Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Calvin is a local barista. He* dyed his hair pink last week. For the past several days, his name tag has Charlotte on it.
My brain reacted, “Charlotte? Really?”
Then it said, “Charlotte. Okay.”
His name is Charlotte, and my name is Michael. It’s that simple.
*While some people specify their pronouns on their name tags, I’ve not seen anything on Charlotte’s name tag.
Boys and girls in clean baseball uniforms come into the coffee shop and wait for drinks. Last names and numbers adorn the jerseys. The young players all wear their caps with its team insignia. Crocs, or Croc wannabes adorn their feet so they’re not wearing their cleats into the shop.
The parent situation varies. Sometimes a solitary adult accompanies the young athletes; less frequently, it’s a couple. I wonder about the family situation and whether about the significance of the adult situation.
None seem particularly happy. Phones are often studied, arms crossed, as they wait. But one father and the children talk, joke, and laugh.
All so different from my years of young ball playing. This is part of the new Americana, Starbucks, phones, and Crocs. I wonder how many times these scenes play out across the land on this Monday American holiday.
Mood: Mystified
It’s 65 F. That’s the low for Penn Hills in the Churchill Valley today. The house’s east side is being sunblasted. Clouds? Yes, some particles are stringing together thin white cloud structures. The thermometer is supposed to stop up by 90 F today. It’s Tuesday, May 21, 2024.
Mom’s energy was strong yesterday, a change from the usual. See, there was a birthday celebration on Sunday. Mom was there for about five hours. Normally, such outings deplete her energy stores, so the day after leaves her listless.
But not yesterday. She was spirited and energetic, good to witness. Did her exercises and was quite engaged. Holding my breath on today, but I hope we’re seeing a new trend’s beginning.
I was thinking about my brother-in-law. Married to my oldest younger sisters, he and I have known one another for fifty years, since we were seventeen. Long time to know another who isn’t related or married to you. Sad for me, he swung toward the right wing over thirty years ago and is now a full-blown MAGAr. That limits our conversation and introduces some awkwardness. We’ve tried talking around it, but he often introduces racist or sexist comments, and has that MAGA habit of ignoring one set of facts while adhering to another. Yet, I’m looking forward to being a guest at his house his weekend for a Memorial Day cook-out.
My family is big into gathering for holidays and eating food. Memorial Day cookouts are the standard, even though the starting lineup has changed, and new players have been added through marriages, divorces, deaths, and births.
The Neurons have introduced “Tin Man” to the morning mental music stream (Trademark well-done). I don’t know why. The 1974 song by America has no discernible links to my dreams IMO. Nor are there conversation or activity links. For that matter, the mellow, comfortable song has silly lyrics. Lots of hooks and easy to sing with, but little deep to it.
That’s okay. Maybe The Neurons are ordering me to chill.
BTW, today is birthday boy’s actual birthday. So happy sixteenth, Michael. May your days be as complete and fulfilling as you dream them.
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue for 2024. Here’s a good summation of why Vote Blue is important this year.
Coffee has traipsed over my tongue and down my gullet. Here the music. Cheers
Mood: sumeagerness
We’re expecting a summerish time today, Sunday, May 19 2024, in the Churchill Valley. 65 F now, they’re predicting high temperatures of 84 to 88 degrees F for us.
Quite believable with sunshine commanding a staunchly blue sky. No clouds are in sight.
My plans for today include a nephew’s birthday party. He’s turning over the leaf on number 16, dig? Happy to be here to partake of the grub and fun and fete his latest advance. Sweet and now a slightly quiet and withdrawn person, he’s endured some health issues that undercut the joy and happiness that he used to perpetually manifest. I hope he can regain some of that. He’s a good-looking, talented, and intelligent person with a wonderful smile.
That’ll be at the littlest sister’s house. “The Littlest Sister”: could that be a novel title? Maybe a dark humor murder mystery? Sounds possible. But it could also be a YA about kids with powers. Those seem popular now. Or the concept could be taken into the children’s realm and built around the littlest sister as an animal — perhaps a cat? Conversely, the littlest sister might be a time traveler, perhaps even an alien, escaping dire conditions on another world and looking for help on Earth.
Yeah, maybe not.
I feel a little better about Mom’s situation today. I think I’ve set her up for someone to come in once a week to clean. Mom has known that person over twenty years, it’s a neighbor, and Mom had suggested her. So that all sounds perfect, right? Yes, except this is Mom. Changing her mind about matters — especially matters in the health and home realms — are a solid part of her history. She’s protective of her routines, privacy, and territory.
Les Neurons posted “Long Road to Ruin” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark flopping). The ’07 Foo Fighters song is about dissatisfaction with the status quo IMO, and an eagerness to change it or leave it. The point behind it is do something. That’s what I’m always urging myself: do something.
Coffee has been introduced to my corporeal being and I feel my energy rising. Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Hope your weather suits you as much as I’m facing today.
Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: Coffpassionate
May continues is march. Today is the month’s 17th day.
It’s Friday. Clouds have won the morning, but they’re a modest whipped cream overlay. 63 F out there, 70 F is today’s top. 70 F isn’t bad for me, although it always comes to me as ‘not quite hot, and not quite cold’. I feel like Goldilocks writing that.
I miss my cats, Tucker and Papi. Note: I also miss my wife but I get to chat on the phone with her every day. She presents updates: “It’s nice outside, so they’re out there sleeping somewhere.” Not much color there, but then, but they’re low-key floofies. My wife does tell me that Tucker sleeps with her every night. Papi, of course, wants out. I’ll be happy to be back with them.
The Neurons have plugged a Sly Fox song into the morning mental music stream (Trademark reflected). The group came out with “Let’s Go All the Way” in 1985. As an 1980s product, it offers an eclectic and intriguing mix of techno sounds with mellow, laid-back vocals.
What’s interesting about this song is that many perceived it as a tune about sex. The truth is, it’s about politics. Here’s the initial verse:
Sitting with the thinker
Trying to work it out
It’s a traffic jam of the brain
Makes you wanna scream and shout
Presidential party
No one wants to dance
Looking for a new star
To put you in a trance
And the chorus is about a better way:
Let’s go all the way
We need heaven on Earth today
Aah-aah-aah
We can make a better way
Let’s go all the way
Go all the way
Let’s go all the way
Yeah
h/t to Genius.com
I think The Neurons’ choice is pitch-perfect. We have that guy, Trump, a Bible Belt darling with some. He practices as they preach: hate and name-calling is his daily delivery, for, as the Bible orders, “Hate thy political opponent with all the anger on Earth.” Their Bible seems to also state, “Treat women like they have no rights. Grab by the pussy and move like a bitch. Cheat on thy wives and lust after thy daughter.”
Also in their Bible is the guidance about morals and ethics: “Lie and cheat to get ahead, for more money is key to your place in Heaven.”
So, my fellow Democrats, let’s go all the way. Vote out those MAGA Republicans and make it a better day.
Coffee has made its way to me. Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Then let’s work on restoring voting rights and women’s rights, and rights for everyone everywhere, and act like a compassionate nation that immigrants helped build, instead of treating them like garbage, as the MAGA Bible apparently directs.
Here’s the video. And there’s the rain. Cheers
People going into hospice care seems to be increasing in numbers. Not a great surprise as the population ages and end-of-life planning becomes more widespread.
I do think we might consider verbalizing ‘hospice’, though. Instead of stating that someone is entering hospice care, why not say they’re being hospicized?
Mood: Visative
My computer said, “Looks like you’re in Penn Hills, PA.”
I replied, “What ’bout it? You trying to start something?”
“No,” the machine said, “just asking, you know, you want the local time and weather?”
Yes, I’m at Mom’s house in Penn Hills, back to help out as I can. I went out to get fresh morning air at 9 AM. Humid, warm air slapped my face. I’m dribbling sweat from my pits. I’s 73 F with a high of 84 F coming up. Light rain is expected at 5 PM. The Neurons are like, what is this stuff, humidity?
A stranger in a strange land vibe flucuates. Mom and Frank are the same as ever but gravity is apparently stronger here. They move more slowly, even sluggishly. I’m noticed the same gravity effect on myself; steps I used to quasi-bound up — couldn’t do too much bounding, with their steep rake, narrow confines, and small tread — are carefully navigated. Humidity and gravity. I never expected them to betray me.
My visit is open-ended but I think it’s on a short leash. I want to give my sisters and Mom’s boyfriend a little break from having to do everything for Mom.
Yesterday was a travel day. Left the house at 11 AM and arrived at Mom’s place at midnight. Two flights. Both United. One of the two was on-time for a 50% rate. Not bad? I had to scramble between flights in Denver as the next flight was already boarding. It seemed like over half the people on my United Boeing 737 flight rowed were in the same straits. We rushed out of the jetway like ants scrambling from an anthill under duress.
I’m in the kitchen, sipping coffee, listening to the upstairs sounds drift back down to me as they awake and dress to meet the day. I let them sleep in. I know how good sleep can feel.
With that background, The Neurons fed Dire Straits, “Sultans of Swing”, into the morning mental music stream. Released in the U.S. in 1979, this was the one which first made folks like me ask, “Who are these guys?” Since its release, I’ve grown fond of Mark Knopfler’s many talents. This puts it all on display.
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. As noted, I went onto the coffee car already and got my caffeinated assist. Here we go.
Cheers
Mood: oneofthosekindofdaysic
We started this day in Ashlandia, Wednesday, May 1, 2024, at 36 F. Chilly, baby. No clouds besmirched the blue sky. Sunshine stormed in at dawn. Asserting itself like a new young bull, the sunshine and front pushed the temperature up to 53 F. It’s still climbing with an expected final stop at 67 F.
The cats can’t wait until it gets that warm. Both stayed out for a testing period in the early hours but galloped to the house when I opened the door and offered sanctuary. Tucker and Papi are now napping like the house cats they are.
Yeah, my mood is oneofhosekindofdaysic. All first world blues junk. Fitbit crashing itself, losing two days of data. GASP! Stop the presses. Slow-loading pages. Connectivity matters at the coffee shop. OH NO, it’s the end of the world. Little matters like that which chip away at your spirit like water dripping on stone. It’s such a cruel world. How can I possibly enjoy my scone and coffee under these conditions? Yes, that’s 24 karat snark.
Reading news restores some semblance of balance. People killed in tornados and storms. I can’t deter my brain from imagining what their death must have seemed like. The noise and power of the storm followed by some manner of incident which causes their demise. Seems like a lonely and terrifying way to die. Of course, hearing incoming missiles or artillery shells also seems terrifying. Is it worse when a blow just comes with little sound and warning? What about being a child in a school listening to one your classmates picking off your peers as they walk the halls with a semiautomatic weapon? That also seems like it would generate all-consuming terror.
One of my nephews experienced his 18th birthday recently so I was thinking about him. Naturally, The Neurons conjured Alice Cooper to the morning mental music stream (Trademark simmering) with “I’m Eighteen” from 1971. The song came out three years before my eighteenth natal day, so I had a ready-made theme song for the day.
I pondered the differences between what I was like and my life, and my young nephew. A straightforward comparison is hard to generate. Our social mediate in those days was passing notes and writing letters. Information was just beginning to emerge beyond AM/FM radio and the big three national television networks.
But I think both ages embody a sense of chaos and challenges. I think that’s so for every generation, no matter the era. We face the same issues of finding our nature and going forward as adults.
He, from my vantage, is an intelligent, poised, and talented individual. My sis, his Mum, is proud of him, and so am I. I look forward to seeing him soon. I hope he votes this year and casts a blue ballot.
Okay, I’ve boarded the coffee train. Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the rock video. Stay chill. Cheers
When I say thank you in response to service, the young baristas respond, “Of course.”
Makes me smile. I remember when I used to respond, “No problem.” Then some elder – he must’ve been fifty or more, and I was pushing through my teens – said, “Whatever happened to ‘you’re welcome’?”
Fifty years later, I understand his lament.
Michael Seidel, writer 