It was Wednesday. As though scheduled by God, school children began filing into the coffee house at 2:05. Within five minutes, the number of people went from six quiet adults to six quiet adults and fifty noisy children aged ten through fifteen, at a guess. The volume rose. Their voices climbed louder. A fighter jet taking off would have been drowned out.
The cliques formed and routines were honored. Then one teenaged female raced back through the coffee house and out the front door. As she left, she screamed and then did a little dance. A girl outside ran up to her. The two surged into a long hug and began jumping up and down without releasing each other, joy overwhelming their expressions. Other girls in the coffee shop turned, saw the scene and ran out to join them. “Eva, Eva,” one running girl shouted as she raced out, answering one question.
Of course, other questions surfed his mind, like who was Eva and where had she been? She seemed very popular. It was like she was just getting back from prison, a hospital stay, or a very long trip.
Tuesday found another tech irritation gaining momentum. Apps and search boxes always tried finishing his typing for him. They were often wrong and usually a distraction. Almost as bad was when he shoved his mouse aside to clear a view of what he was typing, only to have the cursor land on something else, amplifying whatever was in that box, whether he was interested or not. The pages were just messy with annoying ‘helpful’ distractions.
He admired his blue pullover. It was a cheap thing, a rag sweater bought for about $15 over twenty years ago. He still liked it although no elastic properties remained in it. Other than that failure, the sweater had no holes, no picks from an animal’s claws — which was truly amazing — and had not frayed anywhere. He’d bought it a store which no longer existed.
The store name, Mervyn’s, came to him after a moment. He remembered their television commercials. It seemed like they’d gone out of business so suddenly and was gone, like a brief rain shower on a hot summer day.
Rain was coming down. Black asphalt reflected the oncoming traffic’s lights. The speed limit was 35 MPH here but he guessed that the approaching SUV was doing closer to 50. He couldn’t identify what brand the big, silver SUV was, because its grill and front end were gone. As it went by — a Toyota, he noted — he saw that the young female driver was holding a cell phone on top of the steering wheel. Her jaw and mouth were moving like she was shouting at the phone.
He wondered what the story was behind the vehicle’s front-end damage.
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
He spent three days working to put together a better flow. Just two inconsistencies were seen but they were big. He loved that story line and the associated chapters. On the third day’s night, after he stopped writing, after he ate dinner, as he exercised at home, he faced the conclusion that he wanted to avoid; he needed to remove those chapters and that storyline.
Friday. I’m ready for the weekend. Wednesday felt like Friday. So did Thursday. Now Friday is here, and Friday feels like Friday.
I ruminated about what that means, when a day feels like Friday. It feels like you’re ready to rest and have a change from your routines. Mind you, I don’t work. I set my own routines. So all this is a mind game for me. The mind is winning so far.
Yeah boy, it’s Friday, January 13, 2023. Last night’s winds were the worse of this season’s offerings. They reached sound levels where I looked out expecting to see huge animals stampeding past. I’ve been in hurricanes, typhoons, and tornados. These wind sounds didn’t achieve those levels, but they did inspire The Neurons to say that if this keeps up…
It didn’t keep up, though. After a few power short power outages, not even enough to restart the clocks, but enough that the clocks opened and closed their eyes, the winds finally tailed off in the night’s middle. Rain kept going and still is. Today’s high is 54 degrees F. We’re at 52. After peaking, we’ll going to go downhill into the lower forties. Still not bad temperatures, right? Snow was sitting on some of our surrounding mountain ridges and peaks yesterday. We can’t judge that and whether our drought is over until it’s all done in the spring, but at least rivers and cisterns are full for now.
Sunrise brought enough light through the clouds after 7:39 this morning to look around for damages and see none in my area. Hope the other areas fared as well. I’ll check it out before the sun checks out at 5:02 this evening.
Wind thoughts brought “The Zephyr Song” into the morning mental music stream today. The Red Hot Chili Peppers released it back in the new century’s early years. Lot of rhyming going on in it. It’s a mellow tune with a few harder splashes about being on a wind and connecting with others. Those are thoughts I entertained when I was a teenager, the “wouldn’t it be neat to ride a wind whenever you wanted to, go wherever you wanted, meet others and take them with you” variety of mind playing. Naturally I thought of riding last night’s wind, hurtling the Cascades and Sierra Nevada, thundering over the rivers and plains until energy is spent and a calmer place is found.
Coffee has arrived to soothe The Neurons and uplift the rest of the body. Stay positive and test negative. Worry about tomorrow the day after tomorrow and move it forward. Here is the song. Cheers
Wednesday felt like Friday.He searched through his layers of mental dirt and emotions about why Wednesday felt like Friday. As he found no reason, he concluded that it was Friday, not Wednesday. It was everyone else who was wrong. Not him.
Warmish and foggy, kind of cool, too. It’s Christmas day in southern Oregon.
Dawn dashed in under the fog’s cover at 7:38 in the morning. I fed the cats and we prepared food to take to our friend’s house for Christmas brunch. Sipping coffee, I looked out the kitchen window. The fog was hurrying away. Sunshine struck the valley’s southern edge, lighting the trees and the blue sky.
I thought about all the matters which have gone well for me and pushed that aside. Homelessness plagues our small town. All those people were out there, looking for places to get warm, to be safe, to rest their bones and minds. I helped a few this week but it never feels like enough. Never. It’s a pattern encountered across the nation, one of the most powerful societies the world has ever seen.
I thought about the misery of people in other states hanging on as snow and ice storms undercut their infrastructures and cut their power. I thought about the military forces battling for arcane logic in Ukraine and the people trying to help one another to stay alive there. Then I thought about all the wealth hung onto by our world’s most fortunate families, individuals, corporations, wondering if they’re the most deserving, and how the sperm lottery affects our existences. I’m flattened often by stories of the wealthy do the most that they can to stay wealthy and make more money. Work harder, others are told. It’s just that easy.
Just Christmas reflections, little different than my recurring daily thoughts. Not original, but worn and tired.
My music today has nothing to do with the holidays. The song came out of dreams and efforts, weariness but hope. Called, “Turn It On Again”, the song is by Genesis. Released in 1980, the song is about a man whose friends are the people on TV.
Have a merry one. Happy holidays to you, whatever your flavor of seasonal celebrating as the common era year slides to an end. Hope you’re warm and safe, with a belly full of food.
Michael Seidel, writer 