Monday’s Theme Music
Another milestone reached, because it’s another ‘t’ day. Yes, it’s today, April 4, 2022, a Monday, a new start to a new week, if you’re one of those who think of Monday as the first day of the week. I do, at least for today.
It’s rainy and chilly outside. Poured hard earlier, drumming on the roof and the vents, transporting us to a rock concert drum solo. Nice being inside, safe and warm, listening to the rain. I wish everyone in the world had such simple luxury, shelter, and security.
The theoretical sunrise, theoretical because the clouds were saying, “Nope, not this morning, no sunshine for you, Ashland,” was at 6:49 this morning while sunset, if we see it, will be at 7:40 PM. It’s now 42 degrees F. We might see 50 today.
Today’s song comes out of reflections for the cat who passed away last month. I miss him and his energy still fills the house while his memory is sharp in our minds, but, you know, he was enduring heavy pain and discomfort by the end. You know how it is; you miss them but you’re happy they’re free of their disease’s chains. You promise to meet up again sometime, somewhere, and wonder, can that be true? Is that possible?
So, it’s mixed emotions with which his passing is viewed. Hearing that, the sleepy neurons were like, “What? Mixed Emotions. Rolling Stones. 1989. Here we go.” I answered, no, no, I wasn’t asking for that to be played.
Well, here we are. The neurons won.
The song has a nice guitar-driven throwback for the Stones. It could easily be from the late sixties or early seventies instead of the late eighties. They were, are, an enduring band.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, etc. We’ve made plans for our next booster this week. Take care of yourself. Now, the neurons are demanded they be paid in coffee for their work, so I’m a mission to the kitchen. Here’s the tune. Cheers
Sunday’s Theme Music
4/3/2022, A Sunday, with a lazy, milquetoast sun, and a low energy motor. April’s first Sunday is gonna be mellow, it proclaims. Were this a thriller or murder mystery, or a disaster film, something would happen to shake the calm and enliven the day with screams. So far, nothing — but it’s early.
Not that I want it. I have coffee. Would prefer to just motor on in a quiet way.
Temperature is a chilly 42, and yes, others say, I’ll take that, because they’re freezing their butts off or dealing with snow. I hear you, and I understand. Supposed to reach 62 F here. The sun wandered in at 6:50 AM, scratching itself, mumbling “Whatssup,” through a yawn. It’ll wander back away at 7:39 PM. The clouds, like the sun and me, seem to lack the energy to be more than a white wisp of stretched thought, the kind of thinking when you say, “I’m hungry,” and someone else asks you, “What do you want to eat,” and you answer, “I don’t know.”
The neurons continue messing with my head. I don’t know what I’ve ever done to them but they’re a bit cranky, energetic and lazy at the same time, like sullen teenagers feeling their hormones and wandering what to do with them. First the neurons pushed Olivia Newton John music on me — “Have you never been mellow” — followed by Melanie singing, “Look what they’ve done to my song, ma,” followed by the German version that was a larger hit. I mumbled something about needing change, fast. The neurons responded with impressive speed, playing the Ramones, “Do You Remember Rock ‘n’ Roll Radio?” from 1980. It’s not speeding around and around the morning mental music stream like race cars at the Indy 500.
Got my coffee, yeah. Stay positive, test negative, and so on. Reading a novel where their future mentions in passing, COVID-19, COVID-23, and COVID-27. It’s a startling thing to do in passing.
Here’s the music. Cheers
Saturday’s Theme Music
Sunshine petered into our valley for an hour and then the sun crested the mountains like a shining spring bloom.
Hi. Today is Saturday, March 33, 2022, or April 2, for the purists. We’re already at 52 degrees F today after the sun hit the valley with its warm light at 6:52 AM. The sun will ride our sky until 7:38 PM, pulling our temperatures up to a high of 66 F. No rain today; not a cloud in the sky right now.
The neurons continue having fun with me. This morning, out of nowhere, and I’m serious about that, it came from nowhere, they began singing a song called “98.6”. Released when I was a child, I had to search for who sang the song and the year. I was clueless about both. I know it sounds like a humbrag — and yeah, it is — but music is usually weirdly fastened to me via space and time, like details about who I was and where at the time I regularly heard the song, friends’ reactions to it, etc., along with the artist. But for this one, I knew I was a kid, and the lyrics were just sucked up. Of course, the lyrics are smooth and easy, following a simple rhythm, so I suppose that’s understandable. Turned out the song was released by Keith in 1966. I was ten. Such a different sound to pop in that era, innit?
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the jabs when needed. We are searching for another booster, and we’re still masking when in stores, etc. We’re not alone in that, either.
Here’s the music, which means it’s coffee time. Cheers
Friday’s Theme Music
Let us turn the page. Turning a calendar page has a waning crowd. It’s like spending a dime. Dropping the penny. Looking a gift horse in the mouth or having a pig in a poke.
Today is April 1, 2022, Friday. Sun’s first light was peeping into the valley well before our official kickoff at 6:51 this morning. Clouds have faded into high pale shadows of themselves, trickles of white braced against a hazy blue field. Temperatures dropped to 33 F last night, driving the cats back in — well, just the one really, as the other is older and has decided he prefers indoor life and firm sunshine over the cold dark. We’re now up to 44, though, and expect the mercury to reach 66 as our high. Do young people understand temperature and our links to mercury references?
Which delivers me to the morning mental music stream. A friend referred to “The Chain” by Fleetwood Mac from 1977 the other night. Inspired by being outside last night, listening to the wind blow as shadows and darkness took over after sunset, the neurons began playing the song for me. They have yet to stop. Oh, those crazy neurons.
Here’s the song. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, etc. We’re on the hunt for a second booster. We were originally J&Jers and my wife is immunocompromised. Every small edge is pursued and appreciated. It’s not ready to be delivered yet, as no one in the valley has it available, except Walgreen’s in Medford. We’ll keep looking, calling, searching, etc.
Speaking of appreciation, I think I’ll go get my coffee. The neurons will appreciate it.
Cheers
Thursday’s Theme Music
Here we go, the end of the month, Thursday, March 31, 2022. About a quarter of 2022 has fled into history. Gray cloud layers in the west fondle the pines on the ridges. Broken clouds up north hover like an anxious herd ready to flee. In the east and south, smaller, tattered pats yield to sunshine and blue sky. Are you up for rain? It might come. Might not, too. Just be a brief spit, probably, if it does.
Sunshine trickled in at 6:55 AM. The sun will do the fade at 7:35 this evening. Temperatures hunker in at 44 F right now, with a cold, northern edge to it, like winter is saying, let me stay. A high of 58, not too ambitious, is possible.
I went out with the cats this morning to feel the air. They found sun pools and stayed. I shivered and slipped back in. Somehow, in that process, the neurons decided “Take Me to the Pilot” by Elton John (1970) fit the moment and inserted it into the morning mental music stream.
Stay positive, etc. Sorry, I need my coffee. Here’s the song. Cheers
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Mottled gray nimbostratus clouds stretched across the valley from the mountains and ridges on this Wednesday. The clouds and news cycles leave me feeling gray and tired. It’s mid-week, too, the end of a wearying month, a week out from a trying week. My complaints are first world mutterings about losing friends, the weather, inflation, oh, and what will I do with myself today? It’s darker times for too, too many people. Damn, shouldn’t really write these things until I’ve had some coffee, done a Wordle and a Sudoku. Doing those always gives me a boost, as if successfully solving these silly games can be applied to life, to the world situations. I feel like the fool upon the hill.
It’s March 30, 2022, March’s penultimate day, then April takes the stage. I’m holding my breath to see what she might bring.
Sunrise kicked in at 6:57 AM and sunset will be at 7:34 PM. Temperatures have dipped again under the umbrella of rain ruling the area. The temperature is 46 and the high will be 56 F.
My dream mind was busy creating complex scenarios full of bright colors. I was not young in these dreams. Numbers were prominent features. Scribbling them out left my fingers knotted and my mind busy, trying to figure out WTF is going on in my head.
Of course, I’m writing. I’m in that stage of my novel writing process where scenes and ideas leap into the concept, which is still the broadest of sketchiest ideas. Thirteen characters are on hand, plus two cats and three dogs, and the ship. All of the characters have become someone other than expected when I sketched their basics in my head and documents. Like the muses are sticking their tongues out at me, taunting, “You don’t know anything.” They’re right. Every leap and change encountered makes me ask, “Wait, why.” They reply, “Just write. The answer will come.” I don’t know that I have that much faith or courage. Still, it’s an entertaining, satisfying, challenging, frustrating, exciting, despairing, exhausting process. I highly recommend it.
Hah. Had to break off writing this to attend a floof request. Immediately began writing in my head; the muses instantly said, okay, now this happens. I said, “WTF? Seriously?” Yeah, they answer. Yeah.
As you might imagine, the morning mental music stream is busy this AM, too. Looking out windows, thinking about writing, dreams, weather, mood, news, past, and future, I saw so many birds busy with spring rites. Jays, robins, sparrows, finches, wrens, crows were all energetic. Bit uplifting. Out of that morass came a Nelly Furtado song, “I’m Like A Bird” (2000). Where her song is about flying away and flying around, my thoughts are more about rising and falling with the beatings of wings, following a course when it seems like everything is a whim.
Stay positive, test negative — do you know this one? Good. Here’s the music. Excuse me while I see the coffee man for a fix.
Cheers
Tuesday’s Theme Music
We’ve reached another milestone, a day that ends in ‘y’. This one is a Tuesday.
It’s March 29, 2022, for those of you playing calendar bingo. Sunrise came at — ta da! — 6:59 AM. Sunset will be at 7:33 PM.
A weak sunrise was experienced, one like a cup of tea made with a tea bag that’s already serviced a dozen cups as tattered rain clouds still harrumphed across the blue. We had a few stretches of steady rain yesterday, one bit of that which hit five on the Floof Scale. I always use the Floof Scale to measure precipitation. A five meant, find cover, it’s coming down. Ten is head for high ground and hang on.
Average spring temperatures remain the norm. The digits sit at 48 F now. We expect 67 F today. Back out to weed this afternoon.
Today’s music was brought on by yesterday’s writing session. I’d been finger dancing on a kb for a while as the muses whipped my back and urged more writing, faster. Stopping for a breath, I discovered the digits said it was almost four PM. The day had slid past in a word sprawl. The neurons, catching on to my surprise about the time, began singing, “Time, time, ticking, ticking away,” repeating that chorus. They were testing me, of course. “The Last Worthless Evening”, Don Henly, 1988, The End of the Innocence, I told my neurons. To reward me for getting it right, they started playing the song, and now it’s stuck in the morning mental music stream.
Stay positive, test negative, and remain alert to what’s going on. Here’s the music. I’m gonna go treat the neurons to a cuppa java. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 