cover of “Rockin’ All Over the World” (1977?) kept me coming.
The mind introduced the song toward the yard work’s beginning. Addressing an issue that I had to do, I told myself, “Here we go.” That invited the song’s refrain, “Here we go, here we go,” in. Once invited in, like a vampire, it can do whatever it was; I’d let it in.
It’s a simple rock song, upbeat and happy, a throwback to simpler times. Your impression of simpler times will vary according to your mileage and mindset, but it works for me.
I often wish that I was more ignorant of the world, that I lacked the capacity to see the big picture, understand the science, recall history, and remember the lies.
Not a genius nor overly bright or educated, I recall matters and critically examine almost everything that crosses my mind and my eyes. Doesn’t help that I’m married to a similar person; we feed off one another. Nor does it help that throughout my military and civilian positions and work, others saw these traits in me and honed them. I become overly critical and analytical; any skill that becomes too dominant can be a liability.
I’d like to live in a ‘just-pretend’ world where things are better, which is probably why I write. I’m attracted to writing detective stories where the main character is deeply flawed and struggles with seeing the good in others over his insights into the wrongs that they do, no matter how small the wrongs. Always on the top of that list is his own wrongs.
Likewise, dystopian fiction, where governments, corporations, religions, and individuals have misled others so they can advance themselves or keep themselves in power, always attracts me. It’s a dark world for my characters.
No surprise, then, my thoughts on the novel coronavirus pandemic of 2020 is that civilizations are poor learning organizations, not infrequently out of step with one another. It’s a messy dance floor where different music is heard by almost everyone. It’s the nature of trying to meld political weld out of individual agendas. We advance by degrees. I always think we could advance more quickly. Yet, too, disagreement and debate are required and healthy for relationships, including governments, societies, and civilizations. It’s when facts become distorted that it gets unhealthy.
Into this mess of morning thinking, prompted by a restless night of writing in my head and chasing dreams, is Jackson Brown’s first hit, “Doctor, My Eyes”, from 1972. His lyrics about seeing too much, looking too long, and how it has influenced his life view, has always been a favorite.
It’s worthy theme music for a rona Wednesday.
I have a few pieces of the old Berlin Wall in my office, along with a piece of the original original barbed wire. Yeah, so it’s all claimed; none of it is authenticated.
They’re symbols of oppression and come to mind now because of the constant chatter about people being oppressed. Businesses aren’t permitted to open, or open with severe restrictions. The restrictions are in the name of health and safety; the people protesting them believe that either the government can’t be trusted, that the restrictions are part of a larger plot, or that state, local, and Federal governments don’t have the right to make such restrictions in the name of safety and security.
Anyway, the discussions and disagreements are building metaphorical walls. The Berlin Wall eventually fell; the Great Wall still stands. I wonder how high our walls will go and how long they’ll stand?
Meanwhile, a John (Cougar) Mellencamp song, “Crumblin’ Walls”, 1983, came to mind. I saw him in concert twice, surprisingly in Germany both times.
Enough of this verbal nattering. To the music.
I was working on my jigsaw puzzle late Sunday afternoon. Fifteen hundred pieces, it’s been slow progress. My wife rarely works on it (it doesn’t draw her – c’est la vie), and I work on it during free time. But I’m close to finishing it (well, it’s eighty percent done) and other puzzles are waiting, so I working on it.
Then I hear, “You won’t hear me.”
“What?”
“But you’ll feel me.”
It was my mind, of course. “I’m busy,” I said. “Go away.”
“Without warning, sometimes dawning, listen.”
“Wait a minute. I know those words.”
Then — bam bam bam bam bap — “Turbo Love” (1986) by Judas Priest blew into my head.
“Really?” I asked my mind. “Why?”
My mind responded by playing “Turbo Lover” over and over. So, it’s one of those ronasits that I need to share it with you to get it out of my head.
Hope you enjoy it. My mind seemed to. Check out the video at least. Such an eighties look.
Foodfloof (floofinition) – Animal with an ardent interest in food and beverages.
In use: “Jade was the ultimate foodfloof. Twenty years old, half-blind, and asthmatic, kitchen sounds (or grocery bags or take-out being brought in) rejuvenated her. She’d spring up like a four-year-old and storm the counters, insisting that she get a bit of whatever was being served.”
Hearing stories from around town…horror stories. It’s one thing to not respect the CDC and WHO guidance about wearing masks and social distancing, to not credit the countries, cities, and states who did this (and here, I shout out to New Zealand) and managed to keep infections and deaths down. It’s quite another matter for people (who claim to be for freedom, don’t you know) who aren’t wearing masks to attack others.
Yeah, attack them. We’ve heard about the shootings and the stabbings. Locally, there are people without masks going around coughing on those with masks and verbally abusing them.
Yeah, this is Trump’s America, a sorry state where bullying undermines intelligence, where childishness and immaturity is applauded as protest.
To close the loop, then, I was thinking about understanding, which lead to a song riff and remembered lyrics, and then the song, “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding”. I’m more familiar with the Elvis Costello cover, so I went with it as your Sunday theme music offering. Like the dash of humor at the start. Cheers
Something disturbed my memories’ deepest levels. Don’t know what, but into this morning’s musical stream comes an oldie. We’re talking early sixties, when I was four or five.
Of course, I’d heard this song throughout the sixties. Played in movies, television, and on vinyl via Mom’s Magnavox high-fidelity stereo, I’ve heard this song sung by Judy Garland, Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, Louie Armstrong, and more.
The version I knew best, though, was Frank Sinatra. I heard him sing it hundreds of times in my childhood. Mom sang along as she washed dishes in the sing and cooked dinner. Later in life, I surprised people with my various imitations of people singing this song, including and especially Frank (although I was also very partial to the Jimmy Durante version, too — he had such a unique voice and style).
Enough, right? Here’s Frank Sinatra with “You’re Nobody til Somebody Loves You” from 1962.
Anyone else know it?
Reading news of dysfunctional America, where political leanings can almost be discerned by who is wearing a mask and practicing social distancing, the Green Day song, “American Idiot” flooded the morning’s musical stream.
Written in 2004, the war in Iraq, election of George Dubya Bush and the U.S. political scene inspired “American Idiot”. Seems like we’ve gone from bad to disastrous. But, as always, just when you think you hit rock bottom, some new madness will emerge.
I’m waiting, breath not held, so see what that is. “Welcome to a new kind of tension, all across the alien nation, where everything isn’t meant to be okay.”
Michael Seidel, writer 