I overheard two strangers chat a little in the coffee shop. One asked the other about the book he was reading. The other replied, “It’s Dostoevsky. It’s written as a series of letters.”
Poor Folk, I guess, sneaking a glance over. I’d read it, I remembered, wondering if that was the book he was reading. I took a minute to hunt down when I’d read it, remembering it was the summer of 1989, when I was living in Germany. I took summer college courses which addressed different Russian, Jewish, French, and American authors. Dosteovsky was one of three Russian writers.
Over thirty years ago, I suddenly realized with a mental thud. The race of time surprised me once again. I’ll be 68 years old this year. That just amazes me. It shouldn’t, I know, yet it does. It feels like just yesterday that I was thinking, wow, Dad is 68 this year. Gonna be seventy in a few.
I probably mentioned it before, but my first sip of coffee is actually two or three deep inhalations of the aroma. I’ve done this more or less since I began drinking coffee as a young adult, but the idea was solidified as a ritual when I read that coffee’s smell enhances focus, memory, and attention span. Figuring I needed whatever advantage I could dredge up, I embraced my ritual.
I imagine that some day, I’ll be older, and sharing that with strangers in coffee shops. But not today.
Saturday, January 13, 2024, has arrived with higher temperatures and heavy, wind-driven rain whipping Ashlandia (where the coffee is excellent and the parks are above average). It’s 42 F now, not far from the expected peak of 49 F. Rain has been falling all night, and the misty low, fat clouds look like they have a lot more to give.
The cats both wanted out this morning after their breakfast. Tucker settled in a dry but cold location on the front porch while Papi sought whatever drives him to wander. I managed to coax both back in after thirty minutes. When they came in, both dashed for me and I discovered Papi was soaked. I toweled him off (despite his protests and efforts to flee) and then Papi headed for the kibble station while Tucker went to the litter box.
Left home early, didn’t take the dog (don’t have one) or the cats (I have two). Coffee shop numero uno was at full cap so I went to numero dos. A prime writing location was available so I sat and began. Unfortunately, I discovered that a leak was exploring the ceiling above and splashing down. I alerted the staff and shifted sites. No good writing location was available but I found a table and set up camp. A young guy at my most preferred site. Understanding that I was on a laptop and could use an outlet, he approached and offered it to me. Such kindness. I offered to buy him something as reward but he declined.
One amusing thing was observed. I saw one barista drift through, washing off the unused tables and tidying. About four minutes after she went through, a second one went through, doing the same thing to the same tables.
Very satisfying and uplifting dreams were experienced last night. Hope everyone has such dreams in their life. Thinking about it had The Neurons plug “What Is Life” by George Harrison (1971) intorock the morning mental music stream (Trademark drifting). I get what The Neurons are doing there, because I’d been musing about life since a conversation with a friend about death the other day. Her husband worries about death and fears it. I related back that I didn’t worry about it because we don’t know if there is an ‘other side’ or the full nature of ourselves and our existence. I mean, between religion, science, and philosophy, we’ve developed some great ideas and insights about what it is. But knowledge is ever-evolving, and as we explore the quantum side of being more, we might surprise ourselves with what we learn. “I think, therefore I am,” might even apply to us after we die along paths that we can’t yet divine.
Stay pos, lean forward, remain strong, and test negative. Coffee and its bennies are already perking through my systems. Here is thy theme music. Cheers
Just think back of when telephones first came to the United States. Few probably foresaw a time when telephone lines spread pole to pole across the nation. Not many probably had visions of homes with several phones. They probably didn’t see the invention and rise of phone booths.
If you’re old enough, you can probably recall conversations about the cost and need when ‘calling long-distance’.
Folks of the telephone booth probably didn’t see a time when all those phone booths would be gone. Few probably guessed that phone lines would start disappearing underground. People with all those phones in their home likely never suspected those phones would be unnecessary with the rise of wireless and cell phones.
Pew Research from 2021 states that 97% of Americans own a cell phone. So, given the progression we’ve seen since the telephone first arrived, what will be next? How many of us will still be holding onto a cell phone when it becomes archaic, and what will replace it?
Just sipping coffee on a cold and rainy afternoon, watching people using their phones in the coffee shop, and wondering.
It’s a sunny, cloudy, snowy, dry, cold Friday out there in Ashlandia today, January 12, 2024. (Ashlandia: where the snowfall is below average.) The snow isn’t falling but hazardly tossed as lumpy blankets as it unevenly melts and freezes. Roads are clear and dry. Clouds are a buff, low gray mass which sometimes permits a blinker of sunshine. It’s 34 F now, but rain is supposed to be coming as we’re treated to a high of 44 F today.
The cats are out, taking advantage of the storm lull. Though I dislike it, Papi is prowling and inspecting, looking for changes in his kingdom. Tucked in with his tail wrapped around him as a warmer, Tucker is just breathing fresh but cold air on the covered front porch’s doormat.
I’m better, thanks, already drinking coffee, breakfast already well along the digesting process. It’s interesting, too, but after Wednesday night’s BVVP experience, my tinnitus is amost completely gone. The worst after-effects is worry that it’ll happen again – especially in somewhere public — and my abdominal muscles. Every giggle, guffaw, laugh, yawn, cough, sneeze, and grunt has those muscles screaming, give us a damn break.
I perused the list of ‘not banned’ books in Escambia County, Floridayesterday. These over sixteen hundred novels, biographies, dictionaries, and encyclopdias are not banned, the county always explain, but have been called unsuitable by some and were removed for review and decisions.
From the cited article, PEN America notes (their emphasis),
“Five dictionaries are on the district’s list of more than 1,600 books banned pending investigation in December 2023, along with eight different encyclopedias, The Guinness Book of World Records, and Ripley’s Believe it or Not – all due to fears they violate the state’s new laws banning materials with “sexual conduct” from schools.
“Biographies of Beyoncé, Lady Gaga, Oprah Winfrey, Nicki Minaj, and Thurgood Marshall are on the list, alongside The Autobiography of Malcolm X and Black Panther comics by Ta-Nehisi Coates. The Feminism Book was banned along with The Teen Vogue Handbook: An Insider’s Guide to Careers in Fashion.
“The list obtained by the Florida Freedom to Read Project also includes Anne Frank’sDiary of a Young Girl, The Adventures and the Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie’sDeath on the Nile. The Princess Diaries and 14 other books by Meg Cabot have been taken from libraries, alongside books by David Baldacci, Lee Child, Michael Crichton, Carl Hiassen, Jonathan Franzen, John Green, John Grisham, Stephen King (23 of them), Dean Koontz, Cormac McCarthy, Celeste Ng, James Patterson, Jodi Picoult, and Nicholas Sparks. Conservative pundit Bill O’Reilly’s two books, Killing Jesus and Killing Reagan, were also banned pending investigation.”
I have to thank Scottie’s Playground for pulling this together and providing it to us. To close, the most shocking aspect are the quotes Scottie included from Judd Legum’s coverage:
Attorney General Ashley Moody argued that the school board could ban books for any reason because the purpose of public school libraries is to “convey the government’s message,” and that can be accomplished through “the removal of speech that the government disapproves.” This is a novel argument about the purpose of school libraries.
That’s GOP freedom and democracy for ya.
For some alien reason, The Neurons were playing operator-themed music in the morning mental music stream (Trademark perplexed). Songs like “Operator” by Jim Croce, “Smooth Operator” by Sade, ”Operator” by the Grateful Dead, and “Operator” by Manhattan Transfer. The last stayed put for a longer period, morphing into today’s theme music.
Although either agnostic or pastafarian — it changes as much as the weather — I enjoy gospel music. I also feel for the search for community, support, reassurance, love, information, etc., from something beyond our daily endeavors. You never know what you’ll find or where you’ll find it when you reach out in need. Although religion doesn’t do much for me, I’m happy for those who can find their answers there, so long as they don’t tread on me or try to foist their answers on the rest of us.
On to the day. Stay pos, be strong, test negative, and keep leaning forward. I know it’s not always easy, believe me, but I’ll keep trying for those four fundamental foundations. Here’s the music. Cheers
Today is Thursday, January 11, 2024. Snow flew through the skies all day yesterday except for one fifteen minute period. Other than that whenever I looked out, it was coming down.
The temperature rose, though, so the snow was melting, and the plow truck had passed through multiple times, so the roads were clear. An ice danger remained in shadowy parts. Always does.
Then, three o’clock, the temperature dropped and a new snow assault began. I don’t know when it ended but we have eight inches in my area/elevation this morning. But the sun is shining, and blue skies are seeping through the thinning grey clouds, so it’s a gorgeous winter morning. Was 29 F when I got up. Now it’s 37. 44 is expected to be the upside. Rain is supposedly on its way but right now, no rain clouds are in sight.
The day started badly for me with a prolonged bout of BPPV – Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo. Basically, crystals in your ears responsible for your balance break loose and wreak havoc. Bursts of vertigo result, with nausea and vomiting. It’s more prevalent in people over sixty and more women experience it than men.
I’ve never had it before, but it came on strong. Just after midnight, as we were closing shop, I experienced sharp vertigo when I moved my head. Everything in my vision bounced around me and I thought I’d blacked out for a second because of its intensity. Asking myself, “What the fuck was that,” I observed it again and again. Meanwhile, my left ear was ringing. I began getting hot. Within seconds, sweat covered me, beading on my face. Simultaneously, a feeling was growing in my solar plexus. I thought I was getting hungry and was amused because we’d had an excellent dinner, but no; I was getting ready to refund dinner.
Feeling the vomiting sensation rising with tsunami-like intensity, I lurched for the bathroom. Vertigo crashed over me with every step. I hung onto walls and furniture, pinballing from piece to piece to stay upright. I just made it to the commode. Then violent vomiting began. My wife hurried in to get the story but I couldn’t speak, as my mouth was busy with the heaving for five minutes.
When that segment ended, I gasped out my symptoms and she charged to her computer to see what could be learned. Moving my head, I had another violent five minute session. My wife reported that she thought it was BPPV, which she’d once experienced. She also had several friends endure her, so she has so familiarity with it. With her help, I went supine to the bathroom floor. She brought me a pillow.
I didn’t want to stay on the bathroom floor. By now, my body was shaking. Deciding to try to get up, I went into another V2 – vertigo/vomiting – episode, though little was in my stomach. Didn’t matter. I simply retched and retched. Now convinced by my weakness, shaking, vertigo, and vomiting to not move, I hung onto the commode and bathtub and obeyed the illness’s commands.
My wife came in and told me about the Home Epley Maneuver to cope with BPPV. I resolved to try it but learned that any head movement fired up the vertigo, followed by puking and shaking. My body’s sharp spasms almost caused me to almost defecate in my sleepwear. I recognized that I wasn’t going anywhere for a while.
It was now 1:45; I’d been enduring this for over 100 minutes and it didn’t seem to be getting any better. I couldn’t stay where I was, I decided, because new visions of vertigo and a need for sleep fed fears of my head or mouth crashing into the porcelain surrounding me. I told my wife I needed her help to move, and outlined my plan to go to the office, and sit still in there in a chair under covers, and maybe sleep until this passed. I’d take a small waste basket with me. She came up with the idea of bringing in my wheeled-desk chair so I wouldn’t need to walk, because the vertigo and its follow-on consequences lit up with every movement.
That worked. Pulling in a second chair, my feet were elevated and the blanket put on me. Then I clutched the wastebasket to my chest and dry-heaved for a couple minutes. She went to bed and I slumbered off and on in the chair, puking a few more times. Thinking that I was tired of holding the waste basket on my chest, I eased it to the floor. That induced another round of vertigo and puking.
At 5 AM, I needed to pee. Rising and walking with the stiffness and gait Frankenstein’s monster, I took care of business but kept my head movement to a minimum. My body expressed some interest in puking but they were mild and I suppressed them. The moving actually seemed to help. My sleeping position had been uncomfortable, so I rearranged things into a more comfortable position and turned on the television for companionship, streaming some old show. No more puking was endured and sleep finally came. I didn’t wake up until 8:30 and felt much better.
I did the Epley Maneuvers a little while ago. I’m still shaky and tired, and leery of eating anything. My wife made me a smoothie for breakfast and now, here I sit, intermittently searching the net for more info about BPPV.
The Neurons, always ready with a sick sense of humor, started playing “Dizzy” by Tommy Roe from 1969 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark crashed) because of my vertibo bouts. I know the song well. My stepfather when the song came out was George. He had two daughters. The oldest one was nicknamed Dizzy, so when the song came out, she adopted it as her theme music.
Stay positive, test negative, be strong, and lean forward. No coffee yet today; just water (dehydrated this morning, for some reason) and the smoothie. Here’s the music. Cheerio
Snow dilutes the light through the windows and blocks the solar tube and skylights, wholly changing the house’s ambiance. Yes, we’re part of the snowstorm holding the Pacific Northwest hostage on Wednesday, January 10, 2024, which is today. It’s 32 F now, as it has been for the last five hours. Snow continuously fell during that period, alternating the flakes’ speed, size, or density, but it falls nontheless. The road has been plowed a few times. I’ve seen one bird and no other animals out there. I hope the homeless are okay; the emergency shelters have been opened.
The snow is expected to yield to rain later. Looking out as a tow truck motors down the hill past my house, it looks like the snow is more sleetish. Snow is falling off tree branches, wires, and fences, so something is going on.
I’m happy, though, because the snowbank is climbing, part of the complicated, multi-faceted process for delivering us summer water.
My eyes yelp against the white-sheeted landscape’s intensity whenever I look out, like the snow is sucking up the light and then firing it back with a tenfold intensity. Sunglasses help but it feels odd wearing sunglasses in the house while looking out the window.
Les Neurons have loaded “Snowblind” by Black Sabbath from 1972 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark stuck). Lyrics easily return from when I listened to the album, Black Sabbath Vol 4 back in high school. Scott — a high school peer — gave it to me because he didn’t like it because it was too dark and brooding. “Kills my buzz,” he laughed with that light in his eyes. He was such a trip.
I understood what he meant, though. This song in particular felt like a downer with its plodding sound and semi-screeched lyrics. Still, they come back to mind with little problem: “My eyes are blind, but I can see. The snowflakes glisten on the trees. The sun no longer sets me free. I feel the snowflakes freezing me.” I sometimes sang them to myself countless times since learning them when walking in the snow in Ohio, Pennsylvania, South Korea, Germany, Oregon, and other places.
Stay positive, test negative, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee has come my way. Snow still falls, delivering fatter flakes to the four inches on the ground. Here’s the music. Cheers
Yes, it’s a wintslow Monday on this January 8, 2024. First off: how long after New Year begins is it acceptable to wish people happy New Year or variations of that? After I challenged a person telling me happy New Year, I countered, Merry Christmas: it is coming.
Winter holds court outside. Snow sketches lines over the mountain ridge’s dark pines and firs. Grey clouds mute the sun’s impact and diminishes the land’s colors, though the starkness of snow and mountains across the valley is majestic and pulls eyes and thoughts. It’s 33 F now, with 46 F offered as a cap to today’s warm streak.
Most are pleased that snow has fallen at last. One young woman, a high school senior, told me yesterday that when the big flakes started really dumping, she went out and danced in the snow. ‘Course the skies and snowshoes have come out and people are heading for slopes and mountain treks.
Just a pause to note that one person conversing with me yesterday claimed the local hospital is full of COVID patients. She’s a nurse so I have some faith in her observation.
Football and award shows about popular culture hold forth in the news today, although some elements are also addressing the upcoming Iowa caucuses. Many world and national events are still ignored, or not spoken about, at least, part of the stalemate in communications which we’ve reached. F’r instance, the economy is ‘better’ and ‘doing great’ but that doesn’t mean much if you’re hanging on to pay for necessities or are suffering food or shelter insecurity. Just as it’s been for hundreds of years, maybe thousands. There are some who have more than enough to indulge whatever they want for themselves, and a chunk who live in desperate situations. Fault lines shift but the bottom line throughout history is that the rich get richer. After all, from being born to advantage, to having people grovel before them because of ‘who they are’ — i.e., the money they have, which begets power — to being able to buy favoritism and special treatment, money moves our civilization and the wealthy are indulged with preferential treatment.
The Neurons, being who and what they are, served up “Do You Wanna Dance” to the morning mental music stream (Trademark launched). This came as I was asking the cats as part of our morning routine, are you hungry? Do you want something to eat? Yes, they told me, Tucker in his quiet and understated manner, Papi in his youthful, energetic, more vocal style. Meanwhile, The Ramones had taken over my head with their 1978 cover of the song had my head jerking and my feet tapping as I dished out pate to the floofs.
Stay pos., be strong, remain calm, and lean forward. I am presently leaning toward my coffee; once I drink more, I hope to right myself. Here’s the music. Sing it to your floofs. Let me know what they think. Cheers
This is Sunday, January 7, 2024. It was a wintry day this morning after a 24 hours of competing precipitation. We cycled through various snow forms, slush, and pellets with fog smearing the background optics. The sun would prairie dog in to see what was happening on the ground but the air stayed chill. Looking out and seeing the situation, my wife said, “It’s good to be retired.”
Today brought us light snow in some places layered over 32 F air temp. My partner had a birthday party to attend. I’d been excused to do my thing but that plan collapsed when she saw the roads and asked if I’d go to the party. You know, so I could drive. Thus is why I’m posting late.
Good party, and worth attending, a friend, Barb, celebrating number 80. She did it right with champagne and mimosas and tables starting to splinter under the weight of food. While Barb made most, people also brought food (my wife took her five minute almond tarts, an Ashlandia favorite). (Ashlandia, where the food is above average.) To complement those food offerings, Barb also hired a crepe truck. We had choices of caprese, lemon, cinammon, or chocolate crepes made to order. With a house packed full with friends, and people coming and going from ten AM until the planned end, seven PM, how could you not but have a good time?
I went walking yesterday afternoon, enjoying the wintry ambiance. Reminded me of young years in the places where I lived where climate invited snow and ice on a regular basis — Ohio, Iowa, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Illinois, West Virginia. Breathing in cold air, same cold air scolding my skin, a little dribble out of my nostrils. Snow changes sound and light. When you’re out there alone, a sense of isolation descends. I could hear my breathing, feel my heartbeat, and entertained new thinking.
The Neurons unleashed “Good Feeling” into the mental music stream, and it carried over into today’s morning mental music stream (Trademark frozen). “Good Feeling” is by Flo Rida and was released waaayyy back in 2011. It’s good music for me for today because despite what reality might push into my face, I remain optmistic and I have a feeling things will get better. Fingers crossed. Knock on wood.
Before I close, I want to offer this for reflection: the ‘sound’ of the solar wind. Because everything isn’t about the privilge and deprivation of this world’s people. There’s something out there beyond ourselves. This ‘sound’ comes to us unnoticed every second of every minute, hour, day, month, year. Pausing to consider it offers perspective that existence is more than this planet and what we see and hear. Yes, many reply, but this is our home, and the only place where we are — well, as far as we know with our limited understanding.
Stay pos, be real, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee has been served; hurry before it runs out. Here’s the music. Feel free to sing along and rap along. Cheers
Today is Saturday, January 6, 2024. I will be thinking about Jan 6, 2021, and not fondly, along with all that’s happened since. Not posting about that man and that day here today.
Snow has joined us in Ashlandia, where the roads are white but need some repairs. I was able to sit down with Snow and chat with her a little today.
“Hi Snow, welcome back to Ashlandia.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s been a while.”
“Yes, it has, it’s good to be back.”
“Can I ask you your plans? Are you going to stay in the area for a while, or?”
“Well, I can’t say. It’s all changed. Big money controls us now. Summer and I were just discussing this with Winter the other day. They’re moving us all over the place. The schedule is hectic and crazy. We never know where we’re going to be next.”
“Well, how ’bout the immediate future? Will you stay here for the day?”
Snow slide a dark smile at me. “Honey, I honestly can’t say. The money controls the weather, and I’m subject to their whims.”
“Well, good luck to you, Snow. Thanks for coming in.”
“Oh, no, save your luck. You’re the one who’s going to need it.”
Yes, we awoke to 2024’s first snow in Ashlandia. I spotted it first at cat o’clock, when I released Papi into the silent night. Fat, slushy snow globs were falling straight down but nothing was on the ground. When I brought him back in about an hour later, snow was covering the yard and pellet like flakes were spitting from the sky. Breakfast saw traditional lazy, feathery flakes gracefully drifting down to the land. We now had an inch. Post-eating, the snow was fat but earnest pellets gliding in at an angle, adding to the accumulation.
It’s 32 F right now. 39 F will be the day’s high.
Thinking about how long it’s been since snow visited Ashlandia, The Neurons dialed up a popular staple called “It’s Been A Long, Long Time”. Many of a certain age know it as soon as those first words are sung, “Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again, it’s been a long, long time.” Per Wikipedia, released in 1945, the song gained popularity when covered by Harry James and His Orchestra, with Kitty Kallen singing in her lovely voice. Mom listened to her a great deal and was a great admirer, so I heard her sing this song often. Many artists have covered it but I have the Louis Armstrong version coursing through the morning mental music stream (Trademark dusty) because I always enjoyed his style.
The snow has stopped falling and has melted off the cement and asphalt. It’s still 32 F.
Stay pos, be safe, smart, and strong, and lean forward. Coffee is making its way into my mouth and through my body. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 