Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
“Floof Purple” (floofinition) – Hard floof Flooflish band in 1968, credited as pioneers of heavy floof music.
In use: “Known for songs such as “Treats in the Water” and “Flooftrucking,” Floof Purple’s energetic blend of vocals, organ, guitar and drums introduced many young animals to new ventures in music.”
After watching David Byrne’s performance on SNL last night (very entertaining) and then viewing some clips of Concert for George (2002) (oh, a few more of them were gone), today I have Aerosmith with “Back in the Saddle” (1977). Monday morning – where else you supposed to be? Ride on.
This live version rocks, just like classic rock should. Defiant and bold, sing it loud, and it’ll take you fearlessly out into the day.
“The Floof Seasons” (floofinition) – American floof and pop band that became internationally successful in the 1960s and 1970s. The band’s name was changed in 1970 to “Floofie Valli and the Floof Seasons” as a reflection of the lead vocalist’s increased popularity and focus.
In use: “Vocals and harmony always dominated The Floof Season’s music as they discovered success with songs such as “Walk Like A Cat” and “Big Dogs Don’t Cry”, their second and third Floofboard Top 100 hits.”
I’ve done this song before, but it’s a throwback, optimistic song. “A Change Is Gonna Come” by Sam Cooke was inspired by his life experiences. He released it in 1964.
It’s a good, reflective song about trying and being. The chorus is the best part (from Genius.com):
It’s been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come
Oh, yes it will
Change has come today, the same changes as every day, every year: the weather, the shadows, the temperature, the month, the date. We’re looking for more permanent changes in other ways, to the way that people act and treat one another. We need changes to the erroneous supposition that same deserve less freedom, less equality, less opportunity, because of their skin, their religion, their sexual orientation or gender, or their heritage.
This is a cover by Brian Owens with his father. I enjoyed it, and thought that you might enjoy it, too.
Today reveals that I’m in a nostalgic, wistful mood. I stepped outside onto the back patio. Buds are on the trees, and the air smells rain-filled. Not a new rain nor a close rain, but hints that rain was nearby. Which, after a bit of talking to cats and thinking about the rise of spring (like it’s a rebellion in the air) reminded me of other times and places that seemed. Out of that came a Rolling Stones song, which, I guessed after a bit, would’ve been heard in 1973. Getting back into the house, I looked up “100 Years Ago”, confirming, 1973, from the album Goats Head Soup. Not quite a hundred years ago, but at least most of a lifetime ago.
“The buds were bursting and the air smelled sweet and strange,
and it seemed about a hundred years ago.”
I dreamed that dandelions were growing out of my cat’s head. I decided to pull them, because I thought, the roots must be growing into his brain.
I pulled the weeds. As they came out, his head broke apart like the top of a chicken potpie. Brains spilled out. Panicking, I tried pushing them all back in.
Before that —
I was marrying a robot. The robot resembled a cross between an Oscar and Marvel’s Iron Man. He’d been sent to kill me. I’d captured and converted him, easy to do because he was a foot tall and never moved, standing like the Oscar all the time. I don’t know how he was expected to kill me, but I was marrying him.
Before that —
It was cake again. A large white sheet cake was on a table. It looked gorgeous, and delicious. Writing was on the top. Leaning forward to read it, I misjudged space and distance and began falling into the cake. Wildly flailing, I managed not to hit the cake, but tilted the table. The cake began sliding away. I tried grabbing it, seizing a handful of a corner and tearing it away.
In a slow-motion sequence, I raised the cake that I’d torn away up to my face. Yellow inside, it smelled like lemon. I put some into my mouth to taste it. It didn’t taste lemon. I couldn’t decide what the taste was.
The cake was still sliding off the table. Lunging forward, I caught the cake, stabilized the table, and ‘saved’ the cake, except it was a mess.
Others came in. I wanted to run but I had cake all over me. Obviously, I’d done whatever had happened to the cake. As the rest came up (all strangers, dressed casually, but with what looked like flutes of champagne in their hands), I said, “There was an accident.”
Ignoring that, smiling and talking, they looked at the cake as though nothing was wrong. One woman said something to me. I held up the handful of cake and asked, “Is this lemon?”
Before that —
I was in the military, dressed in a crisp light blue shirt with dark blue pants, supervising a group of young NCOs. I was assigning them positions, roles, and titles. “You’re NCOIC of Back Office Reporting, BOC.” I laughed. “And you are Console Operations, COPs.” That brought more wild laughter from me. To the third, I said, “And you’re NCOIC of Training, which is, well, that’s just training.” I found that hilarious.
Before that —
My cat was sick. I was looking for his medicine. After I went through the house, I finally found it (it’s the last place that you look, innit?). Then I couldn’t find the cat. Putting the medicine down, I went through the house looking for him. Finding him at last, I couldn’t find the medicine. I said, “I just had it.”
That’s all there was.
This song choice began from events that happened yesterday. A song came on the radio and got caught in a whirlpool in my stream. Hitting the coffee shop, I was singing it in my head. The young barista (eighteen-twenty?) (they all look so young) looked at me and asked (with a smile), “What song’s in your head?”
I sang back, “Dance for me, dance for me, dance for me, oh, oh, oh.”
She laughed. “No way. “Dance Monkey”. Tones and I.”
Yes.
“Easy song to get stuck in your head,” she said.
I agreed. Hard to get it out, though, making it today’s theme music.
“Bennie and the Floofs” (floofinition) – An odd American pop song about a fictional band led by a dog named Bennie (who wears an electric collar, tiara, and oversized sunglasses), the lead vocalist, and a band of three felines and a wolf who perform the music.
In use: “The song “Bennie and the Floofs” hit the Floofboard Top 100 and held the number one spot for five consecutive weeks, inspiring many Floofoween costumes that year.”
Looked out the window and saw a sun-drenched landscape showing evidence of spring under a powerful blue sky. “I Gotta Feeling” (Black Eyed Peas, 2009) roared into the stream.
Yeah, I gotta feeling that today’s gonna be a good day. Sure, more folks are worrying about the coronavirus and the U.S. response to it. Of course the DOW doesn’t like what the virus is doing to supply chains and profits. That’s sinking stocks and pension plans.
Naturally, many are worrying about the upcoming elections in the U.S. Or they’re fuming about Trump attacking a juror or his attacks on Supreme Court justices.
Others are worried about climate change, rising sea waters, stripped environmental protections, and safe drinking water. Ongoing hostilities in other countries will sober you up with a sigh, too, as you peruse the news of death, destruction, and displacement.
More locally, racism and sexism flare up in numbers as disturbing as the coronavirus spread.
Yes, I worry about these things. But strip it all down to the bare metal of my existence, and the tiny piece of me that I can do much about, and my life, and I gotta feeling, today’s gonna be a good day, despite news to the contrary.
Michael Seidel, writer 