Category: Uncategorized

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: introspective

Sunshine glistens off a wet, clean sheen, complementing the air’s fresh smell with sigh-inducing vigor. Fall has been good to Ashlandia, so far. That could present further clues about why I like it. Summer in our zone becomes damaging. Blazing sun takes over, cooking the plants. Temperatures lunge into the nineties toward triple digits. Sweat pours off us as the heat broils us. Wildfires light up as summer lightning strikes parched vegetation. Smoke spreads, clotting our lungs and stinging our eyes.

Come fall, with soothing, “there, there” damp temperatures, the world relaxes; we the people relax with it. In my perfect world, I’d have fall weather but with the long stretch of daylight seen in the summer. That’s where fall fails me, as orbits and planes shift, moving the sun away from us, shortening the daylight.

Temperatures today will operate in a narrow zone. 56 F now, cloudy, 66 F later, with rains coming and going throughout the day.

A bevy of tunes fell into the morning mental music stream (Tradement teasing). Dreams sparked these. Such a myriad of wild, long dreams were experienced. The Neurons just rode the current. The song which ended up on top was “Who Can It Be Now?” by Men At Work from the 1980s.

It’s a true Aussie new wave sound. The part which The Neurons linked to a dream is a line, “It’s not the future that I can see, it’s just my fantasy.” That’s a true beat to my waking mind dealing with the dream mind.

Stay pos and hydrated, be strong and push forward. I can and will with help from my little dark friend steaming in a large mug. Here’s the music. Let’s enjoy some life. Cheers

0

Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: mixed

It’s a mixed tape day for me and my moods on Sunday, September 24, 2023. Our air has gotten worse in Ashlandia, where the day is somber and the streets are quiet. Awakening heavily congested, with a mild smoky odor in the air, I feel like I’m not far from a roaring fireplace where WH documents are being burned ala Mark Meadows. I crank on the air filter.

Being congested brought the usual interrogation in my head. What is the cause behind the congestion? Potential causes are wildfire smoke, cold, flu, COVID, asthma, other. I washed my nasal passages with a saline solution made for that purpose, blew my nose several times, and endured several sneezing bouts. That’s all ended. None was overly bad; the wonder about the cause is more of a problem.

The smoke is worse today. Although it’s still only ‘unhealthy’ by air quality standards, psychologically, we’ve moved into the deep ‘this sucks’ stage. It does seem to be thinning now; the mountains are looking less opaque and blue. Rain is expected today. It rained last night, though, and didn’t reduce the smoke. Time to mask up again.

Autumn is asserting control of the our regions weather. Smoke and clouds weaken the sun’s glory, rendering the sky a bland white mildewing with gray. Temperature is 63 F under ‘haze’. High temperature of 71 F has been put out there for us. A few trees are beginning to transition. Yellows and reds are streaking along a few branches.

I’m generally in favor of fall, or autumn as most of the world calls it. Lower temperatures and less smoke are associated with Ashlandia’s fall. Fall is also home to Thanksgiving, one of my favorite holidays due to the work Mom put into it when I was young and living with her. She prepared all the dishes, doing so with pride and diligence, delivering wonderful roasted turkey with all the works dinners.

Today’s music selection foisted on my by the neurons came out about thirty years ago. “Acquiesce” by Oasis is rattling around the morning mental music stream (Trademark screwed up). I think a dream inspired Der Neurons to play the song for me. The dream was a long, convoluted piece about being forceful but getting lost. One line of song lyrics is, “I don’t know how to wake the things that sleep inside.” I was instead thinking, what’s going on in me? Something feels like it’s been awakened. I can see how Les Neurons put all that together and came up with “Acquiesce”

Stay pos, be strong, and work it like you own it. I’ve had a few drams of black brew, and now I’m feeling fiesty. Here comes the music. Time to rock on. Cheers

0

Saturday’s Wandering Thought

While visiting in Pittsburgh for a wedding, we spoke with some rabid MAGAts. Common ground was found around three things:

  1. We don’t like the country’s current direction (but disagree on why, except inflation)
  2. Term limits are needed for US representatives and senators.
  3. A age limit is also needed for all Federally elected offices.

Unfortunately, we agreed, the ones most responsible for the mess are also the ones who can effect change easiest but passing laws for numbers two and three from our list.

We know that the final problem is, these elected representatives of, by, and for the people, will never pass laws which make them more responsible to the people.

So, really, we had five things we agreed upon in our search for common ground. None of us were real thrilled with most aspects of the media, too.

0

Another Porsche Dream

Here we go. I dreamed about a Porsche last night. It didn’t belong to me, and it was two pieces.

Let’s step back to what I start remembering of the dream.

I was attending some function being held outside. Pleasant late summer weather ruled. A picnic atmosphere prevailed. I have no idea what triggered the gathering, nor my role. Although I never ‘saw’ other people in the dream for a while, sounds informed me they were present.

The first startling thing was the Porsche.

I came across the rear first. Mounted on a piece of asphalt roadway, the car’s rear was planted in a position that lead me to think that the car was plowing into the ground.

Then, almost immediately, I saw the front end. Facing in the same direction, mounting on a piece of road, it seemed to be emerging from the earth about forty yards away. An older vintage spyder with the top down, it seemed to be a model 365, a car which I like, gray or silver in color.

Oh, what they do for art, I thought. I wondered if it was original, and if it had an engine, and the crazy artist’s identity.

Announcements began from a person holding a megaphone. They were gauzy with distance. I didn’t recognize anything about them.

I discovered that the car belonged to a ‘director’. Little details emerged except the director was a a tall, slender woman with a short blonde bob in a red dress, no one I knew.

The director wanted somebody to drive the car, giving others rides in it for a fee which would be donated to charity. Were there any volunteers?

Silence answered. I spoke up, clarifying what was being asked. I pondered, was there another Porsche involved? Then I discovered the intact car in front of me.

Naturally, I was surprised. I looked at the artwork installation. The road pieces remained but the car pieces were gone. Miraculously to me, they were a solid car. I tried to understand how that happened.

“I’ll drive it,” I volunteered. The chance to drive a vintage Porsche thrilled me. This was going to be fun.

Keys were given to me, and instructions about my agenda. First I was to drive the car to another location.

The director made another announcement; “My car is dirty. I need a volunteer to wash my car.”

Again, nobody spoke so I said that I would do it. That pleased me. Weird as it may sound, I enjoy washing, cleaning, and polishing cars.

In a dream jump, that was done. I was driving the little spyder, top down, on a two lane road. The car, which is a two-seater sports vehicle, now had a big seat, and I had four or five passengers. I could glimpse in the car’s rearview mirror, and heard them chattering, and laughing, enjoying the ride.

I pressed the brake pedal to slow us as we came up on traffic. The car slowed some but we ended up bumping into the car in front of us. It wasn’t a hard impact. I was embarrassed and surprised, and hoped I’d not caused any damage.

The other driver, a bland guy, and I met at the bumpers. He looked at it and shrugged, waving it off. I didn’t see any damage to the Porsche, so I climbed back in and set off.

Though I planned and adjusted for the car’s weak brakes, I almost rear-ended another. This really dismayed me.

“Just as I thought,” I told my wife. “This car has next to no brakes. That’s why it took so long to stop. I’ll need to be careful.”

On those words, the dream ended. I came away thinking that I can step up but exercise some caution. I took that from volunteering when others wouldn’t. However, the brakes weren’t working as expected, hence the idea that caution is needed.

Conversely, my neurons were just having fun with me.

The choices seem equally plausible.

0

The Writing Moment

It was mid-Saturday morning.

I’d arrived in my favorite coffee locale for my writing session. Vintage soulful music with a jazzy edge was playing on the overhead speaker system. The baristas were busy with drive-through business. Only one other person shared the tables with me, a young woman in a far corner who displayed predatory interest in her cell phone. I’d seen her there before, never with anyone else, and always engaged in her cell. As usual, she was dressed in a sloppy style of what looked like pink and gray pajamas. Her solitude, isolation, and deep focus on her phone piqued my writer side. Oddly, I’d never caught her name from the baristas when her order was called.

I’d pulled my laptop out and had it set up. My mind was already in writing mode. I’m halfway through the first revision of a novel-in-progress with a weird working title, Yum. With my nephew’s wedding and the travel to Pittsburgh and other activities it entailed done, I was eager to delve into the story I’d written. Its speculative nature readily engaged me, and I’m really pleased with what I have so far.

“M, your coffee is up.”

The speaker was the barista, Nate, a good-looking, dark-haired man who seems in his early twenties. I gt along with him quite well. He’s always in a good mood, and we’ll often talk about subjects outside of coffee, inclding smoke and politics.

I headed up to collect my cup and discovered it filled to the brim. Grinning at me, Nate said, “You said you wanted no room.”

I laughed. “Clever.” I reached for a straw.

“Want me to pour some out?” Nate asked while making coffee drinks.

Shaking my head, I gave him a severe look. “Pour out fresh coffee?” Its steamy smell filled my nose. “No, no, challenge accept.”

Inserting the straw into the hot beverage, I sucked some up so it wouldn’t slop any over when I walked. Nate watched and laughed.

“Good job,” he shouted as I took my drink and headed for my table.

“Damn straight,” I answered. If coffee was to be wasted today, it wouldn’t be at my hand.

Time to write like crazy, one more time.

0

Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: moody

My mood is sometimes up today, eager to get on with things. But I look outside. Smoke from wildfires filled our air overnight. A check of the indexes verify that we’ve gone into the unhealthy range. I can guess that; the light gray and white smoke obliterates views of the trees and mountains. Visibility is truncated at a few hundred yards. The smell, mildly chemical in this round, reminiscent of burning plastic, irritates my nostrils and eyes. My sinuses clog and spirits droop. I was planning to engage the yard with some cutting implements. That probably won’t happen with this smoke. Yes, I can make like a bandit, don a mask and get it done, but it’s not a critical task.

So begins Saturday, September 23, 2023.

Beyond the smoke, it’s 56 F outside, with a chance it’ll reach 76 F outside today. I’m doubtful about that, given the smoke layer blanketing it. The smoke keeps the sun out and chills the air. Sunshine is reaching the house’s backside, which faces the east.

Whenever smoke spills into the valley, like most, I search for the source. We especially worry that a new, closer fire has started. None appears on the map. With the lack of a woody smell to it, I suspected it’s a wind shift. Besides, we’ve not be warned by any government entity to get ready to pack up and go.

The smoke is snaking to us from the southwest, indicative of the California fires. This screenshot is a product of the Western Fire Chiefs Association website. Ashland, where I am, is directly north of the Happy Camp Complex.

My sister, L, is making a good recovery from her cancer surgery, but it’s early days. She received the flowers and expressed delight with them and the message. Fingers remain in the crossed position.

The Neurons are feeding the morning mental music stream (Trademark bogus) with music by Talking Heads and David Byrne. Today I’m hearing “What A Day That Was”. This song’s spirited beat and sound, and the stories conveyed, bolster my energy and optimism. The Neurons undoubtably chose this tune because of my reflections back on my nephew’s wedding last Saturday. Such a happy mood prevailed, bathing us with positive energy. What a day that was.

Stay pos, be strong, and carpe diem. I’ve carped the coffee; half a cup of the black sustaining beverage has been reduced. Here’s the tune. Hey ho, let’s go.

0

Another Space Traveling Dream

I again went through the space traveling dream.

This is a continuing dream series. I’ve blogged about it before three times, but I didn’t mention several other episodes, and the series fell out of fashion. Like a new TV show season, the series returned last night.

In the space traveling dream series, I’m in my house, but it’s traveling in space on an alien spaceship. I’ve never seen or heard the aliens behind this, as far as I know.

When I awaken from these, I’m often confused about where I’m at and what’s going on. Although in the very first dream space traveling dream, I thought it was cool to be in my house being transported by aliens through space. I never thought I’d make it to space, yet here I was.

Last night’s dream event was recalled when I awoke in my home office. I’d fallen asleep in a recliner while streaming the first season of Justified. Awakening, the streaming service had stopped streaming, a feature set when it’s been going awhile, so the television was silent. I was alone; Tucker had been asleep on my lap, but he’d left.

Bewilderment washed over me. I was confused about where I was. Some anxiety splashed up about forgetting to do things. I scrambled to think what I thought I should have done that I neglected. Was it about charging devices? Going somewhere? Feeding the cats?

No; it was about kitty litter. What was it about kitty litter? Oh, it was missing.

But wait; aren’t I on the alien ship? Does the alien ship have kitty litter? Do we need kitty litter in space, or is something else out there? I didn’t understand what I was thinking there, but then began worrying about kitty litter being in space’s weak gravity. I imagined it floating around, polluting the air, maybe damaging systems. Except, I was in my house, and there was gravity, so there shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Except, was the whole house there? I panicked, thinking the aliens had carried my office away from the rest of the house. Scrambling out of the office, I found the house intact beyond the door.

I wanted to look out a window for the alien spaceship. I never have seen it; I always imagine the house resting on the outside hull, which is dark as a lightless night. I have no evidence for believing that, and don’t know how it’s connected to the alien ship. Yet, I also think that if I want to, I could go into the alien ship.

Coming up on two AM, I felt it was time to hit the bed.

The thing about this, it took a lot longer to write what transpired than it took to think, panic, and scramble. It was like, from the dream, I was thinking that I was somewhere that I didn’t expect to be and then had to solve the mystery of where I was and what I was meant to do.

Hitting the bed, Tucker joined me after a few minutes. Comforting sleep was rediscovered once again.

0

Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

I was in the Pittsburgh International Airport baggage area, awaiting our luggage’s arrival as though they’re rare precious animals. We’ve already taken the first needed steps after a long flight of relieving our bowels.

It’s weirdly quiet here; sounds echo in the tall, wide chamber. Other passengers sprinkle in , surrounding the system like an army laying siege to a fort. We’re all cold, with postures as though we’re huddling. Airport A/Cs are usually set low enough to preserve popsicles.

I recognize fellow travelers, such as the tall elderly man who wobbled slowly up the jetway, and the young Japanese woman in colorful fleece pants and jacket who appears as if she’s walking while asleep. Most people are silent as they wait, checking messges or reading emails on their phones; a few start talking on cell phones, giving all of us broad strokes about where they’re at, where they’re going, what’s next for them.

A harsh buzzer bellows. The red light on its single metal tube begins spinning. Mechanical grinding and groaning rises. The metallic system commences its hurried orbit around the central chute.

We watch and wait, watch and wait, arms crossed, sighing, coughing, as the belt goes around bereft of bags. Of course, it’s the end of a journey for the bags, too. Hundreds of yards away, they left the aircraft and are traveling the system. It’s supposed to go faster than the passengers, so the passengers don’t need to wait.

That has yet to happen at any airport I’ve ever used in the United States. At last comes the thump announcing the first bag. A red hard-sided piece slides down the chute with a hiss. We crane forward to see the lucky person who claims the first bag.

It isn’t me. My bag is black, I remind myself. My wife’s bag is brown leather. Sighing, I cross my arms and look forward to the next bag, watching as it bumps along, waiting for its person to show, feeling dismayed as more bags are claimed and the others trot away. Then, finally, a flush of triumph; our bags have cometh.

Bags claimed with grunts of exertion, we hustle on to the journey’s next stage: the rental car counter. There is some relief that all has gone well. I feel myself shedding travel anxiety. Every step has the potential to disrupt safe and succeful travel. Knock wood, it’s gone well for us.

We leave the baggage area tired but smiling, pressing back into the terminal against the flow of people coming down to find their bags. Good luck, I think to them.

Good luck.

0

Winceday’s Theme Music

Mood: ambivalent

We’re at 37,000 plus feet, 480 miles per hour. It’s Wednesday, 9/20/23. We just left Illinois behind, heading for San Francisco to Pittsburgh. Bumping ride right now, above a fuzzy streaked gray puffy cloudscape. We left coolish fall weather in Pittsburgh’s area, 56 and cloudy. The computer is reading weather from below and tells me that Chicago is 56 and rainy. We’re heading home to Ashlandia, where the dogs are above average and the cats are good looking. Ashlandia is currently 42 F and clear, but we expect sunny and 68 F as the day’s overall approach.

All went well back to the airport and onboard. Perfect timing all around. Glitchiest part was returning the Sixt rental car. Place wasn’t open, just a receptacle for the key. Say what? Nothing else? I’m suspicious. Dubious. I await the next phase of this. UPDATE: I done did it right: just drop off the keys. Nothing else required. Shazam.

Once onboard our United 737, things aren’t as rosy. Going first class because we’re fortunate, which gives us much more leg room and width, and demands less of proof of our. But my wife’s seat doesn’t go back much and her entertainment system is malfunctioning. I offer her mine; that’s imperiously dismissed. Her mood has changed fast. She engages the flight attendant about it. I can’t hear the conversation because of space and noise. The spouse doesn’t share with me what’s going on; that is the mood. Knees up against her chest, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes closed, she’s gone to a silent but angry place. I try engaging her but she doesn’t want to be engaged.

For music, I end up with “Ridin’ the Storm Out” by REO Speedway splatter through the morning mental music stream (Trademark dissected). That’s directly related to my wife’s state of mind after her issues with the flight issues with her seat. It’s like the gods of united airlines were deliberately pissing just on her.

Stay pos, be strong, stay cool, and press on. Fueled by black coffee, I’ll do the same. Here’s the music.

UPDATE: late posting, connectivity issues on der airyplane. We’re home safely, and those floofs are so over the kibble ecstatic about it. Had to feed them twice and love on them each three times. And the weather here is decisively cloudy, with dark skies beckoning rain. Hello, autumn.

Cheers

0

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: restless

Yes, it’s Tuesday, 8/19/23, and we’re ready to go home. Leaving on a jet plane tomorrow AM around 7, pushing us to leave the hotel at five, pushing us to get up at 4:40 AM. Ah, the inconvenience of modern travel. Still better than what it was one hundred years ago. Trying getting a flight back in the 1920s.

Meanwhile, this last day has extraordinary weather to me. Overcast, with a casual threat of rain, temperatures are hanging around the mid 60s F with some spitty hope it’ll hit 70. Don’t think it will, but the smell and feel is tres comfy to me. Sort of nostalgic and invigorating, a delightful blend, which would make a fortune if I could bottle it.

Sort of saddish ending to the trip. My sisters are busy with personal matters and their lives and we can’t get with them for that. Would like to have spent more time with them but after the wedding, the spouse and I sort of crashed, probably a reflex to relief that we’d made it, had done our part, and so on.

Now we’re focusing on getting home — see that first paragraph. We spoke to our floofsitter yesterday. She assured us all was well with the Tucker & Papi show. It’s been hot so they haven’t been eating much, which is how they often become. I’ll get home and indulge them with some extra late evening feeding and treats.

We are visiting Mom with the spare hours, and enjoying her company, along with her partner, Frank. Mom had an energy explosion in the afternoon. Inspired by the song “Hey! Baby” by Bruce Channel (1962). She was struggling to remember the song and as she spoke, the song came to mind and I sang it for her. That was it; Alexa was instructed to play it so she could sing along.

Then came David Lee Roth’s 1985 cover of “Just a Gigolo/I Ain’t Got Nobody”. She and Frank began dancing, which was fun to see; her health issues, especially with balance and mobility, have curtailed her dancing, and that was the couple’s favorite pastimes, besides eating. They still enjoy eating; I don’t know how and why they don’t wear more. They always have food on hand, and it didn’t help that my spouse and I took more food to them several times — cannolis, rolled eggplant, and one of their favors, KFC.

Well, that second song caught Les Neuron’s attention last night. They dropped it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark faltering), along with “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Tears for Fear, which arose from a dream. I went with ‘Mom’s song’ for the theme music.

Stay pos, be strong, don’t worry, be happy. Love life as best as you can. I’ve have had coffee, but help yourself. Here’s the beats. Cheers

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑