It’s a shiny new cold day in the thumb of Ashland, Oregon, where my house sits. 29 F with a high of 39 F projected. Sunshine slithered over the mountains and through the branches at 7:30-ish this morning, but its rays didn’t strike any of our windowpanes until over an hour later. That’s the nature of the angles and impediments to the sunshine at this period of year.
Today is Sunday, January 29, 2023. Just two shopping days left until February pounces on us. They told us we’d have rain yesterday; never saw or heard any. Then they mentioned snow. Should start at 10 PM. No, make that after midnight, Sunday morning, really. Saw none of that the few times I glanced out the window. I thought, maybe they got their Sundays confused. Easy to do almost any time of year, but especially winter, when little is growing. The days appear the same because markings aren’t there to mark any changes. We just keep warm and wait for the shift to begin at our house.
Reading books and news and pondering generalities, The Neurons decided to entertain me with “Lunatic Fringe” by Red Rider from 1981. It’s circulating around the morning mental music stream, bobbing in and out of conscious thought. The song is about the rise of antisemitism which the songwriter, Tom Cochrane, noticed in the late 1970s. Here we are, almost fifty years later, and we were are again, dealing with antisemitism on the rise. It’s a defiant song.
Lunatic fringe
In the twilight's last gleaming
But this is open season
But you won't get too far
'Cause you've got to blame someone
For your own confusion
We're on guard this time (on guard this time)
Against your final solution
The blessed smell entertaining my nose tells me my coffee is brewed. So off I go. Stay positive, as best as you can. We know it’s a sliding scale, spectrum of relativity. Here is the song. Enjoy.
Read enough news this morning to irritate me for a month of Saturdays. Do videos help? Sure, the truth emerges. Man, though, the truth gets ugly. Of course, some dismiss the videos and dismiss the truth and the ugliness. Turn away, pretend it’s not there or didn’t happen, or rationalize why it happened. I’m sure you know the score.
We’re on the cusp of a new month of the new year. How long can we call 2023 ‘the new year’. At what point does it just become the year?
So far, there hasn’t been much change in 2023 over what was happening in 2022. Is the U.S., is the world, heading in the right direction? It reminds me that calendar notations like years and months are convenient for record keeping. The periods of changes and shifts, rise and fall, define themselves. We just use the calendar to remind ourselves what happened when. Think about if we lacked calendars and what it would be like to refer to the past without one.
Anyway, it is Saturday, January 28, 2023. Heard a little girl call it Sat’day in a store yesterday. Dad corrected her, “Sat-ur-day.” She seemed about five years old. She and her father were chatting and shopping. I assume it was her father. She called him daddy. “Daddy, can we get some fish? I think I would love some fish.” I was looking for miso paste. Never did find any.
Sunrise today came in at 7:30ish. Cloudy conditions marred the viewing. Some blue is squatting to the northwest but we’ve been warned, gonna rain at 4 PM and then snow at 8 PM. Not much of either on this day. It’s trending toward being a cold day, especially with the sun’s mitigating effects being squashed. It’s 38 degrees F at my house, reaching for a high of 40.
The big chill is on its way, arriving a few days earlier than they originally thought. But it’s not as bad as initially forecast, with lows dropping to 23 tonight.
I have Devo with their 1980 new wave song, “Whip It”, in the morning mental stream. It’s all about, “Crack that whip.” “Move ahead. It’s not too late. To whip it. Whip it good.” Those might not be the lyrics but it is how I remember them. All about working harder, but in a satirical manner. I’m trying to whip my novel into shape. I cracked the whip but the pages didn’t change at all. The computer was pretty pissed about being whipped, urging me, “For cryin’ out loud, print it out and whip it.” Which made sense.
That expression, “For cryin’ out loud”, is one that Mom often used while growing up. I asked her, what does that mean? She responded, “It just means I’m exasperated.” But why? Why those words? Along with, “Oh, for goodness’s sake.”
Alright, got coffee. Got to power up and get a move on. Those expressions, I understand. Stay positive. Hope you understand. To a happy Saturday and some kinda change. Here’s the tune. Cheers
Midnight was riding up when he slipped on his slippers and fleece. Out the front door he went into a cold, inky night, a cat at his heels.
He closed the front door. The cat galloped ahead. Hard stars ruled the blackness. Stopping a dozen feet from the house, he stared up until Saturn’s yellow spot was located, and then watched until he found the green comet, C/2022 E3. He watched it for a few minutes, imagining the comet’s journey, pleased that he’d seen it.
Until next time, he told it with a small wave and then returned to his house, holding the door open until the cat ran back in, too.
You wake up and do some things and then settle down and scan the news. Today you see, oh, ten dead in California, another mass shooting. You don’t read it but you know that somewhere out there are thoughts and prayers.
You have your own. Probably think about the lives ended in gunfire. The families and loved ones left behind. You might, briefly, think, that could be me and my name among the dead. Or someone from my family.
Or you might think, this is the United States. This is the cost of freedom. Those people should have been armed. One of them might have shot and killed the gunman.
Or, it’s California, what do you expect, might have slipped through your thoughts. Perhaps you wondered, what was wrong with them, that they had to kill ten people. Maybe you just shook your head and clicked on.
Happy Lunar New Year, aka the Chinese New Year. It’s the Year of the Rabbit. Peace and relaxation are associated with the rabbit, along with grace, quiet, and contemplation. I wish you a good year.
Today is Sunday, January 22, 2023. Our weather teeters between bleah and ugh. No sunshine (sing it, Bill). 32 F now. Blue sky and sunshine haven’t risen to the moment yet, though sunrise was at 7:33 this morning. The forecast high will be 40 F. “There will be mostly sunny skies,” says the forecast. The sun watch begins. Sunset comes at 5:13 Ashlandia time.
Inspired by the thought, “Here we go again,” The Neurons dialed up James Blunt and his song, “1973”, from 2007. Not much else to say about that. It was a song I heard while driving around back in that year, but as I listened, I heard references to other songs as part of its lyrics and ended up looking it up one day, just to learn more about it.
The coffee has been served and the cats have been fed. Stay positive, if you can. Least give it a shot and have a solid Sunday. Here’s the song. Cheers
Sunshine began crowning around 7:15 this morning in Ashlandia, and then came the sun’s piercing rays through trees and over snow-topped mountains at 7:34 AM. White and blue has been sprayed-painted on the sky. The paints are still resolving their form. It’s still and cold, 29 degrees F. Saturday, January 21, 2023, has been reached.
The other end of the day will come with the sun rolling away as the planet spins on at 5:11 Ashlandia time. We’ll have clouds and sunshine and other fun stuff with an ultimate high temperature of 54 degrees F.
I’ve been reading about state responses to electric cars. Many manufacturers declared that they’re shutting down internal combustion engine production by specific years. Some states have mandated that only electric cars will be sold within their borders by an established date. In response, other states, such as Wyoming, are attempting to ban electric cars in their state by 2035.
It shouldn’t be a surprise that we’re seeing this. We saw the same happen when ICE cars were introduced over 100 years ago. States drew up actions to throttle enthusiasm for these noisy vehicles and people rejected them as foolish. In one memorable article in the Saturday Evening Post, Alexander Winton recounted how his banker called and berated him about buying a car.
‘My banker called on me to say: “Winton, I am disappointed in you.”
‘That riled me, but I held my temper as I asked, “What’s the matter with you?” He bellowed: “There’s nothing the matter with me. It’s you! You’re crazy if you think this fool contraption you’ve been wasting your time on will ever displace the horse.”
‘From my pocket I took a clipping from the New York World of November 17, 1895, and asked him to read it. He brushed it aside. I insisted. It was an interview with Thomas A. Edison: “Talking of horseless carriage suggests to my mind that the horse is doomed. The bicycle, which, 10 years ago, was a curiosity, is now a necessity. It is found everywhere. Ten years from now you will be able to buy a horseless vehicle for what you would pay today for a wagon and a pair of horses. The money spent in the keep of the horses will be saved and the danger to life will be much reduced.”
‘It is only a question of a short time when the carriages and trucks of every large city will be run by motors. The expense of keeping and feeding horses in a great city like New York is very heavy, and all this will be done away with. You must remember that every invention of this kind which is made adds to the general wealth by introducing a new system of greater economy of force. A great invention which facilitates commerce, enriches a country just as much as the discovery of vast hoards of gold.”’
Skepticism and denial are natural in the face of change. While Wyoming’s legislature is rationalizing why electric cars shouldn’t be brought to their state, the backdrop is that they, like Texas, who is also contemplating anti-electric car legislations, is trying to protect the fossil fuel industry. Their state economies depend on fossil fuels.
In other news, I sometimes just stop reading and turn the page, frustrated and depressed again by the rise of murders, particularly shootings, and the obstinance always flashed whenever reform is addressed. The same lies are given fuel over and over. Meanwhile, the emerging agendas in several states who are trying to stop social change often by suppressing votes and others’ rights, has me thinking of Linda Rontstadt. The Neurons brought up her cover of the song, “You’re No Good” from 1973.
The coffee is half consumed but I might refresh the cup and sip a bit more before facing the cold and going off to the coffee shop to write. Stay positive and enjoy your day, summer, winter, whatever, best that you can. You can complain about it, like I do, but don’t let that stop you from trying.
Tuesday’s note has been plucked, time for us to get up and f —
Yes, it’s Tuesday, January 17, 2023, for those scoring at home. Sunrise here was a minute later and the setting part will be a minute or two later. Slow change is taking place. It’s not really change, of course, except if you look at it with a very narrow aperture. That’s how I view many things taking place in the world today. They’re not really changes, they’re shift back to what they were, following an old orbit of thought. But the orbit will keep going and then we’ll again see the orbit’s other side.
Of course, it’s not exactly the same today as it was last year at this time of year. Nor is it the same as ten or a hundred years ago, despite what it seems. Small, but permanent shifts are found by studying the underlying details affecting the planet’s orbit. In the case of Earth’s days, we know its rotation is slowing. We know the average temperature is climbing, oxygen levels are dropping, and we know these temperature and oxygen results are being affected by human activity. We know days will become longer with the slower rotation and hotter with the slowing rotation. We know the sun is slowly cooling. We know our orbit is decaying and days will grow hotter as we edge toward the sun. We know that methane gases and diminishing glaciers will affect these outcomes. And some of us apparently know that the Earth is flat, and we’re kept from knowing the full truth about it by evil forces who don’t want us to know the truth for their own gain.
We also know that today is 3 degrees Celsius at the mo’, but it’ll climb to 48 degrees Fahrenheit here in Ashlandia. Sunshine has kicked into a satisfactory blaze. Actually, we know that the sun blazes along the same way all the time but clouds, axis tilts, weather pressure, and the Earth’s orbit defines our daily experience. We chose to express it along traditional lines that keep us at the center.
Conversing with Mom remains concerning. She prefers texting over talking on the phone. Her responses are about her many medical problems — heart, lungs, back, eyes, teeth, digestion, balance — upcoming appointments, and what is hurting where and what’s been tried and failed. Tres depressing to continue witnessing her decline and her fight against it. She wants to be there for her grandchildren, but her quality of life continues sliding down a hill, and it’s getting steeper.
After reading of more political contentions, more shootings and deaths, more murders and protests, The Neurons dialed up Elvis Costello and the Attractions’ 1978 cover of “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding” in the morning mental music stream. I enjoy his vocal style for this, but the song also display a pop sound from an earlier era. It’s upbeat tempo is a pleasant salve for rising depression and frustration.
Hope you have a grand day and you make it your way, and I’m not talking about McDonald’s, either. Stay positive. Yes, I dropped the negative test aspect of my daily encouragement to me and you. You’ll probably test negative one of these days but if you the right luck and medical assistance, there’s a hopeful chance you’ll emerged with your health intact.
Okay, I need coffee. Here’s Elvis and the band. Cheers
‘The Bad Old Days’ is the title of Herb Rothschild’s latest book. Not a novel, no. Bloomsbury’s Books in Ashland, Oregon, has an excellent bullet on the book:
“Herbert Rothschild Jr.’s The Bad Old Days: A Decade of Struggling for Justice in Louisiana depicts in vivid detail the kind of local work that transformed the Old South. In this blend of grassroots history and memoir, Rothschild tells story after story of confronting injustice. Engagingly written, his accounts bring to life a world that, while still recognizable, no longer exists as it did when he confronted it.”
Herb will be reading from his book at Bloomsbury’s in Ashland at 7 PM today, Monday, January 16, 2023. Sorry for the short notice but I just found out about it. If you’re in town and interested, stop by. Herb has been an activist for decades and remains a prominent force for change in Oregon’s Rogue Valley. He makes a terrific mulled cider and generously boozes it up. His pumpkin cheesecake is also damn good. Neither will be served tonight; just saying.
The moon’s visit moved beyond normal to sublime. Sometimes a clear night hosts a moon that lights the night and finds something more primal and hopeful in the mind. Last night’s moon was one of these, romantic and inspirational, a moon with light that whispers, “the impossible is possible.” No wonder a moon like that is spoken of in sentences about magic, fairies, and spaceships.
It’s January 16, 2023. It’s Monday. It’s 30 degrees F and sunny. It’s calm. It’s a new week’s start. Happy New Week! Have you made any New Week resolutions? I have. Of course I have. I don’t do NY ones, but I do daily, weekly, and monthly resolutions. You only fail if you give up trying, am I right? Some people place the week’s start on Sunday. I consider Saturday and Sunday neutral ground. The week begins on Monday and ends on Friday.
The sun pressed its presence into our valley at 7:37 this morning, coming around like it’s nobody’s business. Daylight will light us up until about 5:05 this evening. Then the sun will set and bring on dusk, followed by night. The cold front will keep our high from getting much above 42 F. Some say that rain is due but the clouds for that job haven’t checked in. Snow is visible in far fields on high mountains, appearing like cake frosting on the ridges’ pines and firs. It’s a tranquil blue-sky sight.
News continues emerging about President Biden and the classified documents found at his home and office. This turn pisses me off more than Trump’s classified doc scandal. I thought Joe Biden was responsible and this oversight, this sloppiness, is infuriating. I was in the Air Force for twenty years. With high secret clearances and active in special access programs, dealing with classified material, including stuff that was Top Secret with special qualifiers, including nuclear war plans, launch codes, attack plans, and intelligence materials, I was frequently the Top-Secret Control Officer, the unit security manager, and also often the OPSEC/COMSEC and COMPUSEC manager. I took it seriously. My peers, commanders, and those we supervised all took it very damn seriously. I was appointed as an investigator several times when processes failed or people violated the governing regs and laws. Trump’s conniving to keep some classified documents ‘as his own’ insulted our efforts to keep the nation safe by properly protecting such material. Joe Biden’s sloppiness — or worse, as the investigations are only under way — undermines our systems as well. President Biden has at least acknowledged that what has happened is bad, unlike Trump, who dances and shouts, trying to deflect blame and responsibility, squeaking out ridiculous justifications for what he did.
Okay, off the soap box. Today’s music is “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood”. I went with the Animals version of 1964. Besides being the version seared into my memory by radio play repetition, I’ve always liked Eric Burdon. I also enjoyed the band’s keyboard use and the gritty blues sound they brought to their performances. The Neurons decided on this song and put it in the morning mental music stream after conversations with the cats. They were asking for something and I didn’t understand what it was. The felines’ insistence was the final driver for Les Neurons. Listening to them, Eric Burdon’s voice just rose from the depths of memory to sing, “Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.” And there we were.
Try to stay positive. I know it can be tough. I feel less than positive on many days. Right now, I’m positive that I would murder a cup of coffee so I’m heading to the kitchen for that black brew. I’m excited just thinking about it! Here’s the music. Hope your week takes you to new heights. Cheers
Thursday landed on us. It was a soft landing for me. My brooding, dark mood vanished yesterday afternoon.
It’s already 53 F outside. Winds from the southwest have dropped to 16 MPH and they tell us we’ll see 63 F. For reasons such as mountains and valleys, and high and low pressure systems, the atmospheric river swamping California and gifting us almost a full month’s rain quota is going around us now.
Sunrise wasn’t much to crow about. The earlier light was appreciated, coming in at 7:38 this morning, but it was short on the shine penetrating the cloud base. I’m optimistic some shine will clear the clouds before the sun takes it light elsewhere at 5:01 PM.
This is Thursday, January 12, 2023.
Today’s theme music will be a Jeff Beck song. Jeff Beck passed this week, 78 years old. While some people went for singers, looks, or drummers, I was a lead guitarist fan when I was a young teenager. Five me fast fingers and wailing bent notes. Beck was an early name I followed. The man knew his way with a guitar. I haven’t listened to him much in recent years but I have multiple Beck favorites. One that The Neurons pulled into the morning mental music stream was Beck and the Rolling Stones doing “Going Down” in 2012. That song has been covered by a range of guitar artists and bands and is very familiar to me. It’s been part of my mental walking music for yonks. It is good for keeping the feet moving, especially after a long and exhausting climb up, where you finally crest and begin the downslope. Yes, singing, “Going down. Down, down, down, down, down,” in your head as that happens satisfies me. So does this Stone & Beck collaboration.
Stay positive and test negative. The coffee has been drunk. Let the music begin. Cheers
I finished the Christmas jigsaw puzzle. Though she picked it out and suggested we do the puzzle, my wife helped with the edges and then bowed out. I worked on it in evenings and found it a mentally stimulating diversion, which might be the best kind. It’s the first puzzle of 2023, though technically, it was begun in 2022. We found it at our local library of things and will return it after I admire it for a day or two.
Hardest part was the tree. Took a few days. Fireplace was easiest. Last done was the top wood paneling.
Michael Seidel, writer 