With a blue sky lightly skewed with faint white clouds stretched across it, we’re continuing a mild weather trend. Woke up to 33 F in Ashlandia, where the coffee houses are warm and the coffee is above average. We still haven’t had any snow on the valley floor. I think we’ve usually had some snow by now during my eighteen winters here. Won’t get any today, as stagnant air keeps clouds from coming in and the clouds already here aren’t up to dropping snow. Our temperature will test the upper fifties before the sun’s influence capitulates to the Earth’s turn.
This is Saturday, December 16, 2023.
A busy day is planned for us. Besides the usual ration of Saturday writing, errands, shopping, and chores, we’re attending the Broadway Dancers and their annual flash mob presentation on the downtown plaza. A few friends are in the ensemble, and it’s fun watching their energetic precision presentations. Later, we’re joining friends at their house for a traditional Swedish smorgasbord. Should be fab.
For reasons known only to The Neurons, I’ve got “Heart Full of Soul” by the Yardbirds in my morning mental music stream (Trademark dated). The Neurons are full of secrets and surprises but this one wins the prize. Minding my own business as I did morning things involving the floofs, I found lyrics going through my head. After a few minutes of listening and following the crumbs The Neuons dropped, I recognized the 1965 song. Its presence truly mystifies me. I don’t think I’ve heard it in decades, but I vividly remember my older sister playing the 45 on her little record player. The guitar sound mesmerized me. I didn’t know the group at all then but later learned who they were, and that the guitarist on that song was Jeff Beck.
Stay pos and free, be strong and brave, and keep leaning forward. I’ve got enough coffee in me already that I’m doing those things, at least until the caffeine wears out. Here’s the music video. Cheers
Today is December 1, 2023. It’s Friday in Ashlandia, where the rain pours down like it’s Okinawa. We used to get some mighty downpours there.
Let me pause here to go turn over the wall calendar’s page. Made by Pete Lyons, it’s devoted to the racing I watched and followed when I was a teenager.
So it’s cold, 38 F, and rain comes down at an unrelenting pace. Wonder comes, will the sky ever run out of rain, which triggers story ideas to muse over as I feed the cats and sip my coffee. Then it’s to the news, where two large stories dominate in the morning cycle
Former Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor died, and Rep. George Santos was expulsed from the US House of Representatives. Both are news of a historic nature. Justice O’Conner was the first woman appointed to the SCOTUS. Took just over two hundred years from the time the court was established in the early days. Progressives like me were pleased because, hey, a woman has finally arrived in a place of power and respect in the US government, but also dismayed because she’s white and conservative. Can’t have everything.
At least O’Connor upheld Affirmative Action, and ended up supporting Roe v. Wade when its foundation was challenged. In the 1992 case, Planned Parenthood v. Casey, Justices O’Connor, Kennedy, and Souter, three conservative, Republican-appointed justices, surprised us with an opinion that reaffirmed the “core” of the 1973 precedent. It was an interesting opinion as they said that overtuning the precedent in the face of 1992’s political pressure would cause “both profound and unnecessary damage to the court’s legitimacy, and to the nation’s commitment to the rule of law.” That seems like what we’ve seen with Roe v. Wade being overturned by the current court, as it’s polarized the nation’s politics in a massive way and has many wondering about the SCOTUS court and its legitimacy, fearing that it’s become thorughly politicized by the right wing.
Much of my memory about O’Connor’s rulings and point of view was aided by the NYTimes’ story about her today. I thought this paragraph gave a good overarching summary of some of Justice O’Connor’s position on the matter of separation of church and state in a 2005 case.
In a 2005 case, McCreary County v. American Civil Liberties Union, she joined a 5-to-4 majority in invalidating the display of framed copies of the Ten Commandments on the walls of courthouses in Kentucky. Respect for religious pluralism had served the country well in contrast to other societies, she wrote in a concurring opinion, adding, “Those who would renegotiate the boundaries between church and state must therefore answer a difficult question: Why would we trade a system that has served us so well for one that has served others so poorly?”
As for George Santos, he’d been found to have told so many outrageous lies while practicing both shady campaign finances and personal finances, a plurality of the House Representativs finally decided it was enough and booted him. Those of us on the left cheer, “About damn time.” We felt he should never have been elected and his expulsion should’ve happened long before this, but at least it has happened.
Today’s theme music is rooted in last night. Looking at the clock as I was reading, I realized it was coming up o midnight. I thought, I’ll wait until midnight, and then get up and yadda, yadda, yadda. When I did get up to get ready for bed a few minutes post midnight, The Neurons began spinning “In the Midnight Hour” by Wilson Pickett, where it remains in the morning mental music stream (Trademark floundering). The song came out in 1965 (I looked it up), when I was nine. I don’t know when I first heard it, but it’s woven into my musical being as part of what shapes me. It comes on, and my head bops and my body sways. I snap my fingers to the beat, and sing the lyrics.
Stay positive, lean forward, and be strong. I’ve been drinking coffee, and I’m verge of finishing my morning cuppa. Here’s the video. Cheers
Summer’s bustin’ loose in Ashlandia, where the wine is fresh and the chocolate is made locally. 70 degrees F when I catapulted myself out of bed at Tucker’s insistence about 7 AM. Sunshine was climbing the blue dome, exiling clouds to other lands. My Oregon Scientific weather station said we cleared 99 locally yesterday. Weather geniuses tell us it’ll be 94 F as the high; I’m thinking we’ll see 96 at my house. Almost getting to air conditioning weather.
Well, A/C is used in the car, and all businesses. At the homestead, we avoid it. Wife prefers it a little warm, and I prefer fresh air whenever possible.
The Neurons have sown the morning mental music stream with a Bob Dylan song, “It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)” from 1965. My mind was primed to remember and hear the song by another’s post regarding scenes that ruined movies for them. One was Easy Rider.
I didn’t hear the song when it first came out, as I was nine. Mom controlled the music in that era. That was soon to end because sis was eleven and discovering pop. I don’t think I heard the song until much later, when the Easy Rider movie came out. Didn’t see the movie at that time due to its rating, but the songs found their way into my head via radio. Had my own transistor by then. I do sharply remember being mesmerized by the lyrics. I later learned they were written by Bob Dylan. I also later learned that the version I listened to and enjoyed was performed by Roger McGuinn.
While the lyrics rhymed, they were about things not usually heard in songs at that time, on those stations. Learning them had me singing them. I remember singing this song to myself while getting something in the kitchen where Mom was cleaning and my elder sister was on the phone.. Mom interrupted me: “Michael, what is that you’re singing?”
I thought she was referring to the title and provenance but she interrupted that answer. “What are those words?”
Since I didn’t know where I’d been stopped, I started from the beginning. Sis started laughing as she heard; Mom rolled her eyes, shook her head, and set her lips into the tightest of tight. She said nothing verbally, but those actions were loud. As I left and went around the corner into the living room, I heard her ask sis, “Do you know that song?”
The reply, “I might have heard it once on the radio.”
I stopped to hear more but nothing more was said and I went on. Made a big impression, though. It’s like it’s all before me once again.
It’s in the head today because the line, “There is no sense in trying,” in that sharply plaintive tone, came up in regard to local politics. Wife said something about why even try, and that’s how my brain responded, and along came The Neurons, and here we are.
Be pos, stay pos. At least try, right? I know some days, quoting my wife, it all becomes exhausting and overwhelming. The question, “What’s the point?”, may sneak in. That’s okay. It happens. Get on top of that and ride the wave until it’s behind you. That’s what I try to do. Generally works.
Hark. Is that coffee calling me? Here’s the music. Cheers
Darkness at the break of noon Shadows even the silver spoon The handmade blade, the child’s balloon Eclipses both the sun and moon To understand you know too soon There is no sense in trying.
Sunshine! Blue skies. Been wondering when they’d come a-calling again. Beginning to think blue skies and sunshine were ghosting me. I thought we were getting on well but then suddenly, nothing. Honesty, this weather is so fickle.
Back home in the manse. Cats thrilled to see us, demanding that we show how much we missed them. Attention and affection. Treats and food. More attention and affection. More. More.
It’s 54 F outside and feels like a pastoral spring day under development. 6:17 AM saw the sun step into Ashlandia. It’ll be here until 8:01. Weather debates offer us a range of high temps from 67 F to 71 F possible. I’ll take the higher one, thanks.
Came back to news of a death, cousin’s wife. Cousin died two years ago, cancer. Few years younger than me. Nobody has details about her death. Just catching up on more general news, mostly political, and Alphabet’s CEO’s pay of $200M per, local news. Been off the grid basically.
Songwise, Der Neurons plugged “My Generation” by The Who from 1965. I was nine when it was released but I became an enduring Who fan. That line, “People try to put us down,” is pretty apt. We’re boomers and oh how some of the youngsters are pissed with us. Speaks huge tomes about generational attitudes toward one another, doesn’t it? We were being put down as teenagers and put down as oldagers. Well, screw ’em, we say, but with more words. Of course, the most famous line out of the song is, “I hope I die before I get old.” Talkin’ ’bout our cynicism. Let’s not all just f-f-f-fade away.
Stay strong and positive. Hope the sunrise favors you with a satisfying day on each and every one. Here’s the music. Half my coffee is already gone. Good stuff.
Hearing the pursuit, we ran hard. “In here,” Pretzel shouted on my left. I twisted, planted my foot and made the cut, following him into a small path.
We crowded in panting like the sprinters we’d been. “What is this?” Maylie asked.
“I think it’s a time machine,” C-Jean said.
Don’t know about the rest but I did a mental, oh shit. “Don’t touch anything. We got to get out of here.”
“Oops,” Pharslei said.
The machine vibrated for two seconds. Ping, it said, like we were a done nuked meal.
“Where are we?” Maylie asked.
“Not where,” Pretzel said. “When. Time machine, itz. When are we?”
Sunday, April 23, 2016, it said. “Shit,” someone said.
The numbers blinked. April 20, 1623. Still Sunday. “I’m going to go see,” Pretzel announced.
“No,” I said, “Hold up.” That was the last I saw of him, though, going out that door.
Last I saw of any of them. Machine now said, April 16, 2023.
I left the booth. It vanished behind me. Tepid sunshine washed my face. Mostly I saw cloud layering like stacked grays. Still seemed like Ashlandia’s green deep valley, at least.
The Neurons have filled the morning mental music stream with “Where Have All the Good Times Gone”. Went with the Kinks’ original song from ’65. Fit with my state of mind. Shopping this morning, it seemed like such a dirge. Everyone shopper I eyed semed to be thinking, “I wish I was anywhere else.” Shopping has never been a leisure pursuit for me but it kicked my thinking down a memory path which lodged up against the question, where have all the good times gone? Follow up was, what constituted a good time?
Stay pos. I know, sometimes it’s touch. Feels like the world is on your shoulders, and it’s putting on more weight every second. Coffee helps me. Coffee; it’s what’s for breakfast.
Earth’s shift and clear skies has sunshine booming into the main bedroom. The room is on the northeastern corner, which is to say, the rear. Stunning to wake up to such golden light again. But the shift means that other house bits are darker again. Always adjusting…
It’s Saturday, 3.18.2023. We’re mourning for our friends, who’s beloved Purdue Boilermakers, #1 seed, fell in March Madness’s first round and is eliminated.
It’s 36 degrees F outside but the weather wicca tell us that Ashlandia highs will crest 65 F today. Was mighty fine yesterday, let me tell you. Spring fully ascended in all senses. Today’s sunrise was witnessed at 7:18 AM and the last of the sun in Ashlandia will be seen at 7:21 PM.
The weather pleases the housefloofs. Both are outside harvesting rays and grooming. Tucker’s thick white ruff, like a wondrous garment, shines in the light against his black markings, but Papi’s ginger and cream, marked with orange swirls, are pretty, too.
I have “Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright”, by Bob Dylan, in the morning mental music stream. A dream thing, an editing and writing thing, an admonishment to self, don’t think twice, stop overthinking matters, yo. One of my worst habits. Have a whole catalogue of them. I started with the Peter, Paul, and Mary version. Then, thinking about it, I recalled Willie Nelson singing it, so I went hunting for it. Then I found a live version with Bob D. and Eric C. I decided I’d go with it, so here you are.
Stay positive. The day is full of great possibilities. Got my coffee. Time to go do some things. Stay with it. Here’s the tune. Cheers
Light and shadows tangoed on the bedroom walls. The wind had come up and at 7:24 AM, the sun showed it. Working together, they had the trees dancing.
It’s Thursday, March 16, 2023. A Sunday pizza party is on for a few friends. One of them likes organizing this about every five to six months. Just a get-together to eat, chat, and see faces. Three couples, six faces.
It’s 42 degrees F at my Ashlandia place. Blue skies. Sunset will be at 7:16 this evening. Till then, the temperature will go up the numbers until finding 44 F.
Just finished reading a couple books — We Are Legion (We Are Bob), The Chalk Circle Man — and am starting The Thursday Murder Club and Full. Contacting contractors is in the to-do list for various house improvements and repairs, since it’s March and the weather should become acceptable for these things to be done, like painting the house and repairing a window. And isn’t it interesting that ‘contractor’ is one of those words that end in ‘-or’ instead of ‘er’?
The cats are out. They like the sunshine and warmer temps but dislike the wind. Neither are wind fans. I expect one to start beating on the door at any moment.
“Nowhere Man” by the Beatles (1965) is stuck in the morning mental music stream. I don’t know if The Neurons desposited them or some other agency. No clue as to the why it’s playing. I’ve used it as theme music before and wrote about it then so I’ll not re-state all that. Just seems to fit some mode today. Maybe I feel like I’m nine again on some level. I chose this video they took about doing the song and then perform it in a ‘live’ setting, comparing it to the notes ingrained in my head. I’ve always been intrigued by the differences between studio recordings and how the band play it live.
Some of the catalyst for “Nowhere Man” might be the text exchanges with Mom. I’m asking her about the inspiration for her children’s names and the story behind my own. Michael wasn’t first choice. Anyway, I’d known a few of those stories and was surprised that the story was different this time. Did I mis-remember or is she telling it differently? I go with the latter. Either way, it’s a little bummer that what I recall isn’t what I hear now, because one of us is changing their tale.
Here’s the music. Hope you enjoy it. I’m off to let the cats in and get coffee. Stay pos, and carpes Thursday. Cheers
Time to start the day and get underway. We’re at the port of Friday, January 20, 2023. Next destination: Friday evening. We’ll get there after the sun sets on Ashlandia, 5:10 PM.
“Ashlandia, where time is never the same.”
Sunrise at 7:36 AM found Ashlandia frost bound beneath full blue skies. Snow and ice still cap higher mountains and ridges, a winter photo delight against that blue. 25 degrees F says the local weather station while prognosticators tell us that a 48 degree F high is expected. That’s a little cold for Ashlandia’s winters. We usually see the thermo squeaking down to 30 before braking to a full stop, but we’ll live. We’ll complain, but we’ll live. Well, some, such as me, complain, but others just march along with it. The shelters are open for whoever needs them, and hot meals are being provided gratis in several locations. Crews have remained busy removing fallen trees from the month’s earlier windstorms. A drive around yesterday showed all were gone. No houses or buildings experienced major damage, so we’re thankful for that.
My wife remains in bed, affected by her RA and Raynaud’s. One of her fingers looks ghastly, white and waxen. She says it’s painful and stiff but doesn’t complain. She was planning to make me a cherry pie yesterday but I nixed that. We just had sugar pie instead. She skipped her exercise class this morning, which is never a good omen.
Mom’s list of issues continuous a daunting trend of increasing. Little seems to improve for her and pain shadows every decision and conversation. She soldiers on, a tough old broad, as she likes to self-reference, but she seems so tired from the constant fight to live.
With all the dreams I had last night, The Neurons packed the morning mental music stream with songs on dreaming. I ignored them. We lost David Crosby this week, another talented musician who brightened my life. The Byrds were on The Ed Sullivan Show in 1965, which was my childhood, playing “Mr Tambourine Man”. I was nine then. Though a little too mellow for my budding rock and roll tendencies, I admired their style and harmony and their songs stayed comfortably lodged in my mind. Formation of CSN and then CSN&Y was a positive addition to the folk-rock scene, where their harmonies and smart lyrics adjusted my budding teenage attitudes.
Got my coffee. French roast, which is my usual. Unsweetened and untouched by milk or cream, it offers a sharply bitter living on my tastebuds, with a friendly chocolatey overlay.
Stay positive. Sail on to new horizons. Here’s the music, in living color. Cheers
Time for electric Elevens. Yes, we’re on the 11th of Jan, 2023. Coming up on the month’s halfway point of the new year’s first month.
Little has changed for me and it feels depressing. I’m sipping coffee in hopes of elevating my mood. Don’t know why I’m down but I can speculate on reasons. Could be the fog, rain, and wind swirling around outside. Wind sounds like it’s planted someone right outside the window to make ghostly woooooo noises. Writing the first draft and working on it to improve the story could be depressing me because it feels like there’s so much more still to do. Maybe it’s just the news and its unchanging flavors of death and politics, and the ugly, jaundiced textures that infuse it. Or, it could be that I’m in a rut and it wearies me, looking up the rut’s same walls. Probably just my time of month, when hormonal changes bring out my dark side. I could also chalk up to SAD, one supposes. Reminder to self to not make any impulsively stupid decisions today, because this will pass, brother.
Wednesday has landed on us. The fog has moved back and up, so I can see more world. Chainsaws and chippers drone and sing, informing me of another tree’s demise. Outside, it’s 42 degrees F again though it feels like 33. Flat white clouds with a tincture of gray have overwhelmed the sun. Sunrise was same as yesterday, 7:39 AM, but sunset has inched a few minutes back and will now be at 5 PM sharp.
Two songs compete in the morning mental music scream stream. The Neurons have me hearing “Just My Style” by Gary Lewis & the Playboys from 1965. Okay. The other is “Self Esteem” by the Offspring from the middle of the 1990s. I can guess why The Neurons are doing this to me. The same lines keep repeating, from one and then the other. First we have the bass delivery, “Don’t you know that she’s,” followed by the rest of the band singing “Just my style,” from the first song. Then the Offspring sing, “The more you suffer, the more it shows you really care, right? Yeah.” Both have been featured in this space before. I’ll flip a mental coin for which one is today’s theme music.
Time to drink up this coffee and pretend it’s a day. Stay positive! Test negative. Rise above yourself, I tell myself. I’ll suggest the same to you. Let me end this whiney scree. Hey, look sunshine! Too slow — it’s gone. Keep an eye out; it’ll be back.
Something crashed into me. Once mental equilibrium was restored, I raged, “What happened.” Looking around, I discovered that I’d been hit by Wednesday. Right in the middle of the week, too. Examining it in the mirror, I admired a developed welt and darkening contusion. Wednesday was leaving a mark. That’s how life goes for Day Hunters. Sometimes they strike back.
This is August 31, 2022, which happens to be September Eve. Naturally, I’m gonna dress up and party, as my tribe has done since they first illuminated recorded history.
Sunrise broke night’s grip on the valley at 6:35 AM. Night fled but vowed to return at 7:47 tonight. I admired his willingness to express such a specific time in this day of vague promises. It’s a lovely 21 C right now, but Purple Air says wildfire smoke from Rum Creek to the northwest and another blaze in California pours a blend into the air that makes it red, 148, and unhealthy for sensitive folks. That must include me. I’m zinging sneezes and coughs to beat the band (an expression that seems very confusing and leaves me wondering about its origins). Eyes are teary and the nostrils are smarting. So, I’ll take precautions, y’all, if I were me, which I think I am.
The Neurons have plucked a Stevie Wonder song out of the 1965 memory cells and loaded it into the morning mental music stream. I always loved the energy of “Uptight (Everything Is Alright)”. Knowing this, following a successful writing expedition which naturally also rendered me anxious (does this work or am I fooling myself?), The Neurons kicked the song on in a game effort to reassure me.
Over to you, Jim. Here’s the music. I’m setting off into the kitchen’s darkest corners in a quest to find a cup of hot, black coffee. Come at your own peril if you wish. Stay positive, test negy, and so on. Don’t look know, my fellow Americans, but Labor Day weekend is rising out of the calendar’s murky depths. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 