Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Have you ever been eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation and want to join in? Are you a joiner? Do you insert yourself in their private conversation?
For me, it depends on the subject and the people’s emotional state. Their drunkenness and my drunkenness can contribute.
I probably join in others’ conversations about twenty-five percent of the time.
Today, although the others’ subject matter and comments fascinated me, I restrained myself.
I just posted about it.
Imfloofable (floofinition) – a housepet that refuses to change its personality or accomodate any others.
In use: “Although she tried introducing other pets into the household, Flash was imfloofable, refusing to accept any other creature in the home. Like the Highlander, there could be only one.”
Telefloofnesis (floofinition) – a housepet’s production of motion in objects (as by a quantum medium) without contact or other physical means.
In use: “Sometimes, playing with his human pet, the Cocker Spaniel employed his telefloofnesis to steal food from the man’s plate and eat it, always baffling the man about how it had happened.”
Read this post this morning. The song immediately began streaming in my head. And now…I’m stuck with it, so I’m reblogging it as VSTM (very-special theme music) to get it out. It’s a terrific song, but I have things to do.
Okay, I’m going out on a limb with this one, for many may not remember or care for it. In truth, it isn’t one over which I wax nostalgic, but I trust my instincts, and for some reason this one has been in my head ever since this evening when I cussed the driver of the car in front of me who failed to understand that a green light means “GO YOU DUMBASS!!!”
The song was written by Desmond Dekker and Leslie Kong in 1968. According to Dekker …
“It all happened so quickly. I didn’t write that song sitting around a piano or playing a guitar. I was walking in the park, eating corn. I heard a couple arguing about money. She was saying she needed money and he was saying the work he was doing was not giving him enough. I relate to those things and began to…
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Floofternize (floofinition) – housepets who are friendly with one another, regardless of species or relationships.
In use: “To everyone’s satisfaction, the home cats floofternized with the visiting felines, with Doodlecat and Stoney buddying up to one another, and the other cats sharing their food and toys.”
My Dad was a special guest star in my dreams last night. I was a teenager in all of them, not really surprising, because that’s the era of my life that I saw the most of him, as I lived with him for three years after things became dark and unpleasant with Mom’s husband. Then I graduate from high school and left home.
In one memorable part of the dream, Dad and I were following a young tabby cat. The cat had gone down a sidewalk. I hurried after him, and discovered him rolling around on the cement walk in some freshly cut grass.
After that, the dream scenes fluttered and crackled. There was Dad and I driving in a car, and I’m looking out the window, checking out passing scenery. We throw a baseball back and forth in sunshine. I hear his laugh. Dad enjoys laughing.
The dreams grew darker and faster in nature. Then, suddenly, it became “This Is Your Life” from when I was in my mid-teens.
Life wasn’t going well. Most of my time was spent reading books, riding my bike, playing sports, drawing and painting, and listening to music. Although I enjoyed math, history, science, and literature, school was a bore. I was becoming a loner and acted out out a lot, and the dream managed to feature sharp memories of that era. In one sequence, a boy two years younger than me was riding a bike. A bunch of us children were in front of his house on a late summer afternoon. We weren’t doing much but hanging. I think I was fourteen. This kid, though, was riding around and bantering with others. Then I heard my sister say, “He spit on me.”
I don’t believe I’d ever reacted as fast to anything in my life, and I have always, from childhood on to even now, been known for amazingly fast reflexes.
He was riding his bike by me. My hand shot out, caught the rear of his bike and jerked it back, pulling it out from under him. As he fell free, I tossed the bike to one side, stepped forward, grabbed the kid, and hauled him to his feet. I told him he needed to apologize to my sister. I remember that other kids there were freaked out and afraid I was going to do something terrible to the kid. But he apologized to my sister. I released him. He took his bike and ran to his house.
His mother came out and confronted me. I was unapologetic. I told her nobody was going to spit on my sister while I was there. She didn’t know her son had spit on my sister. That changed things.
The scene was just a brief flash in my dream, the part where my sister said, “He spit on me,” and I grabbed his bike. I remembered the rest, along with other memories from that period, after awakening.
The whole dream and memory sequence left me emotionally shaken as I went about my morning routine. As I wondered why I’d dreamed so much about my father and childhood, I reached out to him to ensure he was okay.
He stepped aside to let a woman pushing a shopping cart go by. A young girl in the cart’s child seat said, “Mom, while I ever be big enough that I don’t have to ride in the cart.”
Mom replied, “Yes, you’ll be big enough sooner than you think.”
The man said, “I wish I could get in a cart and ride around.”
The woman laughed. “Yes, I would love to be in a cart and have someone push me around.”
As the adults laughed, the child stared at them. Then the man rounded the corner. Encountering a woman in a wheelchair, he began re-thinking his wish.
Floofthora (floofinition) – an abundance of housepets.
In use: “It’d begun with a rescue Pittie and a rescue cat. Then a stray tom was taken in, puppies and kittens were born, a parrot came along. Suddenly a floofthora was ruling their home.”
It seems like the Internet was more fun when I was younger, and it was too. I’ve become jaded and cynical, and the net has become commercialized and polarized. Back in those days, I worked in a place where my team were all in cubicles. This parody, based on James Blunt’s hit song, “You’re Beautiful”, put it all in perspective.
Walking through sun and shadow latticed cold air, stepping through my plumes of condensation, splashing through puddles, and looking for rainbows as drizzles and sprinkles come and go.
Snow blankets the ridges and peaks across the valley, our first of the season. The snow level seems to be about thirty-five hundred feet. As always, its stark contrast against the sky is a rugged beauty, like a natural metaphor for change.
My mood is high. I hesitate to say it aloud, so I write it instead, but I feel a shift in my energy. I didn’t think the date would make a difference, and maybe it doesn’t. Perhaps I’m feeling a temporary shift and it’s at a personal level, but I hope it’s a broader and longer lasting shift in the world’s energy one that brings the world more peace, justice, and happiness.
I would blame it on my peppermint mocha, but I already felt it before I reached the coffee shop or tasted my drink. Time to write and edit like crazy, at least, you know, one more time.
