Fog dismays me outside the window, blocking the sun and keeping us chill between its icy fingers, shutting me out from even seeing beyond the houses across the street. I know the sun is out there, first from learned science from my early childhood years, but also from a glimmer of light warring with the gray at the spot where the sun should be. Could be aliens coming to get my coffee, I suppose, but I’m keeping my money on the sun.
It’s November 12, 2023, and Sunday. About to go out and start the writing day but enthusiasm cringes in the face of the fog and 37 F temperature. Supposed to warm up to 58 F but first that sun needs to hammer its heat beat over that fog until the latter fades.
Le chats sure don’t like it, with the number one boy, Tucker, immediately returning from outside with a ‘screw-this-noise’ expression. He’s folded his black and white fur back in bed. Papi, always more stubborn and independent — he is an orange boi — tried to prove what a floof of the wild he is but his path always came back to the door, and quickly. In and out four times, he finally admitted, enough, and is not resting on the sofa after those exhausting forays.
If such creatures as these mighty housepets couldn’t withstand the weather, what hope do I, a mere mortal, hold? Well, for one, I have a coat and gloves, garments which they resist. Two, I won’t be out there long, not in the actual outdoors. I’ll hustle the car from the garage to the coffee shop parking lot and then shift my derriere’s load from the car to the building. There will be walks later, but it does have some measure on dependence about what the sun, fog, and temp do.
With fog stealing the sunshine, The Neurons thought it would be fun to play Len and “Steal My Sunshine” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark indestructible). Coming out in 1999, the song was the group’s big hit. I haven’t heard it in a car’s age at least, so The Neurons’ ability to shift it from my mind’s stasis to the active region surprised me.
Len — who are a brother and sister combo — have a lot of fun with words. Take this example.
Good afternoon. Getting around a little late to this posting today. I dibble and dabbled the morning away, dashing up and down the Interstate and around town during late morning and early afternoon before returning home for naps and reading for a few hours.
It’s November 11, 2023, Saturday and Veteran’s Day. Awoke to a new battle between a feeble sun trying to crawl through chilly gray fog to reach us. Finally worked after a few hours, lifting us from about forty up to a skin scorching 55 F. Bazinga.
As we went zipped about town today, we had lunch and then began joking about our energy levels. “We used to be younger,” my wife and I teased one another. Yes, we used to be crazy, and we used to be fun. Now we’re prudent from mistakes made and lessons learned. Well, with happenstance, we turned off NPR games to pop on the car’s FM radio, and there was Miley Cyrus, repeating our words back at us.
We laughed and my spouse mentioned how much she enjoys the Miley Cyrus song, “Used To Be Crazy”, which came out earlier in 2023. And then I started wondering, when exactly did we start talking about when we were young? I think it was when I was in my forties, which is now about twenty years ago, depending on where the marker in my forties is thrown down, but I can’t verify it without a time machine. But how often do we mourn the passage of our youth and the new people which we end up being? We reflect on how our metabolism drops lower and lower, and with it often goes our energy levels, and maybe our attention levels. I also mourn hair loss and how many body shape has change, and oh, yeah, that hair has grayed and thinned. Were wrinkles mentioned? I forget.
I won’t say that I’ll never be the person I used to be. Techology may surprise us in new ways, like cloning a new version of Michael that I can inhabit with life memories and acquired knowledge intact, which could be pretty cool. Or perhaps an invention that comes along which washes out old cells and blows us out clean and fresh once again, even tailoring the result into which age we’ll like to be. I think I’d like to be 32 again.
Oh, well. This is the shit that is us, and such is life.
Stay positive, be strong and brave, and keep leaning forward. This concludes this portion of my posting day. Here’s the video. Cheers
Friday has dropped in for its weekly visit, a little jaunty and restless, lookin’ for something to do.
It’s November 10, 2023, in Ashlandia, where the duck ponds are quiet and the park is still. 44 F now, sunshine has dropped it down a notch but still holds the sky, though high thin white clouds lurk, contemplating the valley, planning some kind of mood. Today’s high temperature will theoretically beat the mid to high eighties. Something similiar was rolled out yesterday but with the fog giving us a long, tight hug, it took a long time for the mid fifties to be breached. By then, the sun was beginning to take its shine elsewhere and close for the day.
In a bright spot for today, just 45 days until Christmas.
We had a good laugh the other night in my beer clatch, reminiscing about Trumpisms DJT blurted during his trial. Favorite among the ten of us hands down was his comment talking about why he didn’t receive (accounting) statements in 2021, “I was so busy in the White House with China, Russia, and keeping the country safe.” Wallace, the prosecuting attorney questioning him, “You were not the president in 2021.”
In another bizarre moment, Trump wrote, “Got a really Biased, Nasty, Club controlled, but often overturned, Judge, a Racist, Evil, and Corrupt Attorney General, BUT A CASE THAT, ACCORDING TO ALMOST ALL LEGAL SCHOLARS, HAS ZERO MERIT. A dark day for our Country. WITCH HUNT!”
The CAPS are all his because, like a child throwing a tantrum, he likes shouting. But I agree with him, it’s a dark day for the country, when day after day, Trump is out there spouting crap without evidence, making dramatic declarations with little basis in reality. A lot of it seems projection by Trump about the things he does, trying to pin it on others; we have evidence of Trump being biased, nasty, racist, evil, and corrupt, willing to pursue witch hunts. I think he shows himself to be these things every day.
But what’s saddest and makes it darkest for us is how many people continue supporting him. Of course, it’s not about the bible, nor truth. The majority of Trump supporters aren’t interested in democracy or this nation; these fascists are about keeping their man and party in power so they can glean whatever pathetic privileges and rights they can muster over others, to prop up their tiny minds and retro view of the world. Rachel Maddow was talking about that in an interview about her new book, Prequel.
With all this being thought about, The Neurons furnished the morning mental music stream (Trademark sinking) with The Doors and “People Are Strange”. Seems apt when I’m thinking about Trump and the MAGAs and Republicans who support him.
Stay pos, be real and strong, and keep leaning forward. Here we go, launching into the waves of the day. Enjoy the music, please. I will as I sip some hot, fresh coffee. Cheers, my friends. Cheers
It started with the quote in the graphics on the coffee shop tip jar and the question, “Who wrote this?”
I admitted, I didn’t know it, though The Neurons declared that they knew it and would deliver the author’s name if I just gave them more time. Already shifting into my own writing mode, I rebuffed their request.
Two days later, the situation has been modified. Now, the quote is above two tip jars. On one jar, it says, “Taylor Swift” while the other is annotated, “Shakespeare”. Apparently,
It’s Shakespeare, of course, Sonnet 65, which The Neurons again insisted they could have told me if I’d given them some time to think. Meanwhile, the baristas informed me that several customers guessed it was Taylor Swift. Hence, the change.
I admire this sonnet:
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o’er-sways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O, how shall summer’s honey breath hold out Against the wreckful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays? O fearful meditation! where, alack, Shall Time’s best jewel from Time’s chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? O, none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright.
Thursday, November 9, 2023, has come to have its say in what happens and how it happens with little clear explanation about why it happens. Many people like muddying the clarifications about why things happen because they dislike those explanations. Angers them because they can’t grasp the explanation, so if they can’t understand, why should anyone else? Shut it down; hide it; don’t teach it. Make it a mystery, so they can smugly say, “Nobody knows.”
Down to 34 last night in Ashlandia, where the schools are first rate and the arts and athletics are above average, it’s forty and foggy now as frost covers the bare ground and glazes some grasses. Don’t you worry, though; partly sunny skies will see us through to 57 F by daylights end. The remains of the day will deliver us back into darkness and 37 F.
When I awoke this morning, I opened a window blind. Soft dawn was crawling white through the trees and across the yard. Among the denuded poplar branches, a hummingbird hovered for a few seconds and then zinged away.
The hummingbird’s appearance surprised me. Cold, mid-autumn, winter hustling toward us, I figured hummingbirds would have better places to be.
Meanwhile, Tucker the magnificent (which is the mixed long-haired/short-haired cat’s official title) rose, ate, used the litter box, and went back to bed. Papi, the ginger blade feline floof, went out, declared it too cold, came in, declared himself bored, went back out, declared it too cold, came in, declared himself bored, went out, declared it too cold…get it?
I was outside at midnight last night. Clouds and moon were absent, letting the stars and other celestial bodies take a turn at shiny. Beautiful and serene with clear fresh air, but the black night was hugely cold to my body, driving me into my shelter after just five minutes of standing outside and thinking.
Somewhere in the night, I thought about the GOP – Right Wing – MAGA approach to governing and education. Limitations are the key the their approach. They will not accept anything being taught except what they like and understand as history, which is very, very narrowly defined. Their version of history must not show our nation or white people in a dark light. Our nation is good, because, come on, it’s christian, you know, one god, and all that, as the Founding Fathers so ordered, amIright? In their view, slavery was a good thing: sure people were locked up, traded, and beaten, but they were taught trades and given food and shelter. Surely that’s enough, so don’t dare teach that slaveowners were cruel bastards who often raped slave women and treated slaves worse than animals, unworthy of human rights.
It seems like they take the same approach to anything other than two sexes, male and female, whether it’s in gender or sexual preference. That’s what the bible says, they say, so they must be right.
They only want – no, they only accept – one religion, their version of christianity, and their god, a white, benevolent man who knows everything and is the only deliverer of knowledge, justice, and love. Such a god can’t have ideas about other religions and philosophies, so they can’t be taught because they’re not in their religious book, and their tiny minds can’t brook anything other than what their little black book says, even if they only follow the parts of the little black book that THEY like. Screw the rest of that silly, ancient black book, they decide by action, even if they won’t say it. Like, what’s that whole thing about loving thy brother, turning the other cheek, and that whole thing about bankers and rich men being in the temples and entering ‘the kingdom of heaven?’
“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.” But, but, capitalism! We are a christian nation, and can’t have rules and regulations which limit our abilities to exploit others and grow wealthier. We’re Capitalists!
“Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.”
I’m sure wealthy Americans plan to do that after they die, right? Until then, they will donate to charities which support their principles to grow wealthier, as long as it’s tax deductible.
Meanwhile, it’s not the government’s job to take care of anyone else, not in our christian nation. No! That encourages laziness. If they’re lazy, they won’t work for others for low pay so companies and the wealthy can make more money. No, no, no. And if companies pay them too much, then the companies will make less profit, and the shareholders will make less money, and the rich executives won’t be able to collect larger bonuses and buy more beautiful, pretty things for themselves, like mansions, vacation homes, jets, cars, and yachts. So pay for the lower classes must be kept low, for so it’s written in the bible…innit?
It all falls back on education then. Limit what is taught or don’t teach them at all beyond the basics of following instructions. That’s all that’s needed.
All that has me and The Neurons singing Pink Floyd’s mashup from The Wall in the morning mental music stream (Trademark unavoidable). See, the way it goes in The Neurons’ view, the Right Wing dictates and limits what will be taught in school, threatening the school systems and teachers with punishment if they don’t adhere and obey (exhibit A: Florida; B: Texas; C: Wisconsin. Etc.). They want perfect little white children (some blacks might be acceptable, as long as they adhere to the doctrine), all male or female – and nothing else because the bible! (And then they descend into lies about what those ‘other’ so-called sexes do, and how evil they are.) Because, see, they don’t understand. And if they don’t understand, they can’t accept. And if they can’t understand and accept, why should anyone else?
Under the GOP plan, aided by the misnamed “Moms for Liberty” who are all about censorship, which as Matthew Perry imight have said as Chandler Bing on Friends, “Can anything be more anti-liberty than stopping what other people read?”, schools become mills to turn out perfectly ignorant, intolerant, non-thinking little images of their white, bible-thumping masters. And the teachers will be the ones molding these little monsters of tomorrow, so long as the teachers adhere to the doctrine, don’t think, and obey the rules, which they will, or the GOP will beat, intimidate, and incriminate the teachers.
Because anything other than the GOP curriculum is ‘woke’, and that’s communist, socialist, thought control.
See how they turn it on its head? It’s no wonder that the GOP and its christians put its greatest faith in trying to build walls.
Stay positive and woke, be strong, and lean forward for others’ rights and freedoms as well as your own. Coffee is now at hand and warming my innards. Here’s the video.
Wednesday, November 8, 2023, dropped upon us with an unmusical clang. The noise was sufficient to blow some clouds out of the valley and stir clumps of fading mouldering leaves. 44 F now, up from 36 F, it’ll reach 58 F in Ashlandia, where trees are common and the leaves are above average.
I’ve been absorbing the election news, nagivating between dramatic headlines, trying to reach the meat of matters. Other stories pulled me in, like a candidate dying at the polling station, a five-year-old girl found hidden in a nailed closet hideaway in Arkansas, an earthquake in Texas, forty dead in flooding in Kenya and Somalia, and man bites crocodile. It’s a lot of news to take in and I think coffee will be needed to wash it all down.
News alerted The Neurons to a 1978 song off the Boston Don’t Look Back album. A friend, Randy, loved this band and this album, and would play it all the time when he wasn’t playing Van Halen or watching Atlanta Braves baseball. Mind you, the album was over ten years old before I met Randy. But the song in the morning mental music stream (Trademark stolen), “Used to Bad News”, has that classic Boston smooth guitar, keyboards, strong pop vocals, and flowing, anchoring bass, so I undertood why Randy liked it. A little too full of cliches for me but that can be overlooked once in a while.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and don’t look back. Coffee is working its way through my systems, making The Neurons happy and priming them to start the day. Here we go. Enjoy the video. Cheers
Despite a cloudy presence, it’s a sunny Tuesday, November 7, 2023. An election day in many precincts, we’re not voting on anything this year in Ashlandia, where the voters are blue with purple tints and mostly retired professionals. It’s 49 F now with plans to burst into the low fifties, perhaps even hitting up to 53 F. Woo – break out the shorts and tank tops.
Do people still wear tank tops?
My clothes amused me today after I dressed. They were so funny, cracking jokes among themselves. Yeah, I need to say that information differently: The Neurons pointed out how old my wardrobe is, amusing me. Like, the jacket was purchased in San Francisco at Macy’s in December, 2005, during a trip to the city from our new home in Oregon to visit with friends and hear some blues at a club. Pants, underwear, and socks are fairly new at four ~ five years, but my brown Nunn Bush shoes are over twenty-five years old, which strikes me as impossible. And they still fit and are amazingly comfortable. Just a little older than the shoes is the Arrows shirt, purchased at the Naval Air Station Moffett Field Exchange back in 1996.
Weird what memories stay sharp in the mind. Adding it all up, I’m an old clothes man who will never be accused of being a fashion plate. Oh, well.
I keep finding pieces of kibble at odd places in the house, such as the bedroom hallway, in the living room by the television, and in the office. I normally pick them up and toss them away. Yesterday, though, I saw Papi, the ginger blade, come up, sniff the kibble, look around, and then head for the feeding station. That put it all into context: these kibble pieces are not lost or misplaced, but precisely located elements of the KPS, the shorthand for the Kibble Positioning System. Consulting the KPS provides the floof about food locations. The floofs have such amazing technology, yeah?
The Neurons knocked me back with the music they slotted into the morning mental music stream (Trademark fishy). I was in the kitchen, minding my own business, getting on with needs. Having fed the house floofs, I’m preparing my own brekkie when I hear, “Words can’t bring me down.” Within a heartbeat or two, I’m hearing more of Christina Aguilera singing “Beautiful” from 2002.
Why this song today? I asked Der Neurons.
No, they didn’t respond, but I knew that it was about words. First, words in the news about polls, politics, and elections; then words about wars, killings, and death; and finally, words in my novel-in-process and where it stands and what I’m gonna do with it next.
It’s such a strong and lovely song, though, well sung and produced, I’m happy with it in the MMMS.
Every day is so wonderful Then suddenly it’s hard to breathe Now and then I get insecure From all the pain, I’m so ashamed
I am beautiful no matter what they say Words can’t bring me down I am beautiful in every single way Yes, words can’t bring me down… Oh no So don’t you bring me down today
To all your friends you’re delirious So consumed in all your doom Trying hard to fill the emptiness The pieces gone, left the puzzle undone Is that the way it is?
You are beautiful no matter what they say Words can’t bring you down…oh no You are beautiful in every single way Yes, words can’t bring you down, oh, no So don’t you bring me down today
No matter what we do (No matter what we do) No matter what we say (No matter what we say) We’re the song inside the tune Full of beautiful mistakes
And everywhere we go (And everywhere we go) The sun will always shine (The sun will always, always shine) And tomorrow we might wake on the other side
We are beautiful no matter what they say Yes, words won’t bring us down, no, no We are beautiful in every single way Yes, words can’t bring us down, oh, no So don’t you bring me down today
Oh, yeah, don’t you bring me down today, yeah, ooh Don’t you bring me down ooh… today
It’s a song worth listening to and thinking about. I hope you’ll listen and agree.
On to the day. Stay pos, be strong, lean forward, and remember that you’re beautiful. Coffee is at hand once again to bolster my will. Here’s the video. Cheers
It’s Monday again, but it’s a fresh November 6, 2023.
Sounding much like a pot of hard boiling water, rain splattered us all night, leaving jeweled drops on the windows of Ashlandia, where the air is above average when there’s no wildfire smoke polluting it. Temperature now is 51 F and today’s high means the thermometer will need to climb ten more degrees. Tomorrow will deliver a colder set, 37 F and 52 F, low and high.
For music, I listened to some of the new Stones album last night, Hackneyed Diamonds.I played the song, “Sweet Sounds of Heaven” again this morning. The Neurons liked it enough to keep it pumping around the morning mental music stream (Trademark crumpled) through the rest of the morning. Don’t know if you’ve heard it but I find it pretty typical Stones material, layered with blues, gospel, and rock and roll. Lovely tinkling piano riffs carry some bridges while Stones guitarists dance notes around Mick’s singing. Then Lady Gaga joins the group and the energy soars to stratospheric levels. The song goes from a solemn, reflective mood to a defiant declaration.
Stay pos, be cool, remain strong, and lean forward. I’ll endeavor to the same. But first, coffee, I think, right? Here’s the video.
Sunshine clashes with multi-layered grey clouds over Ashlandia, where the weather is variable and the people are resigned.
It’s Sunday, November 5, 2023, and 57 F degrees, close to the projected high of 62 F. Was raining a short while ago, not a ‘oh-no-the-flood-is-coming rain’, but a light shower that had the cats curled up outside with their heads up asking, “What’s making that sound?”
We did the deed of turning the clocks back. I prefer that expression, ‘turning the clocks back’, over ‘setting back’ or ‘falling back’. Setting back sounds like something has gone wrong. Some wags will declare, “Well, that’s exactly what all this Daylight Savings Time clock changing is about. It’s government control and regulation gone wrong. We don’t need it.” Falling back feels like we’re retreating, as in, “Everyone fall back. Retreat.” So I will go with turning the clocks back, if and when I remember.
By Dog, I did enjoy the extra hour of sleep. When I first rose and saw the time, I thought, oh, please, just give me a little more sleep. Then I realized, hey, time change, and dove back to bed, pleasing one cat (Tucker) and dismaying the other (Papi). Papi doesn’t give a damn about any time but his own, and no schedule but his own. (Neither does Tucker, but Tucker likes cozying up to people in bed.) Seeing me go back to bed made Papi’s little face fall as he realized that he wasn’t getting his wet food breakfast yet.
Given that time was on my mind this morning, it’s not surprise that The Neurons began playing time-oriented music. I can list multiple songs that entered the morning mental music stream (Trademark derisive) as I stumbled in and out of light dozing with Tucker purring in my ear, but the song that finally found a firm grip in the MMMS is “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” by Green Day. Some people will know this gentle, reflective song from Seinfeld‘s penultimate episode, but I know it from driving around the SF Bay area when the song was released in 1997 back and forth to work or out shopping. Although the song has such a sentimental and nostalgic air, it’s about a breakup with a girlfriend who moved to another country. In that light, with the “Good Riddance” aspect of the title, you realize that the singer is being sarcastic. That actually makes more sense for its inclusion in the Seinfeld‘s episode; Jerry never wanted any sentimentality on the show, although it seems to me that the montage shown as the song played was completely sentimental.
Stay pos, be friendly, strong, and optimistic, and lean forward. With coffee safely in hand yet again, I’ll try doing the same and maybe we’ll meet on some future date and place where we say to each other, “Isn’t this great?” Here’s the video. Cheers
It’s Saturday again in Ashlandia, where time just goes round and round, it seems, November 4, 2023, by date. 60 F outside after a rainy night, a hefty wind moves colorful leaves as clouds regroup on the horizons, leaving sunny blue sky overhead. Our high today will be 69 F.
Reading the news, reflecting upon how often history does repeat itself, pondering what is and what will never be, The Neurons permit Willie Nelson into the morning mental music stream (Trademark fading). In 1961, Willie wrote a song called “Funny How Time Slips Away”. I became familiar with it sometime during my childhood. Many performers and groups have sung this song since Willie first put the words down. This version by him singing on a stage, surrounded by others, broadcast in 1997, is one of my favorite renditions. Willie always sings from the heart with a thoughtful air.
Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward, no matter how that wind blows. Coffee is being served up, per standard household practice. I hope you enjoy the video and song as much as I do. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 