Tag: blog

Saturda’s Theme Music

Papi and I weren’t synced this morning. At some ridiculously early hour, he banged on the pet door. I let him in. He thundered through the house in a burst of spring energy. I stumbled back to bed.

Minutes later, he thumped to come back in. The pet door was on because of smoke. Controlled burning was the smoke source. Controlled burning is a lot like vaccinations. There’s some immediate reaction but benefits to doing it are established.

I took the pet door off and let Papi back in. He returned within minutes, banging to come back in. I talked to the floof about it. Showed him the door was off and the pet door was open. Reminded him how it worked. He galloped away as I was speaking.

So went Saturda’s dawn stage on May 10, 2025, for me in Ashlandia. A cooling trend has been embraced. Dropping our high to 79 F today. It’s 71 F and sunny now. Visibility for a long way and more. Clouds are negotiating with the blue skies and sunshine. I’m unfamiliar with their negotiating skills, so I don’t know how it’ll turn out.

Anyway, after that, I hung in bed for a while, revisiting a dream. Papi kept coming back to see if I was going to provide him fresh food and affection. While I finally acfloofesced to his antics, a song started playing in the morning mental music stream.

“Bang on the Drum All Day” is by Todd Rundgren. Came out in 1983. It’s a lively and happy song about the urge not to work. Don’t know if you’ve ever had that urge. It had a strong grip on me today. Probably because my sleep was floofrupted.

More stories about Trump’s United States are emerging. How ’bout those Newark airport radar failures? That’s some reassuring shit. Fits right in with the trend of increasing aircraft accidents. Many more accidents than in last year. So air travel was safer under President Biden. To channel my inner Trump’s voice, “Air travel is a LOT WORSE with TRUMP as President!!! This could be the GREATEST year for DEADLY plane crashes than ANY TIME in the HISTORY OF THE WORLD!!!” An ongoing shortage of air traffic controllers doesn’t alleviate MY worries about air travel in ‘Merica.

But, PINO Trump’s Regime is on it! Yes, the team that fired people and then rehired them because they found out they needed them is going to hire more air traffic controllers. Gonna supercharge the system, they claim. This is being brought to you by the same regime with Defense Secretary Hegseth giving away secrets on unsecured systems. The same gang who declares NOBODY IS ABOVE THE LAW while they elevate PINO Trump to a position ABOVE THE LAW. Same folks who think empty ports are great because then we’ll lose less money! Same people destroying the national parks system created through decades of work by people from both parties. Yes, tattoo me as cynical, but I don’t think that Trump Regime is up to fixing the air travel problems.

Coffee has engaged The Neurons. We now return to our normal programming. Hope it all goes well for you today, tomorrow, and so on. Here we go again. Cheers

1

Well, I’ll Be Damned

Daily writing prompt
Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.
View all responses

I read aloud.

“Hello, old man! If you’re reading this letter, then you made it: you’re 100 years old! Congratulations to you.

“Or, congratulations to me, I should say. I set you up for your success, right? Come on, give me credit. I’m the one who signed the contracts, took the money, made the payments.

“Yes, there are some downsides. You should be 100 years old but you’re probably not living on Earth. Part of the agreement, right? I have no idea which planet you ended up settling, either. That’s one reason why you’re getting a preserved paper letter. If you’re reading this, you remember all of this. It’ll be as real to you as it is to me. And you know all the details. Hell, biologically, you’re younger than me now, because they gave you a new body, assuming they lived up to their end of the agreement. You should now be 25 biologically, which, yes, you know. Yes, you’ll be another color; you won’t be white. Small price, right? They weren’t sure whether you would be blue or green. Said both of those were possible with our genes. Wish you could write me back and tell me.

“Hard to write this. I know things but you know them, too. But I write to think, to make sense of it all. I never expected the things to happen which did. The war. Getting frozen. Sent to storage in space, then returned to Earth. I mean, as you know, I know these things, but it’s all abstract to me. Happened to me but I wasn’t conscious of it. Not this version of — well, yeah, you know.”

I stopped reading then. I knew what the letter said. I just wrote it yesterday. Realizations were creeping up. I’m a slow thinker but I usually get there.

So I took in the shimmering individual standing before me. Gorgeous guy. Blue. Azure. Well built. So tall, his thick, glossy black hair brushed the room’s ceiling.

“You’re me,” I said. “But you don’t look anything like me.”

He snorted. “Yes, I know. I’ve seen myself and I see you now, along with the old photos of you. They gave me options to change my appearance and I took them.”

“I see.” I smiled.

“I mean, wouldn’t you?”

“I probably would. Well, I did, because you’re me and…anyway. So, you made it. I made it. We made it.”

“Oh, yes. It’s quite a future, so improved over this. And you wanted to know what color we’d be, so….” He shrugged.

“You came back to show me.”

He grinned. “Bingo. Well, mostly. I also came back to thank you.”

Stepping forward, he offered me his huge hand. “I don’t want to get mushy, but thank you. Thank you for having the fortitude to persevere. Thank you for the decisions you made and supporting the science. Thank you for trusting it.”

Setting the letter I’d written to my hundred-yead-old self onto the desk, I stood and shook his hand. “You’re welcome.”

2

Twosda’s Theme Music

Hard to think of this as Twosda. The news cycle overflows the norms like flood waters rushing across the plains.

It’s another hazy shade of winter in Ashlandia. Our temperature is hovering at a more springish 48 F, bestowing us with a feel of winring. Will the sun heed the Doors and break on through? Is rain on its way? The betting windows are still open.

This is Twosda, Feb. 18 2025. I own a lot start after some night hours were investing in comforting and helping a sick floof. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) has been under the weather. He’s resting well now but with uncertainty about his condition, who knows? Fingers and toes crossed and everything.

The Great 2025 American Shitstorm rages on as the Trusk Regime continues wreaking havoc, doing everything to make it all over in PINO Trump’s shallow, broken image. They’re cunning bastards and morally corrupt, basically confirming the worse of what we’ve come to see in the right wing and oligarchs. They want it all and fuck the people. The GOTP’s compass is all about getting re-elected and staying in office, so they’ll only cowardly resist with micey squeaks if their constituents complain. I’d say it’s gonna be a long four years but this has the taste of something more ugly and sinister, a poison pill to remake the United States for the rich and white, with a token nod to Christianity.

Today’s music is a product of serendipity. I’ve been encountering the Scottish synthpop trio CHVRCHΞS in multiple settings over the last week. They were on my car radio last week. Paul Krugman used them a few times as his Coda, I spotted them on SNL, heard them online through another’s post, and encountered them again on the car radio coming home yesterday. On a surprise scale that goes to seven as the strongest indicator for surprise, it was a one when Der Neurons began a CHVRCHΞS song in the morning mental music stream today. I always liked the song “Leave A Trace” from 2015.

Lauren Mayberry sings,

And you had best believe
That you cannot build what I don’t need
And I know I need to feel relief
And I know you’ll never fold
But I believe nothing that I’m told
And I know I need to feel relief

h/t to AZLyrics.com

I enjoy her voice. In some songs, she reminds me of Deborah Harry. Other times, it seems like she’s echoing Dolores O’Riordan of The Cranberries. Sinead O’Connor’s similarities also sneak through.

And yes, there are shadows of 2025 politics spilling through those lyrics for me. The GOTP is tryhing to build what I don’t need, what the world doesn’t need. And yep, some relief from their shitshow would be welcomed in my psyche. But they ain’t gonna fold and go away. Their efforts to create a nation mocking the founders’ ideas keeps on with no relief.

Quick reminder. Friday, Feb. 28, 2025, is a planned day of boycott. Hope you’ll participate. We are. The more the merrier. While it’s targeted on corporations which rolled back DEI policies under PINO Trusk’s encouragement, like Amazon, Target, Best Buy, PBS, NPR, Coca Cola, Pepsico, McDonald’s, Starbucks, and more. Costco is one of the few major corporations which stood firm against DEI changes. Share the news. Make it real. It begins at 00:01 AM on Feb 28th and ends at 11:59 PM.

Coffee has breached my defenses despite my efforts. I admit, I was complicit in coffee’s invasion. Put the water in the machine, added coffe, turned it on, poured it into a mug, put the mug to my lips, tipped up the mug, let the dark goodness cover my tongue and swirled down my gullet. Hope you have a strong, positive day. Here we go. Cheers

0

The Lost Tables Dream

This was obviously a dream about change. Anxiety. Confusion.

My wife and I were young people. We had a habit of driving to work together. We were taking turns driving. One would drive one day, the other would drive the next day. The dream showed this happening. Different cars for her and me; my car was a black sports car. Don’t know any details of it. Less is known of her car.

Although always going to the same place, part of our daily drive process was to consult on our phone about where we were going. That’s because the path changed every day. So whoever wasn’t driving was tasked with looking up the destination on the map and give driving instructions.

The dream showed this. I drove, she drove, I drove, she drove, etc. She looked up the directions, I looked them up, she looked them up, I looked them up.

Traffic was busy each day but the weather was good.

Our daily destination was a parking lot by a restaurant. We’d park near there and go on our separate ways to work. After numerous days of this, I was driving. My wife was looking up the instructions. But she was struggling with a signal and I, meanwhile, had made some guesses and found the way. She announced, “Got it,” right as we arrived at the restaurant.

But as I pulled up, I noticed that it was completely different. All of its tables were gone. The usually thriving place was completely empty.

Stunned, I told my wife, “Look. Something happened.” She was busy getting out of the car and heading to work so I repeated myself several times, further elaborating, “There’s no one there. The tables are gone. The place is empty.”

She left for work. I walked over to the area and then walked through the empty place, wondering how it had all changed, seemingly overnight. What I wondered most was, where are all the tables? They had so many tables. There was no sign that any tables had ever been there. As I stood there looking, I saw others hurryng by in the sunshine.

None gave the place a second look.

0

Windsday’s Theme Music

Mood: springtimistic

Welcome to Windsday, December 11, 2024. We’re calling it Windsday here in Ashlandia as the wind is calling the moves and has the trees square-dancing under a white slab of sky. Currently, the thermometer sits at 42 F and the thermostat rests at 68 F. Today’s high will see the measuring one stab at the low fifties.

We descended on friends’ house for their birthday party last night. The couple have been married 45 years and share the same birthday. So, per their wishes, we arrived with pizza from their favorite place, a salad my wife provided, and a few pints of Talenti ice cream. Intelligent and engaging people a few clicks older than us, a good time was had. They have two young cats who are not permitted to be outside except in their backyard on a harness or in their catio. For some reason, the wife gave me two containers of Applaws sardine and mackarel catfood. I fed our floofs one of these this morning. Man, they licked the bowls clean and stumbled away, grinnin’ and lickin’. I think they liked it.

Our late purveyor of news, Ashland Daily Tidings, had a Frankenstein moment. The newspaper name and their old website were used to provide fake news to the world. Yes, because the world has a fake-news shortage, I suppose. No, whoever did it is just sucky people doing sucky things. I suppose the bottom line is that their life sucks and they want to spread the suck. Thus, I suspect that they are rightwingers. Modern rightwingers aren’t happy unless everyone conforms to their sucky version of being. Now that they’ve elected a sucky guy who will be a sucky prez, and is assembling a sucky administration, the suckiness will commence in January.

But, The Neurons said. The Neurons have “The Rose” playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sucky). “The Rose” was a 1979 hit for Bette Midler out of the movie called The Rose. The Neurons are riding the lines that go, “Just remember in the winter, beneath the bitter snow, lies the seed that with the sun’s love in the spring becomes the rose.” Good idea to rally around: with this sucky prezzidency falling over us, we’re going into winter. But we just must nurture those seeds of freedom, democracy, equality, and sanity, and help them bloom when the sucky winter is over.

Lean toward the sun. Be pos. Coffee and I have begun a new day of collaboration. Here’s the music. Cheers

0

Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

When I returned from the coffee shop writing session yesterday, my wife related a story she’d read.

A man began a new habit of going to the coffee shop every Saturday morning. He enjoyed the atmosphere and would surf the net on his phone and text friends while nursing a coffee drink and nibbling a pastry. After a few weeks of this, he discovered he and the owner had once been friends. Then, life happened. This disconnected but now reconnected in a casual way.

One day the guy received an email from the coffee shop owner. The owner said that the barista complained that the man was ogling her on Saturday mornings and that the owner was going to have to bar him. The man refuted what was happening. Through a back and forth series, he convinced the owner that wasn’t the case.

Meanwhile, the barista was moved off Saturday morning to another schedule. Therefore, the owner said, the man would be welcomed back.

Fuck you, the man wrote back.

I wholly understood and agreed. That place would never be the same for him, and other coffee shops would probably be tainted for him as well.

Sad that it came to that. Made me wonder, as I sit in the coffee shop and people watch, what did that barista think she saw?

4

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑