Category: Thinking, thinking

Monday’s Theme Music

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday –

It goes round and round with stifling tedium.

We travelers through time and space have landed on Monday. It’s May 1, 2023. As we expected. As ‘they’ planned it. Not sure if ‘they’ are Gods, Fates, machines, or some alien life form.

It’s cold today here. Our warm spell of sprummer has petered out. The autosystem has switched us to spring mode. 47 F now, the weather predictors tell us look for clouds. Check, got clouds. Ain’t no sunshine out there. High in the mid sixties Fahrenheit, and rain. We’ll wait and see, but they seem to have it right.

Finally got the new cable modem activated today. Called them up, read customer care the MAC and then waited for the cycle.

We live in the small town of Ashlandia in southern Oregon and use the local Internet provider. Town owns it and we’re trying to support the town. That means the minor sacrifice of not having a 24/7 response team. Shrug. How it goes. We went old school for the weekend, well, quasi old school, sneaking off to find public nets and use them to check email, post, catch up on news and games, lol. We also read, cleaned house, talked, and – gasp – watched over-the-air television.

Watching television was a hoot. We’ve been streaming over a decade. Turn on local channels for weather and local news, which is thinly and poorly reported. Just not enough money in it for the traditional local TV revenue stream. Change, right? There are whole channels dedicated to television shows from the day of yore. There’s a block of ‘war’ shows – Rat Patrol, Twelve O’Clock High, Black Sheep, Combat, etc. Another block is about westerns with Gunsmoke, Have Gun Will Travel, The Bounty Hunter, Wagon Train. It’s a true hoot visiting these blocks. Sometimes I wince at what I used to watch. Production values have improved, but they entertained me when I was young. Naturally, we also watched an episode of the original Star Trek.

For music, I have “Take it to the Limit” by the Eagles from 1975 in the morning mental music stream. The Neurons put it in the morning mental music stream while I was hustled through the house for the bathroom this morning. I don’t want to connect any dots there, though.

I’ve had coffee and brekkie. Getting ready to head to the coffee shop and begin round four of editing and revising The Light of Memories. You have a good one and try to stay pos. I’ll do the same. Here’s the Eagles.

Cheers

1

The Writing Moment

I finished the third round of revision and editing for The Light of Memories. Don’t think the title is ever mentioned in the book BTW. When I read the last chapter, a short but sturdy creature, I cried. Not sure if the crying was for the character, ending, or being done with the process again. There I was at the coffee shop, a few years short of seventy, looking at my laptop and struggling against tears. Fortunately, I don’t think anyone noticed because I’m a man a few years short of seventy at a coffee shop.

I saved the doc and closed it, and then resumed writing another novel. I don’t know if time waits for anyone but I do know that when the muses say jump, I jump and then ask, “How high?”

1

Sunday’s Theme Music

Spring is flirting with summer. It’s 60 now, but isn’t expected to be as warm as yesterday’s 83 F. Temperatures this week will be dropping. Rain is expected this week. It’s the last day of April, 2023 – 4/30/23 – and Sunday. Sunrise was between letting Papi out and letting him back in, sometime around six AM. Sunrise will come later, when it starts getting dark. Days like these are known as sprummer.

Fire south of us near Merlin, Oregon, in Hog Creek County Park, keeps the air from being fresh and clear. I was looking forward to the windows delivering cool healthy night air. Smoke from the fire kept that from us. Don’t know what caused the fire. News is delivered in drops, skating among titillating tidbits to keep us watching. “A race from another planet landed in the downtown area. But first, do you know what bees and spiders have in common? These stories and more, along with weather and local sports, after the commercial break.” By then, I’m long gone.

The news isn’t local, BTW, except in the sense that we’re part of southern Oregon, adjacent to northern California, an hour or two from the coast, a few hours from the capitol. That’s the stretch of our local news. Our local paper is gone; so is the larger one that served the area described. Our local coverage is due to be more truncated soon with the Sinclair Broadcasting affiliate being cut to one local news staffer. News from the nation and region will instead be delivered, unless that one person comes up with something big. See, we don’t have enough nation and region; the cable news channels can’t do it, no. Nor can all the websites and national newspapers. No, there must be another.

I later learned after the news posturing ended, the cause of the Hog Creek area fire is under investigation.

We still lack net at home. In our semi-smart home, this means we also lack all but basic over-the-air television, and our home phone line is down. So is our weather source, Alexa. We mock her but we depend upon her.  I’m at the coffee shop now, gone there early to surf before writing.

In many ways, being netless is like the good old days. What shall we do to occupy ourselves, we ask after cleaning. Clean more is suggested. Snide remarks and laughter come back. Read except, I’m short of reading material on hand. Guess I’ll hit the library today. I’ll also cut more grass, pull more weeds, trim more bushes, etc. Meanwhile, the situation caused The Neurons to dump The Stokes and “Someday” into the morning mental music stream.

It makes sense for once. We talk about the good ol’ days but they vary by age group. Saturday morning cartoons and breakfast cereal for one generation was going to the market in the wagon for another, driving to church for others, or fasting and praying. The good ol’ days are solid as slushy ice.

Been drinking my coffee. Time to punch on. Stay pos whatever happens to you, as best you can, if you can. I know, sometimes we just sink and there’s nothing we can do to stop ourselves.

Here’s the music. Cheers

0

The Bureau

Patrick felt like warmed-over crap. Aches gnawed his spine. Coffee tasted like tar in his mouth. Betrayed by coffee. How was that possible?

Squinting at the ceiling, Patrick loosened a long and heavy sigh. “God, universe, whatever, please, please, change my luck for me. I seriously need a change.”

A small person at a gray desk floated in front of him instantaneously. She was about four inches tall, seated as she was, in a pleasant black suit with a white shirt. As he gaped at her and backed away, the napping black cat arose from his desk and hurried over, ready to pounce on the newcomer.

“Control your cat,” the little pale-skinned female with short gray hair said. “I don’t want to hurt it.”

Grabbing Loki, Patrick asked, “Who the hell are you? How’d you get here?”

A little disapproving cluck came out of the little one. “Call me Hortense. I’m with luck prayer services. You prayed for a change of luck. I’m here to address your request.”

Meowing, the cat squirmed in Patrick’s arms while keeping hot green-eyed focus on the little floating agent. “I’m never heard of…what’d you call it?”

“Luck prayer services. I’m Hortense, your account manager. You asked for more luck. Unfortunately, you’re out of luck. In reviewing your account, I see that you were born with a great deal of luck. Intelligent, talented, white, male, born in the United States of good parents…minor issues with them…  No genetic issues. Yes, you were lucky. Unfortunately, you’ve used it all up.”

Tapping a keyboard, she leaned into the screen. “Several car accidents while drink driving in which you escaped unhurt and without legal repercussions. Tornados. Hurricane. Earthquake. Promotions. Stock purchases. Health. You smoked cigars for ten years and had no respiratory problems when COVID-19 struck. You realize how lucky that is?”

“I…yeah, yeah.” Patrick bobbed his head. “I know, I know.”

Loki broke free and leaped for Hortense. Something caught and held the cat in mid-air.

“Told you to control that cat, sir,” Hortense snapped. “If you don’t, I will.”

“I – sorry.” Patrick took Loki and put him in another room and closed the door. Hortense and her desk followed him throughout.

Turning and encountering her in the hall made Patrick jump. “Jesus, you.” He shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. It sounds like you’re telling me that my luck has run out.”

“I am, sir.”

“That doesn’t sound good for me.”

“No sir.”

“Anyway I can get more?”

“Of course.” One thin eyebrow jumped on Hortense’s tiny face. “It would take more money than you now have but you can buy more luck.”

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“A deal with the Devil is highly rated.”

“Yikes. Don’t think I’m ready to do that. Isn’t there anything else?”

“You can try to create your own luck. Some people have luck with that.” Hortense chortled. “Or you can steal some.”

Loki yowled at the door and vigorously clawed it.

“Are you seriously suggesting that I steal someone else’s luck?” As he asked, Patrick amended his thinking. “Can I choose my victim?” He was thinking, Tucker Carlson and Donald Trump both seemed pretty damn lucky. Or Soros. Gates. Musk.

“You can but that rarely works out. Hard for most to differentiate between good and bad luck. You might accidently pilfer their bad luck.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want that.” Patrick felt resigned, which oddly made him feel better. It was like, this wasn’t in his control. Knowing that relieved him of responsibility. Nothing he could do about it. “Is there anything else?”

“Well…yes. According to your records, you are eligible for employment.”

Patrick went still with thought. “Go on.”

“If you work for us, you can be compensated in good luck.”

“Who is us?”

Hortense smiled. “We just call ourselves The Bureau. Capital T, capital B.”

“You’re recruiting me.” Patrick suspected a setup. “So I do a job for you and The Bureau pays me in good luck.”

“Yes.”

“I assume whatever it is won’t be easy.”

“They’re normally not. But let me tell you. With your luck, if you don’t take this offer, you’ll be dead in a year.”

That’s how Patrick’s career began. Hard to believe but now he was about to start his tenth mission.

He’d need all of his hard-earned luck to stay alive.

1

Wednesday’s Theme Music

No snow! Again. It’s like days in a row. The weather at last feels like an Ashlandia spring. We’ll pop up to 80 F today. Low in the bottom 40s. Sunrise quarter past six. Sunset after eight in the evening. This is what Daddy likes.

It’s April 26, 2023. Sad news that ispace lost contact with Hakuto-R. Latest theory they’ve put out is it unexpectedly accelerated and crashed on the moon while attempting its approach. Back to the drawing boards.

I’ve always been a proponent of exploring space and trying to reach other planets. Curiosity of what’s out there drives me. I know, many argue that we’re already screwing up Earth and have demonstrated ourselves to be poor caretakers of our home planet, so why should we ‘be allowed’ to go somewhere else. Also, space exploration is a little pricy. Cost more than my annual coffee budget. And we have so many problems in our society, unintended consequences of systems, practices, laws and technology. So much we have here we need to fix.

But I’m an optimist. I hope that going to space more will lift our spirits and encourage us to change. I know, I know but space travel and exploration opens possibilities, and fires hope and optimism. Of course my background is white male. American, sure of food and shelter. I know in an intellectual way that it’s way different for others in ways that I struggle to fully imagine and comprehend. I try. I try to empathize and sympathize and help. And I want for others to have at least the levels of comfort, security, access to equity, and opportunities that I’ve experienced.

Had a plethora of dreams again. Some involved Dad and painting. I’ll explore that more, I think.

Thoughts of space impelled Les Neurons to fire up “Rocket Man” by Elton John and Bernie Taupin 1972. Found a lovely video of John in concert with the song in 1972. Just fifty plus years ago, hey?

Stay pos and don’t let your fuse burn out. I’ve got some coffee if you need it. Maybe we can pass the cup.

Here’s the music. Enjoy. Cheers

5

The Writing Moment

They were watching a television show. A body landed on the cement behind an FBI agent. The agent was on a cell. The landing body thudded. She flinched and looked back.

His wife said, “That’s not believable. She didn’t even duck.”

“That’s a choice the creative team makes as part of the storytelling. How does the character react to something like that? Are they calm and unfazed or do they freak? That’s part of the show’s tenure and the series’ atmosphere. I make decisions like that all the time when I’m writing, trying to decide how someone reacts and keep them true to the story and character.”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

Well, it was important to him.

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Tuesday’s Theme Tumblings

Tuesday’s Ashlandia by the numbers. 041123, 41/55 F, 6:34/7:48. Rain showers took the night. More rain visitations are anticipated for today.

It’s smelling and feeling like spring outside. Temperatures pushed up to a glorious 74 degrees F. Foamy white clouds ring the blue bowl over Ashlandia. Snow still stands on patches of the surrounding mountains but a green world and blue sky dominate.

I complained to friends about my weather forecast irritation. One responded with a story out of The Atlantic about how/why apps fail to provide satisfying and consistently accurate forecasts. Embedded in the tale was a site called forecastadvisor.com. This site tells what apps and sources are most and least accurate in their forecasts by percentage of days. Good data to gobble.

John Mellencamp was selected by The Neurons for residency in today’s morning mental music stream. Song is “The Real Life”. 1987. Went to a concert for that album, Lonesome Jubilee. Germany. Song came up from the mental vaults due to reflections on what is meant by living a real life? Seems like a definite spectrum to that answer, which changes by age, experiences, and circumstances. I feel like I’ve found my real life spending time in isolation, writing, editing, posting, corresponding. Others would disagree, chiding me for ‘not doing anything, not going anywhere, not being social’. I can debate with them whether that is ‘the real life’. Farmers might tell you the real life is all about growing things. Parents might say it’s about raising children who become adults and raise more children who become adults ad infinitum. I’ve heard others state that living the real life means helping others.

Here’s the song. Stay pos and live the real life, whatever you decide that is for you for now. My real life definitely involves coffee so I’m off to the kitchen. Cheers

1

Sunday’s Wandering Thought

He needed to iron a shirt. Short sleeve. Cotton. Button up.

Been so long since he’d ironed a shirt. Used to do it almost every day in the military and quite often when he was in marketing. New materials and different work activities and standards had lessened requirements to iron.

He was still using their thirty-year-old iron. Why not? It works. He figured smart irons have finally arrived, though what a smart iron would do, he doesn’t know. Probably robot irons have arrived, too, just give it the shirt and it’ll know what to do. But he had to manually do it, setting up the little board and then plying seams, collar, yoke, sleeves, and most treacherous of all for him, the placket with steam and heat to make it all look unwrinkled.

After all that, he didn’t wear the shirt. Oh, well. It’d be ready for next time.

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Saturday’s Wandering Thought

He remembered the time someone he loved told him that she hated him.

Burned like a hot knife across his back. Sickened like food poisoning. He thought she loved him.

The hatred on her face.

The way she crushed the words.

1

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Is today a holiday or a travesty? Talking about former POTUS reporting to the court in New York. Some decry it all as political theater. Others shout, “‘Bout friggin’ time.” More wail, “No, presidents and former presidents are sacrosanct and should NEVER be arrested.” More say, “Hey, none of us are supposed to be above the law.” That’s where I stand. No one is above the law. Investigate and present the evidence, hear the arguments. Let a court decide. It’s a balancing act.

It is interesting to note that so many conservatives, solid law and order supporting individuals, are claiming this isn’t part of law and order, declaiming that there is no evidence, etc., whenever the law at any level focuses on Trump. Mind you, he’s been screaming to lock people up, especially political opponents but also anyone who crosses or displeases him. Evidence also keeps emerging that he kept trying to weaponize the Justice Department, especially the FBI, during his term. Then he tried to fire those people he appointed and wanted to lock them up because they wouldn’t do as he bid.

It’s Tuesday, April 4, 2023. We have more April snow on the ground. Just a wet inch which is already fleeing, vampire like, from the thin sunshine squeezing in past clouds. The surrounding mountains have much more snow to the east. Good for the base and the needs for our other seasons, growing things like hemp and marijuana, wine grapes, barley, and hops, and feeding us all with the valley’s network of organic farms. Better, the rain and snow will help the region combat wildfires this year. Yeah, fingers crossed, as always.

The discussion about the former POTUS and his legal situation and the country’s political atmosphere has The Neurons pulling David Bowie’s music out of the mental cellar, putting it into the morning mental music stream. “Law (Earthlings On Fire)” came out in 1997. The song’s main refrain is, “I don’t want knowledge, I want certainty.” Feels like that’s a weighty component of what’s happening in the U.S. at this point. I don’t know. I’ve not had coffee yet.

Stay pos. and have a magnificent Tuesday, baby. Coffee is standing by. Cheers

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