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The Porsche Dream

One of last night’s dream seemed structured like a feature film.

It began with me becoming aware of a contest. I can’t tell you the details of the contest. They were vague and dreamy. But I entered the contest and was selected as one of the winners.

That thrilled me. As a prize, I was going to drive a Porsche 911 Cabrio. It wasn’t the current model, but a car that was part of a collector’s garage. I was happy and excited.

But the dream took a twist. Other people needed help. It wasn’t inconsequential help, but help they needed to survive. Although it meant that I would miss out on my prize, I did what I needed to do to help others. Yes, on the one hand, I regretted that I would miss out on my prize. On the other hand, come on, it’s a silly prize, compared to the larger picture of helping others who are fighting to survive. There wasn’t a question; it’s what needed to be done.

Smiling and happy, they thanked me after I helped them (I literally gave a number of people helping hands to climb out of muddy, swollen rivers.) When it was all over, I waved good-bye to them, satisfied with the result.

Taking another turn in the dream, though, a friend, Kevin, showed up. He said, “I called the guy and told him what you did and why you didn’t get your prize. He admired you, so he came up with another prize for you.” I was presented with the keys to an Arctic blue Porsche 911 Cabrio.

Oh, it was gorgeous. Although it was a cold day, with melting snow all over the place, it was sunny, and the car’s top was down. Kevin and I got into the car. I started it up and drove it carefully through puddles of slush and over patches of snow and ice.

Kevin said, “Come on. What are you doing? My grandma drives faster than this. Open it up.”

But I’d had a plan. I was getting to a place where I could turn and go up a hill onto a mountain road. Right as Kevin finished making his plaintive statements, I downshifted and mashed the throttle. As he was slammed back in his seat, he laughed and said, “Whoa, shit. This is more like it.”

Laughing, with the car’s engine in full song, I accelerated up the mountain road.

That was the dream’s ending.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

I first heard this song as a version by the Byrds in 1969. Then it sorted faded away, but resurfaced a few years later, by the Doobie Brothers. I’ve found that many others have covered it. It’s just one of those songs.

“Jesus Is Just Alright” has interesting (but not numerous lyrics). Upbeat, with changing tempos, it has religious overtones but remains light and reflective, and a simple statement. “I don’t care what they may say, I don’t care what they may do.” I love that firm belief, this is what I believe, believe what you want.

I feel obliged to mention that it’s about faith, not facts. You can have firm beliefs in your faith; that’s cool. If you’re a fiction writer, you can create your own facts within the structure of fiction. But when it comes to reality, you can’t just declare, this is what I believe, I don’t care what your facts say.

Challenging to hold this apparently contradictory processes and directions in your head. Messy, innit?

Something to think about on a Tuesday.

 

 

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Friday’s Theme Music

The Clash came to mind today because it’s the anniversary of Sid Vicious’ death. He died of a heroin overdose when he was twenty-one. These facts came together in a tsunami of media concern about punk rock and drugs.

Sid didn’t play on this song, “London Calling,” which came from an album by the same name. The mash up of styles and sounds and social awareness in the songs attracted me, but it wasn’t music normally encountered in the places I frequented or the people I hung out with. That meant I often listened to it alone in the car or at home.

“London Coming” came out 1979. I was stationed at Randolph AFB, San Antonio, Texas, having returned to service after taking a year off to buy a restaurant and go to college. The restaurant didn’t work out and the local economy sucked, so I returned to the military and stayed in another sixteen years.

 

 

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Humor Breaks

I confess: I like goofy humor. I’m a Benny Hill fan. Parody, slapstick, and innuendo makes me laugh. Monty Python’s “Argument Room” remains one of my favorite skits. The silliness on “Red Dwarf” cracks me up.

You’ve been warned.

My wife and I have been enjoying this short video, “I’m About to Whip Somebody’s Ass.”

 

It’s been around for a while. Its rise to my attention prompted me to remember the ones I’ve seen over the years that I’ve most enjoyed. (Well, to my recollection. I probably forgot a few.)

One of the first from long ago was this parody of James Blunt’s song, “You’re Beautiful.” I found the parody inspirational, and tempting. Yes, I was always tempted to sit in my cubicle nude after hearing this.

 

 

Then there was “Alan! Alan!”

All of these were passed on or shared with me, and I’ve passed these on and shared them before. Are there any that you particularly enjoy sharing or passing on?

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Floofinjay

Floofinjay (catfinition) – a haughty, strutting cat.

In use: “While his rescued siblings retired to their mother’s side, the little tuxedo floofinjay went about the as though he was the new emperor.”

 

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A Time Pause

Walking around Ashland, especially in the commercial area downtown along Main Street and the Plaza, I encounter buildings constructed between one hundred and one hundred ten years ago. Their construction date is easily known because the year is on the building, which I like. But seeing such a proliferation of construction, I wonder what the town was then like, and the people’s vision of the future, and then consider what this town might look like one hundred years from now.

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Here It Comes

Here it comes,

the daily screed,

the morning sun,

the cat and the first cup,

here it comes,

here it comes.

 

Here comes the parade,

here comes the day,

here comes the moment,

here comes your chance,

here it comes,

here it comes.

 

Here comes the hopes and dreams,

here comes the losses and tears,

here comes the beginning,

here comes the end,

here comes the realization,

here comes the rest.

 

Here it comes,

here it comes.

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Floof-gazing

Floof-gazing (catfinition) – a practice that involves contemplating cats that’s often accompanied by philosophical questions about what cats are doing or thinking, or why cats are engaged in an activity.

In use: “While floof-gazing, he observed one cat steal up on a sleeping feline, sniff the sleeping cat’s rear end, and then slink away.”

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Lesson Learned

One life lesson I learned long ago is to always check for toilet paper before sitting down to do my business. Of course, sometimes the information is useless, because there is no toilet paper, and no solution for the missing toilet paper.

That’s when you follow your “No Toilet Paper” flow chart to decide what to do.

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