Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Got a question for y’all: what is this ‘X’ thing I keep seeing? Anyone know?
Also, whatever happened to ‘Twitter’?
Yes, some holiday snark because everyone in the media keeps adding, “X, formerly Twitter.” Like we haven’t gotten it by now. I guess they’re still trying to cope with the change and put it up to remind themselves.
And yes, I did post about X and Twitter before in a similar vein. And no, I’m not obsessed with it. Not officially. Not yet.
Mood: blinky
It’s Tuesday, December 26, 2023. 39 F outside, it’s almost Christmas cold. Clouds and sunshine are rotating through influences. One moment, it’s a bright shiny day and you stand at the window and stare out at blue. Not pretty out there, a little sodden, with faded grasses and bare trees except for the conifers. Then clouds swing back in, dulling it all more in its appearance, and quickly dropping a chill on the space. High will be 54 F. Precipitation isn’t predicted.
Most of the holidays are past but now the herd wheels toward the largest, most universally regarded holiday: New Year. People plan a party, a celebration to last throughout the year. Or they seek a humble day of new beginnings. Resolutions are made, dreams and hopes addressed again, and vows are given, sometimes privately, about how the next year will be different. Thoughts turn to everything pending, and the things on the world agenda, and how they might unfold. Sighs are released like the wind whispering with the first notes of an incoming storm.
The cats stayed in and curled up, sweet as cats can be, and less distrustful and threatening to one another.
Our Christmas was low key. Just my wife and I at home. Very relaxing and enjoyable for me. I mostly read and stayed off net most of the day. Did watch parts of two football games. Also watched “Hogfather” because she said she’d never seen it. We had croissants and fruit for breakfast. I made our roasted root veggies soup in the afternoon and we ate about five. I also texted with little sister #2 several times, tracking activities and the state of things.
Heard from sis, though, that another sister and her hubby’s COVID is terrible and that it has been passed on to two other family members.
Musically, I was thinking about change, and The Neurons offered up David Bowie and “Modern Love” from 1983 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark traded). I thought, why that? Tracing back over my thought pattern, I recognized that I’d used but things don’t really change. Bowie incorporates that: “I catch the paper boy but things don’t really change. I’m standing in the wind.” I always thought the last line there was about standing in the winds of change, but that’s just me.
Stay pos, test neg, be strong, and move forward. The coffee fuel is being loaded; countdown has begun. In three…two…
Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: spirited
T’was the day before Christmas and all across the land
few people were thinking that everything was grand
those with money to spend had brought presents to no end
while those lacking food and shelter did what they could do
Yes, today is Sunday, December 24, 2023, the day before Christmas in the US. Light rain intermittently douses us in wintery 43 F temps under a dystopian dim sun stuck behind the clouds. It’s today’s high, already achieved, so we have that going for us in Ashlandia, where the Christmas decorations are average and the Kwanza and Hannukah celebrations are muted.
I found myself with the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s 2006 cover of Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark gifted). Those first lyrics that include soldiers keep on warrin’ was in my mind during this holiday month, when so many people talk about peace on Earth and goodwill toward man while doing the opposite so often. Few walk the talk. They’re just depressin’ damn people, especially the faux christians who have emerged.
Let’s just call them faustians, which is really similiar to faustian, isn’t it? Interesting; those faustians (faux christians) focus on themselves, complaining about how overlooked and put upon they are, which, in their words, is terrible because they have the best religion and god. Meanwhile, faustian is an adjective to describe things often done for present gain without any thought about the future, which is exactly what the faustians (faux christians) do; they want to go back to some faux good ol’ days when women knew their place and it was in the house, and there were only two genders and one sexual orientation – male on female – and men were in charge, and all bad things like racism, bigotry, and discrimination were all swept into places where it couldn’t be seen. They didn’t want to hear about women being raped (because they probably deserved it anyway, in their minds, because of how they dressed or acted). Nor did they want to know about people born with a mix of gene sets that creates a spectrum of true and viable genders. God only created two genders, darn it, and science is bad because it teaches otherwise, so don’t trust it.
Factories were in America and all things were made in America, because it was and is and always will be the greatest nation in the world (because, god), and the houses were all the same clean cottages behind fine white picket fences, except for the wealthy but noble and pious people who lived in mansions on the hill, away from the riff raff. To achieve their goals, faustians will lie and pretend their leaders are wonderful people, overlooking or even rationalizing their crimes, and go to war to make peace, because they believe in god, and that makes everything that they do okay. Diversity is not good in the faustian world. Nor is critical thinking.
Anyway, that’s why I’m playing “Higher Ground”.
Stay pos, be strong, and keep leaning forward toward a higher ground. Coffee drinking is underway. Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: transcendant
It’s December 8, 2023, Friday. 37 F outside in Ashlandia, where the women are lovely and the men don’t brood, up from 29 F. We were encased in a gothic novel cover a few hours ago; fog, mist, and diminished gray light set a brooding stage of mysterious shadows and stifled sounds. We brought on the fireplace to help the furnace with the day’s early cold moisture, and it was cozyrama.
Our valley’s high will be 46 F. Snow flurries are in today’s weather blend.
Sis is going home from her operation and all was a success. That encouraged The Neurons to light up the morning mental music stream (Trademark bamboozled) with Ten Years After at Woodstock with “Going Home”. It’s a powerful old-time rocker for an early Friday morning before I’d had coffee and my mind segued to their song, “I’d Love to Change the World”. When I used it back in 2019, I wrote,
Ten Years After released “I’d Love to Change the World” in 1971 as a response to the violence, protests, emerging counter-culture, resistant establishment, and war. Gosh, does any of that have any echos in today’s world? Naw, probably just me.
Like most of TYA’s offerings, the song features some powerful Alvin Lee guitar work, which is always good to hear. Beyond the rock essence of guitar and dream, these lyrics, and how they’re presented in the song, plaintive, accepting, and reflective, spoke to me as a fifteen-year-old when the song came out, but still talks to me as a sixty-three-year-old.
I’d love to change the world
But I don’t know what to do.
So I’ll leave it up to you.
I’ll leave that up there, adding that the other line resonating with me is, “Tax the rich, feed the poor, till there are no rich no more.” Guess I’m getting more revolutionary as I age.
Stay positive, fight injustice, remain strong, help others, and lean forward. Give me more coffee and then I’ll do the same. Here’s the video. Gotta go; cat wants in. Rock on.
Mood: under baked
It’s foggy in Ashlandia again. Fog closed in on our fair town, where the mountains are low and the valley is narrow, yesterday afternoon. The for went away for the night and returned this morning, along with a doughnut sprinkle of rain that’s expected to keep up intermittently for the day. It’s all part of the season called aunter, which falls in the last third of fall, bringing dampness, dark days, and cold air, and winter, when the snow is summoned.
But look out. It’s 45 F now but we’re gonna get warmer, even broaching the sixties, maybe, they say, maybe getting as warm as 66F. Not bad for a aunter day.
This is Wednesday, December 26, 2023.
I was in a Dollar Store with my wife yesterday. She’s planning a holiday gift for her exercise class instructor. My spouse has been going to this class since 2005. The instructor is 78 and has been telling people what to do to music since the early 1980s. She’s quite popular. My wife became friends with her over exercising and books. My wife and two others, who were then known as the Woo-Woo girls, started talking about books they were reading as they warmed up before class. Soon the instructor joined, and then a few others, giving rise to the Ladies’ Most Excellent Book Club, which became the book club. They limit it by vote to ten people, and they’re serious readers. We’ll be going to the instructors’ house for a traditional Swedish smorgasborg later this month.
Anyway, as part of the holidays, my wife has started a new tradition of collecting money and signing a card for the instructor. The instructor rarely keeps the money, either donating it to families who need it, or to local causes with the food bank. My wife likes going to the Dollar Store for supplies. It might be a Dollar Tree store; I don’t pay attention. I know they’re no longer a store where things are a dollar or less. But yesterday surprised me.
The dollar store has restaurant and big box store gift cards, along with iTunes gift cards. Many were for $25 or $50. I didn’t bother asking the busy staff it the cards sold for a dollar. They’ve probably heard that joke, and nothing on that end cap display said, “Olive Garden $50 Gift Card: One Dollar”.
It’s just more evolution for the dollar store trio who combined into one business entity a few years ago. I remember first going to one of them thirty years ago after moving back to the United States. I was like, everything in the store is for sale for a dollar? Why, yes, that was exactly the premise: a dollar or less. Being in the military, not getting paid much, and liking a bargain, we went frequently to the Dollar Tree or Dollar Store to get household cleaning supplies, notebooks and paper supplies — including greeting cards — and whatever little bargains we found.
Sad that the stores have changed their philosophy, but that’s how progress works. I guess. At least we’ll someday be able to tell future generations that there used to businesses which sold things for a dollar. They’ll probably ask us, “What’s a dollar?”
An apartment building neighbors us not too far away. With the leaves out of the trees, I can see some of their upper windows from my backyard. Yesterday, I saw a cat in one of the windows. It’s not the first cat I’ve seen in the building, so it’s not that remarkable. This was a fine looking cat, young and slender-appearing, sitting erect as a statue in that graceful cat manner we so often see. White with calico spots, it was intently watching me. I wondered if the cat was lonely and I hoped that it was’t.
That tiny reflection invited The Neurons to offer a song to the mental music stream, where it continues in the morning mental music stream (Trademark nutty). “Only the Lonely” by The Motels, not to be confused with “Only the Lonely” by Roy Orbison, came out in 1982. So it’s for that cat and the other floofs alone and watching that this song is offered as Wednesday’s theme music.
Stay pos and strong, and lean in. Coffee has arrived at the brain center, exciting The Neurons. Here we go, off to start the day. And here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: drowsy (it is too a mood)
Sunday has bubbled up into the latest reality. It’s the 3rd of December, 2023. Mists follow the green conifers of the southern mountains. Our sky did have a small amoeba of blue sky fluctuating above us. It was 50 F with the announced idea that 66 F is our potential high. Right now, rain is hovering in the area, and clouds that look like a turbulent gray sea have buried the blue sky. That’s life in Ashlandia, where the weather can change in a Pacific northwest minute and we can experience several seasons in one day.
My first December event was okay last night. Got my haircut so I look like I can fit in with any military unit that requires short hair. Fit in well with Guanajuato Nights 2023, last night’s annual event. It was the fourth we’ve attended, impelled by friends involved with the Amigo Club behind the event almost as much by the money raised for scholarships and interest in Ashland’s sister city, Guanajuato, Mexico. Excellent Mexican foods were on the menu, starting with hors d’oeuvres of empanadas, tiny tortilla spoons filled with guacamole with lime and cilantro, and ending with flan with a chocolate base flan. Unfortunately, dinner was slow in coming out and our food, like many, arrived late at the table.
Feeling a little weary and thoughtful this morning, I deliberately sought out some music from Playing for Change. Founded in 2002 to pursue a mission to connect the world through music, the music project features musicians from around the world.
Using the money raised, the Playing for Change Foundation builds art and music schools for children.
Anyway, my search for today’s theme music finally brought me to a original song called “Playing for Change” written by Sara Bareilles. Hope you find it worthy as today’s theme music.
Be strong, stay positive, and keep leaning forward. Coffee has been ingested; time for another cup, I think.
Hey, sunshine has broken through the gray, though there is no blue. Think I’ll schedule a walk for later. Here’s the music. Cheers
I’ve learned to accept my older self. I’m no longer slender or muscular with thick, shiny hair, striding through places like I might be someone famous. Now I’m graying, thinning, bloated. Sagging and wrinkling skin mark the progress of decades of being.
But I’ve learned that if I don’t look in a mirror, I’ll be alright. Makes shaving my face a serious challenge, though.
Mood: sated
Good afternoon. Getting around a little late to this posting today. I dibble and dabbled the morning away, dashing up and down the Interstate and around town during late morning and early afternoon before returning home for naps and reading for a few hours.
It’s November 11, 2023, Saturday and Veteran’s Day. Awoke to a new battle between a feeble sun trying to crawl through chilly gray fog to reach us. Finally worked after a few hours, lifting us from about forty up to a skin scorching 55 F. Bazinga.
As we went zipped about town today, we had lunch and then began joking about our energy levels. “We used to be younger,” my wife and I teased one another. Yes, we used to be crazy, and we used to be fun. Now we’re prudent from mistakes made and lessons learned. Well, with happenstance, we turned off NPR games to pop on the car’s FM radio, and there was Miley Cyrus, repeating our words back at us.
[Chorus]
I know I used to be crazy
I know I used to be fun
You say I used to be wild
I say I used to be young
You tell me time has done changed me
That’s fine, I’ve had a good run
I know I used to be crazy
That’s ‘causе I used to be young
h/t Genius.com
We laughed and my spouse mentioned how much she enjoys the Miley Cyrus song, “Used To Be Crazy”, which came out earlier in 2023. And then I started wondering, when exactly did we start talking about when we were young? I think it was when I was in my forties, which is now about twenty years ago, depending on where the marker in my forties is thrown down, but I can’t verify it without a time machine. But how often do we mourn the passage of our youth and the new people which we end up being? We reflect on how our metabolism drops lower and lower, and with it often goes our energy levels, and maybe our attention levels. I also mourn hair loss and how many body shape has change, and oh, yeah, that hair has grayed and thinned. Were wrinkles mentioned? I forget.
I won’t say that I’ll never be the person I used to be. Techology may surprise us in new ways, like cloning a new version of Michael that I can inhabit with life memories and acquired knowledge intact, which could be pretty cool. Or perhaps an invention that comes along which washes out old cells and blows us out clean and fresh once again, even tailoring the result into which age we’ll like to be. I think I’d like to be 32 again.
Oh, well. This is the shit that is us, and such is life.
Stay positive, be strong and brave, and keep leaning forward. This concludes this portion of my posting day. Here’s the video. Cheers
This is a short dream, or more explicitly, my memory of this one is brief. I have a sense that there was more dream but disturbances in the force truncated remembering more substance.
This was a neat part, though. Truging up a hill, I was in a deep twilight, one that curtailed light, limiting what I saw and knew. A weight was on me and my shoulders, back, and leg muscles were all aching. Weariness was slowing me. Each step was shorter and the time between steps was longer. I was thinking, I might not make it, and what should I do if I didn’t?
Taking a longer break to rest and rally my will, I looked almost straight up. Above me was a jagged rend in the darkness, displaying a galaxy splashed with red and blue swaths, a surprising and breathtaking sight.
Almost immediately after seeing the galaxy, I was in another place. Confusion punched through me about the change. I staggered a little, feeling myself off balance.
Then a man was talking to me, an older, baritone voice. I whipped my glances around, trying to understand who and where he was, missing what he was saying. When he paused, I asked, “What?”
Impatience glazing his inflections, he said, “I said, this is your new rock. We’re replacing your old rock.”
Bewilderment ascended in me. “What are you talking about?” But in parallel to me asking that, I saw a line of boulders in spotlights ahead of me. All were pretty large but the first one, an light grey ovoid, sucked in my attention. “What rocks?”
“You’ve been dragging a huge rock, a boulder, up the mountain. We think it’s time you get a break, so we’re giving you this one to drag for a while.”
“That little gray one?”
“Yes.” The impatience flared. “That’s the one.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t even know I was dragging a rock.”
“Dragging, carrying it,” the other said. “Do you want it?”
While that exchange went on, I took in a huge black monolith to one side, bending backwards to see its top. “Is that the rock I had?” I knew it was. Rock was a pale noun for the enormous piece towering over me. “I’ve been dragging that?”
“Yes, that’s your burden.”
Laughing, I was already answering, “I’ll take the grey one, then, sure. That’s a lot smaller.” I was thinking, that’ll make it all much, much easier.
“Okay, go ahead, then, take it, but you should now, it will grow. Burdens always do.”
Michael Seidel, writer 