Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I found myself thinking about Chris Woods this morning. He’s a friend who died of cancer a few years ago.

Egregious: that’s why I was thinking of him. I was using the word in my head. That triggered The Neurons to remember a time when I was having a beer with Chris and he used the word. One of many reasons I enjoyed Chris’s company is because he would correctly use words like egregious. As one friend said, “my conversations with Chris were never long enough or ever finished.”

And then, since the door was opened, apparently, I thought of the late, great Quinn, a little sweetheart of a cat who lived with me for over ten years. Like Chris, cancer chased the life out of Quinn. Never more than eight pounds, he packed a huge personality into that little being.

It’s weird and odd and other words about how our mind works on its own. So don’t mind me and my memories of the dead.

I don’t mind.

Quinn, not Chris, watching something.

Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: Sunsational

It’s the next to last day of March. Day before Easter. Saturday, March 30, 2024.

We’ve got sunshine snaking around gray masses of condensed water vapor drifting across the blue-wave sky. Temperature is 50 F and some rain is anticipated, with a high of 56 F in the forecast. March winds are blowing.

There is so much news to digest and think about. Writing about multiple events is possible but I won’t, today, sparing you all. As writer Amanda Marcotte wrote in a Salon article, many ideas and stories surrounding Trump and the MAGA GOP can be labeled, “Shocking, not surprising.”

I’d rather stay away from that and focus on my fiction writing. Part of that is because I’m in an enjoyable phase, rev 6 of one of the works in progress. A second part is that I’m weary of the often-exasperating news, like the MAGA GOP kneejerk response to the demolished Maryland bridge. Then there’s a third factor, that due to Sunday brunch with friends tomorrow, I’ll probably not be writing tomorrow. So I’m trying to get ahead.

I will say — because I have little impulse control, I suppose — that the video of the Dari cargo ship striking the Francis Scott Key bridge and the bridge’s collapse is stunning.

Music for today comes from 1975. I can’t parse why The Neurons plugged it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark sinking). That’s the way of The Neurons. (Is that a novel title? The Way of the Neurons.)

My Neurons like hijacking my brain (which might be called brainjacking, I guess), and the body follows. Like, I’ll go into the kitchen to get a glass of water and suddenly I’m eating cookies, no explanations given. It’s like my Neurons have me hypnotized.

Anyway, today’s theme music is brought to us by the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. “Jackie Blue” was soft country rock song released in 1975, a year after I graduated high school. I was in the U.S. Air Force then and heard it regularly on my car’s AM radio. 1975 was the year of my first duty assignment, Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Ohio, and the year I was married. That was my first wedding, and remains my only wedding, and the marriage still endures. “Jackie Blue” and being at WPAFB and getting married seems fused in my head. So when I heard the song today in the MMMS, I remembered young me as I took on adulting.

Stay positive, be stalwart, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee has already been swallowed in significant quantities, so let’s listen to the music. Cheers

Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts

My brain let slip to my stomach, “He brought a boatload of food home,” ‘he’ being me.

My stomach immediately began berating me to go eat things. “The Neurons told me you have dark chocolate coconut cups. Let’s eat a couple of those.”

“No.”

“They said there was a sandwich in there. Let’s eat that.”

“No.”

“What about the canteloupe?”

“No.”

“Come on, man, let us eat something. We’re starving here.”

“You’re not starving. You had a large breakfast. What’s the matter with you?”

My stomach groaned. “Fooooddd.”

Honestly, you’d think I haven’t eaten in a year, the way my stomach is going on.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: detsessive (determined obsessive)

Hey ho, it’s time to celebrate. That’s right, it’s the First Thursday of the new year. More specifically, it’s January 4, 2024. Raise your cuppa coffee and toast the First Thursday. After all, it’ll never be here again.

Bleak outside, with everything doing a post-rain slow dry as a gray sky mutters by, threatening, “Want more rain? I got more if you want it.” A meek sun stays in the clouds’ background, offering little sunny warmth. 39 F now, we’re talking about a 50 F high. Snow warning in effect for chunks of several southern Oregon and northern California counties, including Ashlandia, where the drivers are below average. Snow level is dropping to 2500 feet, just a few hundred feet above my place. 2 to 3 inches of snow are suggested. Yeah, not much, but as this would be our first snow of winter, just weeks after winter officially started, we’re ready for it.

The cats are enjoying the weather. Going out there, finding a covered dry spot, one in front, the other in the house’s rear, they curl into traditional sleeping positions. As it’s not too cold and not too wet, both dismiss my offers for them to come in the house and be domesticated.

Today’s theme music was “Staying Power” by Queen from 1982. I mostly know this song from a friend. Stationed on Okinawa in the early 1980s, I would encounter him playing Queen albums in his car and home, and he really enjoyed this song. It didn’t do much for me, but the repetition planted it in my head. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it out of outside of his house or car, but I woke up with it in my morning mental music stream (Trademark complicated) today. I asked the almighty Neurons, “Dudes, why are you playing this today?” They giggled like children caught playing a silly game. Honestly, my Neurons can be so immature, which potentially explains a lot.

Then, though, The Neurons called an audible and slipped Van Halen in with “Mean Street” from 1981. Perusing the AM news was the catalyst for The Neurons’ shift; there’s an early line, something like, “I see those same ol’ faces and I hear that same ol’ talk.” That’s how the news felt in this early new year.

Alright, coffee has cometh, let us drink. Stay pos, be strong, and lean forward against the regressive wind. I’ll do the same. Here’s the music — please enjoy their colorful outfits. Sadly, it’s not ‘live’, they’re just faking it. Hell, instruments aren’t even plugged in. LOL

Cheers

The Organic Machine Dream

I had a plethora of dreams last night. This was one of the more interesting to me.

I was a younger man. I looked and acted like I was in my thirties, thirty years plus younger than my real life age. But I looked like myself from that time, tanned, thick brown hair, fit and sender.

Life was keeping me busy and active, reading, writing, playing softball and racquetball, hurrying around, doing errands and talking to people.

During all of that, I came to meet someone. I can’t describe them because I never saw them. Nor can I tell you how they sounded because I heard them, but they were speaking and not speaking.

They had interrupted what I was doing to tell me that I was part of a machine. Confusion was my reaction. Further explanations followed that they had created a machine which was wholly organic. I asked them if the were aliens but I don’t recall an answer to that question.

At that point, though, I was busy and just wanted to get on with everything and hustled off. Later, I stopped to get coffee. They accosted me to say again that I was part of the machine. I didn’t understand what they’d said, and asked for clarification. They launched a long and detailed explanation that they were using humans for many features in an organic machine which they’d created, and that I was one of two individuals who’d been selected as the brains.

While flattered, I thought they could have made a better choice for their brain than me, and told them so.

They countered that the functioning they needed from me was far above my conscious thinking level, or the subconscious. I first asked if drinking coffee with caffeine would affect the brain and the machine, and joked about their machine getting hyper from too much caffeine.

They answered that none of that affected it because the brain function they were employing was beyond an organic level.

That prompted me to retort, “Your organic machine is using parts of humans which aren’t organic?” I laughed at that.

They seriously responded, “Yes.”

I asked them if they were talking about the Id, ego, and super-ego, trying to comprehend it. They replied that it was beyond those levels as well, pushing me to ask what was beyond that level?

They asked me if I wanted to see the machine. Enthusiastially, I replied, “Sure.”

“You’re standing in it,” they replied.

Confusion and suspicions squirted up in me. I’d been outside, among trees and buildings, cars, utility wires, streets, and businesses. Now I was in a glistening pink edifice with tall, vaulted areas, reminding me of the inside of a pink church.

“How did I get here?” I asked.

“You were always here.”

That made me think of the movie, The Matrix. Before I could speak, they asked if I wanted to see my part.

“Yes.”

They told me to go further in. Not feeling anything but curiosity, I did, walking until I reached an intersection. Ahead were two pink tubes, which reminded me of short smokestacks. Five feet tall, they were about two feet in diameter.

“Where do I go now?” I asked.

“That’s it, you’re here. You’re the brain on the left.”

I looked at tubes. “Those are brains?”

“Yes, they just need the energy. We wanted to tell you and show you because as your brain changes, our brain will grow more powerful. As it grows more powerful, you will become more intelligent and powerful, and then, so will it. As each of you change and grow, you’ll feed the other. We thought you should be aware of that”

Dream end.

I have no idea what this dream was about. I woke up feeling surprised. Thinking about the dream, I concluded, “That was different.” I wanted to just dismiss it but instead felt compelled to keep thinking about it, as though I was preparing for more to come. Intrigued, part of me thinks, wow, some power is informing me that I’m going to go through great changes. A more cynical aspect thinks that’s highly dubious; it’s just random neurons firing parts of my brain as I sleep.

I’ll let you know if more of the dream ever does come.

A Healing Massage Dream

I experienced many dreams last night. One of the most interesting ones was the healing dream.

I’d been walking and my feet hurt, so I sat to massage them. A man sat beside me. Large and black, his head was as round and bald as a basketball.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“Massaging my feet because they hurt.”

“I can help you with that.” He held his hands up. They glistened with oil. “I have the power.”

“Okay, cool.”

Taking my feet, he rocked back and forth, humming and massaging them. Skin sloughed off my feet. Pain and soreness went with it.

He finished and rose. “Thanks,” I said. “That was amazing. I really appreciate it.”

Nodding and waving, he said, “No problem,” and then ambled off.

I was still sitting when a woman then approached me. I couldn’t get a clear look at her. It seemed like a misty gauze moved with her, but from glimpses, she seemed slender, young, and white. She wore light blue but her arms were bare. She said, “You look like you could use a massage.”

I debated it and then said, “Okay, sure.”

Darkness fell around us until we were in a circle of yellow-white light. The air grew cooler. She began massaging my chest and shoulders. Her hands and arms went into my chest. I could suddenly see into my chest. Her fingers embraced my heart and massaged it. Shocked and amazed, I just sat there, gawking.

A little girl ran up. The woman took my heart out of my chest. It looked like a piece of fried chicken. She gave it to the girl, who gave the woman a new heart.

As the girl ran off with my fried-chicken heart, the woman put the new heart inside of me. “That feel better?”

I couldn’t speak because I felt so amazed, so I nodded.

“Good.” Shifting her hands, she began massaging my lungs. Air rushed into them like never before. As she massaged me, my perspective changed, so that I was now watching her from outside of myself. Next, she massaged my liver, and then my stomach, and then moved her hands up, and massaged my head. I held my breath as I saw her squeezing, shaping, and re-shaping my brain.

“There,” she said. “Done.” She was gone, and I was back in my body.

I awoke feeling like I’d been scrubbed clean from the inside out.

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