Munda’s Theme Music

Suming continues in Ashlandia. It’s a spring base with heavy summer nuances today, Munda, June 2, 2025. Presently 60 F, we’ll pop through 80 before the sun declares fini.

I’m in a bit of a hurry this morning. Time again for us to do Food & Friends deliveries. After that, it’s back to the writing routine and then beginning of month chores. I also pruned trees and bushes around the yard, and now must cut it all down and put it in the green bin for pickup tomorrow.

Haven’t heard back from Mom in days. I’ve regularly texted her. I do know she’s okay. Little sister’s youngest just turned 17. I saw Mom in FB photos of he bash. The lad, named Michael because one can’t have enough Michaels, is the youngest of the nieces and nephews. The next generation of them are nipping on his heels, as they’re sixteen. All are impressive examples of human beings, so far; we know how people change as they age, don’t we? Well, not everyone. But many inevitably shift into someone else who may be better or worse.

My wife bought a book this weekend called A Short Stay in Hell. It’s very short but thought-provoking. We both read it and then discussed its ideas.

With my nephew’s birthday in the rear view, it should be no surprise that thoughts of generations and transitions are occupying The Neurons. They dug out The Who with “My Generation” from 1965. Love the video of the era. The basics of people walking, dancing, and working aren’t much different from what we’d see in a video produced today. Shoes, clothing, and hair styles would be the most notable aspect of the differences, along with cars and vehicles. Since there’s no sound, we’d miss the other facet of change: how talk has changed. But of course, any video of people on the streets today would be peppered with folks on cell phones., right?

Time to make it a Munda, just as so many generations before me. I’ll start with coffee. Cheers

The Writing Moment

I completed revising and editing the novel in progress. Gravity’s Emotions.

I wrote the novel I wanted. The story I wanted to read. As ‘they’ always advise and suggest. ‘They’ are the establishment. The writers who made it. The teachers who teach it. The editors who edit it, the publishers who print it, the agents who represent it. Of course, once the writer writes the novel they want, ‘they’ all take their turns on it. That’s the art, and the business. Then it gets to the readers.

Woo, boy.

My doubts have been kicking me, heaping scorn on my effort. Those doubts are always ready to jump on me. Doesn’t matter what’s going on. They are what they are.

“Your idea of inconsistent consistent inconsistency is ridiculous,” they growl. “It’s too complicated. Too surreal and too far out there. And the book is too big. That’s also a stupid title.”

“Thanks, guys,” I answer. Because there is no arguing with doubt. Let it come, beat you up, expend its energy, and walk away. Don’t engage your doubt. That’s what ‘they’ say.

The doubts do present legitimate points. The manuscript is an epic monster. 700 pages. Umpteen billion words. Lot of fun to write, edit, revise. Amazing that I wrote that thing in a few hours a day. I started it in July of 2024. I often ponder, HTF is that possible? It neatly slots into my thoughts about duality: it was at once hard work and a long time and a lot of hours, and not much time, not too difficult, and a lot of fun.

Meanwhile, the draft is being distributed to my small core of private readers. See what they think. Decisions will be set regarding their feedback. Then, into the submission maws.

While that’s all happening, another novel is already underway.

Frida’s Wandering Political Thoughts

A Democratic Party insider told me who the party supports as candidate for the 2028 nominee for POTUS.

“John F. Kennedy.”

I raised a salient objection. “He’s dead. Worse, he’s been buried.”

“True, true, true.”

“You’re not talking about a clone.”

“Of course not. That’d be silly. No, we’re thinking, AI.”

“Articial Intelligence?”

“What else? Listen, if corporations are people, why can’t AI be people?”

“I need to think about that,” I answered.

“Okay, let me tell you more. See if I can convince you. What we did is create an AI that’s modeled on President John F. Kennedy’s thinking. We fed all the interviews which we could find, all his papers, speeches, books, diaries, and journals, along with biographies about him, into a quantum computer. It then developed the ability to replicate JFK’s thinking and speaking, giving us a virtual entity who is just like him. It’s uncanny. Wait until you see it.”

I was shaking my head in skepticism. “It’ll never work.”

“We think it will. He polls very well.”

“I don’t think people are ready for AI to be elected to any office.”

“No, no, turns out that almost 80 percent of likely voters who were polled said they could support AI for president. A majority of voters think that AI is more principled and intelligent than many politicians holding office or running for nomination. In fact, more people are willing to vote for AI than a woman.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, but what about his assassination over sixty years ago? Surely, that’s a drawback.”

“No, no, no. Many people have always believed that JFK wasn’t really killed, that all of that was just a fiction to get him out of office.”

“Even if they believe that, it’s six decades later. He’d be over a hundred years old. Do you really think that people will support a candidate who is over hundred years old after what we endured with Joe Biden?”

My source grinned. “We told them that JFK was cryogenically stored. He’s only fifty years old.”

“They believe that?”

“You’d be surprised what they believe. Just to seal the deal, Elvis Presley is endorsing JFK.”

“Presley?” I laughed. “He’s been dead since — “

“No, no, he wasn’t dead. He was in storage, too. Trust me. We’ve done the research. The numbers support this idea.

“Presley and Kennedy are still alive. Along with Walt Disney and Jackie O. All are alive. They’ve all just been frozen. The time has come for the truth to be told.”

My source leaned forward. “The people are ready for Camelot’s return. JFK will kick Trump’s ass. Remember, you heard it here first.”

The Learning Dream

My wife and I were at a pool. I somehow got involved in a swimming class. Others were doing it. There was a white cloth or panel on the pool’s bottom. Our guidance was to take a deep breath, dive to the bottom, get the item, swim to the other side of the pool and surfaced.

My wife laughed. “He’s a really strong swimmer. He’ll do that without trying.”

I did. I’m not a strong swimmer but I’m good at holding my breath.

After doing that on the first attempt, they set me loose in free-practice to keep getting better.

Next, we moved inside. Now I was helping with some kind of television or streaming shopping channel. I was to write on a piece of cardboard and then slid the info forward so some announcer could see it. The info was being given to me by another person, and I was to keep writing the new price as it came in and show it.

Well, I screwed it up the first two times. I did well the third time, and then the people told me to keep practicing. I did for a while and then someone came by and told me I had a new assignment. This involved reading textbooks. The assignment confused me. “I’m just supposed to read them all? Will there be tests?” Yes, I’m to read them all, astounding me. A large range of topics were included. Stacks of books awaited my eyes. And yes, I would be tested.

I began that assignment and was startled about how fast I discovered I could read and learn. After four of five books, I was just fanning the pages. Witnessing this, my wife chastised me. “You’re supposed to be learning this.” I laughed back. “I am. Give me a book. I’ll read it and you can ask me questions, and I’ll answer them.”

She gave me a book. I read it. She asked me three questions, and I answered them all.

Another instructor arrived. I was being taken to a new class. The instructor said, “In this class, you’ll be taught how to use energy to change things.” I asked, “What kind of things will I be able to change?”

She answered, “Wait and see.”

The dream ended as a cat tapped my hand and meowed.

It was a very uplifting and energizing dream.

It’s One or Another

Daily writing prompt
If you could be a character from a book or film, who would you be? Why?

I write fiction. I love writing novels. I don’t work so much on publishing them afterwards. Writing them is the fun of it. Fiction writing always lets me be other characters.

Today was typical. As I worked on the novel in progress, I was several characters. A mashup of genres, I told the muses that all genres are welcome in this tome. So, today, one of the principle characters in the scene was the talking dog, Sly.

Sly is a small dog. His name is short for Sylvester. Besides talking, he’s a thought reader. His owner is Instant, a rock and pop star who uses magic to enhance her performances and control her fans. They live on a starship named the Stellar Queen.

When Sly was introduced chapters ago, he came in to give specific warnings and revelations. When I thought about his voice and tone, I began imagining my father’s words coming out of Sly’s mouth. Thereafter, Sly’s behavior model is my father. Later, I realized with a start, Dad’s nickname among some of his friends is Sly. Kind of trippy. I named the dog before ever thinking about his behavior.

I think my favorite character in the novel, though, and the one who I would prefer to be, is Ari Four. As part of his modelling,another fictional character inspires him. That’s Uhtred of Bebbanburg, son of Uhtred, played by Alexander Dreymon in a television series called The Last Kingdom. The television series is based on a series of novels by Bernard Cornwell. Uhtred is based on some history, and Cornwell’s distant forebear. Besides sometimes acting irrational, staunchly adhering to principles when others urge him to abandon them, Uhtred is bold, loyal, and decisive. He’s willing to fight.

Ari Four is always urging, “We must do this now.” He speaks forcefully, as Uhtred would. If someone else is about to pull a sword, Ari Four will pull his first. That’s the thing about fiction writing. Like fiction reading and watching movies, plays, and television shows, you can let yourself be someone else for a while.

Even if it’s just your father, the dog.

Twosda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

Out in Texas, they’re busy building a nanny state. Cos words are scawy! Sex is scawy! Books! Scawy! Freedom to read bad! Censorship is good!

They’re trying to take a quantum leap back to another era, where sex is hidden and all the men are virile and heterosexual and women are pristine and pure. You know, like it never was, except in fiction.

Texas lawmakers advance bill that makes it a crime for teachers to assign “Catcher in the Rye”

Currently, if someone is charged with providing sexually explicit content to a child, they can argue that the content was provided in pursuit of a scientific, educational, or governmental purpose. SB 412 and HB 267 would remove this affirmative defense. This defense exists because, while some people provide explicit content to children to harm them, books that include sexual content have long been a valuable component of secondary education. Many classic works of literature, including “The Odyssey,” “Catcher in the Rye,” “Brave New World,” and “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest,” have sexually explicit scenes.

Under SB 412, which the Texas Senate voted to advance last week and now awaits approval by the House, teachers and librarians would no longer be able to argue that sexually explicit content can serve an educational purpose. Only law enforcement officials and judges would be exempted under the new law. SB 412 also leaves in place an exception if the adult providing the sexually explicit content is married to the child, which is legal in Texas, with a judge’s approval, if the child is at least 16 years old.

George Orwell would be proud of these ‘modern’ Texans. Set up the cameras! Thy must, in order to ensure no one is circumventing a law and providing ‘dirty’ material to children who are only seventeen. Unless they’re married. Children can be married in Texas. So a child can be married and then be expected to have sex and raise a child but until that point, knowing about sex in literature is verboten.

Man, that is one fucked up state, thanks to the uptight, fucked-up Republicans guiding them. Might as well go ahead and start calling it the Nanny Star State.

The Three Rs

Daily writing prompt
What activities do you lose yourself in?

My primary time suck comes down to the three Rs: Reading, Riting, and Research. Yes, I spelled writing wrong, dropping the ‘w’. But it’s a silent ‘w’, isn’t it? Does riting sound that different from writing? Does riting sound rong?

Looks weird as hell, I admit.

I could have also just changed the title to The Three Ws, adding a silent ‘w’ to reading and research, creating wreading and wresearch.

I enjoy words. Their histories fascinate me. And I enjoy making things up. That’s why I rite fiction.

I also love reading, or, as some might rite it, wreading. The ‘w’ is silent. I read multiple genres, although I shy away from horror and wromance. Science fiction narrowly leads fantasy and historical fiction, but I enjoy thrillers and mysteries, too. I also enjoy non-fiction about history, economics, politics, quantum mechanics, and time.

Besides wreading and writing, I enjoy wresearch. Wresearch can easily become a time suck. Once upon a time, a show called Connections aired. The British science historian, James Burke, hosted the show. The show explored technological and scientific progress but veered off into tangents and side effects about how such advances were employed, resulting in surprising revealations. That sort of revelatory pingpong the show employed stirred me to continue such wresearch. The Internet is a tremendous catalyst to such wresearch.

My wresearch goes everywhere. Some of it is anchored to childhood memories of sports, politics, historic events, science, and pop culture. I remember things but often want to validate my memory. Verifying that I correctly remember matters causes me to delve deeper into details and background information, and often triggers side journeys into related matters.

When I was employed, my three time sucks secured me solid positions and helped foster my success. Now a retiree, I happily pursue them every day.

There are way worse ways to live.

Playin’ Favorites

Daily writing prompt
What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.

I so dislike questions about my favorite. I don’t care about the object: book, pie, food, beer, wine, music, movie…you get it. I don’t declare absolute favorites. I can’t speak for others but IMO, my favorites often slide along a spectrum that’s driven by mood and, or, circumstances. Sometimes memories float up and a song comes on, such as Tom Petty, “Running Down A Dream”, and I think, yes, this is my favorite song. But in another place and time, another song, such as “Us and Them” by Pink Floyd, or “Zombie” by The Cranberries or “Get It On”, is played and it strikes the note for the moment, finding a bit of sympatico with my soul.

I swing the same way with food and beverages. While I have regulars I turn to, they’re not necessarily the favorite. Same with movies — “Unforgiven”, “Bladerunner”, “This Is Spinal Tap”, “Men In Black” — and books — “Catch 22”, “Catcher In the Rye”, “Lincoln in the Bardo”, or series like the Murder Bots or Chronicles of Amber. Novels…authors…genres…

If I have an absolute favorite in anything, it’s

Wenzda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

From a post by the Florence County Democratic Party (South Carolina):

“A day in the Life of Sue Republican.

Sue gets up at 6 a.m. and fills her coffeepot with water to prepare her morning coffee. The water is clean and good because some tree-hugging liberal fought for minimum water-quality standards.

With her first swallow of coffee, she takes her daily medication. Her medications are safe to take because some stupid commie liberal fought to insure their safety and that they work as advertised.

All but $10 of her medications are paid for by her employer’s medical plan because some liberal union workers fought their employers for paid medical insurance – now Sue gets it too.

She prepares her morning breakfast, bacon and eggs. Sue’s bacon is safe to eat because some girly-man liberal fought for laws to regulate the meat packing industry.

In the shower, Sue reaches for her shampoo. Her bottle is properly labeled with each ingredient and its amount in the total contents because some crybaby liberal fought for her right to know what she was putting on her body and how much it contained.

Sue dresses, walks outside and takes a deep breath. The air she breathes is clean because some environmentalist wacko liberal fought for laws to stop industries from polluting our air.

She walks to the subway station for her government-subsidized ride to work. It saves her considerable money in parking and transportation fees because some fancy-pants liberal fought for affordable public transportation, which gives everyone the opportunity to be a contributor.

Sue begins her work day. She has a good job with excellent pay, medical benefits, retirement, paid holidays and vacation because some lazy liberal union members fought and died for these working standards. Sue’s employer pays these standards because Sue’s employer doesn’t want his employees to call the union.

If Sue is hurt on the job or becomes unemployed, she’ll get a worker compensation or unemployment check because some stupid liberal didn’t think she should lose her home because of her temporary misfortune.

It’s noon and Sue needs to make a bank deposit so she can pay some bills. Sue’s deposit is federally insured by the FSLIC because some godless liberal wanted to protect Sue’s money from unscrupulous bankers who ruined the banking system before the Great Depression.

Sue has to pay her Fannie Mae-underwritten mortgage and her below-market federal student loan because some elitist liberal decided that Sue and the government would be better off if she was educated and earned more money over her lifetime.

Sue is home from work. She plans to visit her father this evening at his farm home in the country. She gets in her car for the drive. Her car is among the safest in the world because some America-hating liberal fought for car safety standards.

She arrives at her childhood home. Her generation was the third to live in the house financed by Farmers’ Home Administration because bankers didn’t want to make rural loans. The house didn’t have electricity until some big-government liberal stuck his nose where it didn’t belong and demanded rural electrification.

She is happy to see her father, who is now retired. Her father lives on Social Security and a union pension because some wine-drinking, cheese-eating liberal made sure he could take care of himself so Sue wouldn’t have to.

Sue gets back in her car for the ride home, and turns on a radio talk show. The radio host keeps saying that liberals are bad and conservatives are good. He doesn’t mention that Republicans have fought against every protection and benefit Sue enjoys throughout her day. Sue agrees: “We don’t need those big-government liberals ruining our lives! After all, I’m self-made and believe everyone should take care of themselves, just like I have.”

The writer(s) captured the conundrum quite brilliantly to me. These Republicans in their bubbles or those low-informed voters not paying attention, gladly and eagerly seize whatever they’re fed by a right-wing outlet and bet on it as gospel. They’re dismantling so many things brought to them by Democratic initiatives and the Federal government. And as so many of us consistently predict, they won’t know what they have until it’s gone. Then, after the collapse of progress, the GOTP will blame the Democrats.

And Sue Republican and her peers and the under informed will all agree.

Saturdaz’s Theme Music

Daybreak’s first peeps brought awareness. Today is Saturday. Were I a child of the days back then, I’d be up with joy, heading into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal and into the living room to check out cartoons. Maybe it’d be Bugs and the Roadrunner. Johnny Quest. Speedy Gonzales, Top Cat, Deputy Dawg.

With awakening today, I thought, February 8, 2025. Taxes have been prepared but not filed. We owe money at this point so why pay now? Wait till the bill is due. Not acutally my philosophy; this was my spouse’s input.

It’s 25 F outside. Sunshine and clouds take turns showing themselves. Snow flurries fall. The road looks slick with ice. Snow is still the landscape’s dominant feature. Much melted off yesterday as the snow turned to rain and rain turned to sunshine. The temperature climbed into the low forties before retreating into the mid-20s overnight. ‘They’ tell us today will bring partly sunny skies into Ashland and a high in the upper thirties.

Today’s song is from a movie. The movie is is based on the 1979 book The Falcon and the Snowman: A True Story of Friendship and Espionage by Robert Lindsey. A friend of mine was the book’s editor, and he told about how the manuscript came to be in his hands and his conversations with the author, insights which I lapped up. The movie was released in 1985 and starred young Sean Penn and Timothy Hutton. I’ve posted about the hit song that emerged from it before. Suffice today to say that after reading news yesterday about PINO Trump and Musk — PINO Trusk — activities, The Neurons plucked the song from memory and has it rolling in the morning mental music stream. Key to the song’s position in the MMMS is the line repeated throughout the song, “This is not America”, which is also the song’s title.

Unfortunately, through an accumulation of actions and a confluence of misguided thinking and behavior, what we have now is America. It’s not the place visualized by our founders. Nor is it the nation which survived a civil war and two world wars. No, this is an ugly vision of America, and what many feared would happen. Too sadly, it is celebrated as ‘the right direction’ for a segment of the population.

I ran into coffee in the kitchen and consumed. Sunshine has lifted the light and temperature outside and the falling snow has faded. Ice has melted on the streets.

Things are looking up, for the moment, here in Ashlandia.

Cheers

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