Tag: books

Friday’s Theme Music – Yesterday

Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, June 16, 2026.

Cooler forecast for today: 85 F. Thunderstorms and lightning are in the mix, making people apprehensive about lightning strikes and wildfires.

We had the windows open last night at 10.

“I smell smoke,” I said.

My wife agreed. “It smells strong.”

I went around closing windows and turned on a few exhaust fans. Then spent half an hour on different channels/media, trying to find where the smoke was coming from, what the threat was. 11 PM, I stepped out and took a deep breath.

Smoke smell gone.

Well, good. I returned inside and opened a few windows to continue cooling the house.

I’m a little groggy today. It’s a privileged whine, as I stayed up reading to finish a book, “Yesteryear”. I enjoyed it a great deal. Excellent satire. That’s the third terrific book I’ve read this month, the others being “James” and “A Drop of Corruption”.

All quiet with Mom. Mom is feeling better and asked when my sister, Gina, could come and visit with her, have a ‘real’ visit. Gina had to defer as her plate is filled with being parent & grandparent, taking care of Mom’s affairs, and working. There are also several graduations. It also happens that her vacation, planned for next week. It’s a trip down to the NC coast, where they’ve been going a decade, a small luxury to help her recharge. The house closing is set for July 17. She’s investigating whether it can be moved back, and whether she wants to.

Yesterday’s news was about the Iran truce deal. That was early hours. Later hours had Trump blustering about bombing Iran again if he’s not happy with the deal and how he thinks Iran is doing.

The Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool and Trump’s crowing about ‘fixing it’ is just like the Iran war. Trump complained about how the reflecting pool was, hired a crony to fix it and now it’s worse.

Trump starts something, boasts about how much greater he will make, and then it turns out it’s not. It becomes a recurring pattern of stupid is, stupid does.

The latest news out of the training facilities in San Antonio, Texas reflects the same pattern. The “I Know Better” administration decided flu vaccinations are not mandatory, but voluntary. About 40% of trainees opted IN for the flu vaccines. Now there’s 159 cases of flu reported and one recruit is dead. Way to go, Trump! Way to ensure the military is in top form and able to respond.

News yesterday included a report that a new Public Religion Research Institute (PRRI) poll of 5,469 adults found that 59% now believe Trump is a “dangerous dictator”. Last year showed 56% of Americans thought that, while the poll results in March resulted in 52%.

Acting quietly, it appears that the Trump administration secretly moved taxpayer’s money to pay for the Epstein ballroom construction. After often and loudly proclaiming that the US taxpayer wouldn’t need to pay for any of it, Trump asked Congress for the money and was denied. Now, using his standard tactics, Trump is siphoning and moving money to pay for it, money that Congress earmarked for other matters.

Is it any wonder that most of us see Trump as a dangerous dictator?

That’s just one of a multiple of reasons.

It’s all sticking on Trump now. Trump’s economic approval rating is at 33%, below the lowest rating that President Biden ever had.

Today’s song is “That Was Yesterday”. This is a rock ballad by Foreigner released in 1985 about a failed relationship. The Neurons plugged it into my morning mental music stream when I was talking with my wife this morning about the news. Something she said caused me to laughingly respond, “Well, that was yesterday.” The Neurons, being the inattentive buggers which they are, thought I wanted to hear the song and fired it up. Now I must pass it on to you.

The video begins with the end of some other song before it leaps into today’s music. Just bear with it, okay?

Hope your day follows positive twists and turns as you make your way from yesterday until tomorrow.

Cheers

5

At the Goodwill

My wife and I are on the Oregon coast. We ate a wonderful fresh breakfast at the Fresh Harvest Cafe. Then we hit the local Goodwill.

My wife enjoys visiting Goodwill stores. She likes bargains and she likes re-using things. She did say today, “I’m not buying anything new. I’m death cleaning so whenever I see something I want, I just tell myself, ‘You’ll just have to throw it out.'” Books are the exceptions. We bought four, two for each of us.

Killing time, I wander the store and write a short story in my head. It’s about a future Goodwill. Dystopian situation. A guy ransacks an unused house. There’s a lot of them. Finding a cache of shot glasses, he brings them to the Goodwill. They give him a small bag of peanuts for them. He sits outside in the sunshine, savoring every nut as he eats them.

My sister texted me about her grandson’s birthday. He’s already fifteen, thoroughly discombobulating my brain, which still thinks of him as much younger. His mother is still a teenager in my thoughts. To see that he’s now a teenager is too much. I do the slow math; I was fifty-five when he was born. Time, you know?

Sis tells me that her grandson went to an Escape Room for his birthday. Muses gather in my head to conceptualize fiction about Escape Rooms.

Sis interrupts with a text abut Mom. She’s taken Mom to Urgent Care for another suspected UTI. Mom complains about dizziness as she Mom gets in and out of her wheelchair and the car.

Browsing Goodwill shelves, I see things which might be in my home. I go through an aisle of tools and imagine my tools in there.

I believe I have seen the future.

Leaving the building, I breath in fresh air and smile at the sunshine on my face.

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Squirrel!

My wife and I were driving around, dropping off books at Little Libraries. So far, we’d dropped off twenty-five books at five Little Libraries. Only one stop remained.

I turned off East Main. It was sunny but rain was falling on the windshield.

“Squirrel!” my wife shouted.

I’d seen the squirrel bolting into the street and was braking before my wife said anything.

The squirrel and I both stopped. They turned and ran back to the sidewalk but stayed there.

I edged the car forward.

The squirrel edged forward.

I increased my speed.

So did the squirrel.

“Damn, dude, what are you doing?” I asked the squirrel through the window.

It turned right.

I accelerated away.

2

The Writing on the Page

I keep spying on the woman to my right.

Sounds quasi pervi, doesn’t it?

I just want to see her book, a small paperback. She flips through it, pen in hand, underlining passages.

I’m horrified and fascinated. Writing in books? I know others do this and it’s permitted under certain circumstances, but it’s something against my personal coda. Unless…is it a puzzle book?

What is this book she’s defiling? If only she’d put it down so that I can see it.

She left while I was busy writing. I never saw the book.

It’s another unsolved mystery.

1

Sometimes, These Things

I was running for exercise. As I did, I became aware of my body’s sounds. A novel concept emerge.

I curtailed the run and went home. Sitting down, I typed up the first twenty pages, about 2500 words, then went for water and to clean up and change clothes. While I was doing those things, I realized a potential ending and saw more scenes.

I added the book to my To Be Written document.

Just the way it goes, sometimes, you know?

5

Wednesday’s Theme Music – Why

Ashland, Oregon — Wednesday, April 1, 2026.

Rainy and 46, sunshine washes our house’s eastern side. Today’s high will be in the mid 50s and the low will drop to 32-35 F.

Mom and sis had a ‘good outing’ yesterday although in retrospect, my sister suspected Mom was trying to manipulate her. After the pharmacy run and Urgent care, Mom asked sis if they could drive by the house. Gina agreed but warned that they weren’t going in. Conversation ensued about how livable the house was but Gina told Mom that she didn’t think Mom could live there alone. Mom remarked that she needed some short-sleeved summer tops. Gina brushed it off but later thought that Mom was trying to get them into the house. We’re sure that if Mom had gotten in there, she would have refused to leave.

UTI was confirmed for Mom, along with blood in her urine. No word on further tests, yet.

I read good news yesterday on Diane Ravitch’s blog. A Federal judge ordered work on the Trump ballroom stopped. The judge questioned whether Trump had the authority to make the changes he was doing. Her second piece of reported good news from last week in that post, “A federal judge ruled on Tuesday that President Trump’s executive order barring the federal funding of NPR and PBS violated the First Amendment.”

Victories for We the People. We know that these decisions will be appealed to a higher court.

Over in the Supreme Court, we’re waiting to see if Trump’s executive order dicing up birthright citizenship and the 14th Amendment is judged legal. Trump attended the proceedings for a bit but left. I’m surprised he stayed awake.

Trump is giving a speech today about the Trump Iran War and about the US leaving NATO. He continues to send my WTF meter spinning with his consistent inconsistency. I suspect this is another ruse to distract from the Epstein files. The war is unpopular, though, and Trump’s approval ratings are showing it.

I also appreciated Paul Krugman’s post about the psychology of military incompetence and Pete Hegseth. I gleefully agree with Krugman: Hegseth is in over his head. Unfortunately, that doesn’t bode well for the safety of our nation or the lives of our people swearing to defend it.

I had a swarm of microdreams last night. When I sat and scribbled what I remembered, The Neurons played “I Got You” in the morning mental music stream. The Split Enz song was a 1980 hit. Reminds me a bit of the Cars. I’m not sure how it related to my thinking, though.

I hope the day goes well for you, no matter what you face or what the news brings.

Cheers

0

Tuesday Theme Music – Imaginary

Ashland, Oregon – Tuesday, March 24, 2026.

It’s warming today but not like much of the continental United States. Currently 68 F, our 75 F high will give us a comfortably warm day.

My wife purchased this little art piece for the house. It’s perfect for us, as we both enjoy reading, and I also write. I enjoy the little reader statue so much, I thought I would share.

My life is otherwise auto-pilot quiet as we go through routine tasks and await news or results.

As I often do, I began reading the news today and ended up struck with some ideas which evolved into a small piece about Trump world. I split it off.

Meanwhile, the basic theme stayed with me: imaginary. Much of Trump’s existence is based on false ideas, misconstrued history, and things which he imagines. My Neurons sensed the direction and introduced “Imaginary Lover” by ARS into my morning mental music stream.

It fits, though: “Imaginary lovers never turn you down.” That’s Trump and his base all the way; they never turn him down.

Also, despite all the files being suppressed and the history that shows Trump was friends with Epstein, Trump is trying to insist that’s not true. He’s trying to tell us that we imagine his relationship with Epstein.

I chuckled when I heard the song in my head. How many of Trump’s base imagine him as their lover?

I hope your day is comfortable, safe, and leaning toward optimistic outcomes.

Cheers

4

Dreaming: Not My Glass

I was at a very crowded camp. We were outside. Lot of activity going on, including food and drink being served, and eating. I was not alone but with a group of friends and casual acquaintances, but it seemed to change throughout the dream.

Two parts retain clarity. One, I was drinking red wine in goblets. Almost everyone was, so it was challenging to track what drink belonged to who. Two, a group of Black friends were talking about movies and books. I’d not heard of either one.

One showed me a book. It was thin children’s book. I think it was called Riverrun City. When he showed me the cover, it showed brown cartoon bears moving across it. I thought I’d heard of the book but admitted I’d not read it. I made promises to try to do so as they encouraged me.

I went back to get my glass of wine but couldn’t find it. I recalled that I’d just filled it and set it aside – out of the way – so nobody else would pick it up by accident. It wasn’t where I remembered I put it and thought, I either mis-remembered, or someone moved it.

I spotted another glass at a different location. It could be mine, but I wasn’t sure. I walked around looking but also understood, how the hell am I supposed to know what glass is ‘mine’? They all looked alike.

I went back to that one which ‘might’ be mine. There seemed to be brown fibers floating in it. I tasted it; it tasted like tobacco juice.

This is not my glass, I decided.  

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