Ashland, southern Oregon — Saturday, October 3, 2026.
A scorcher of a day is set up. Long stretches of thin white crossing the atmosphere’s bowl, but it’s mostly blue. Dropped to 80 now — a hot 80 — but it was over 90. More of the same is expected tomorrow.
Mom reports she’s feeling better. Played bingo at the assisted living facility and won five games. She seemed relaxed and — risking the chance of jinxing it — happier today.
Meanwhile, my WordPress still isn’t right, just a fly in my pinot noir. On the good news side, my next step in my cancer treatment, the BCG was moved up to this coming Monday. An impatient person, that pleases me. I’m a ‘let’s get this done’ sort of personality.
Reading political and other news, I told myself, don’t look back. Looking back causes me to grit my teeth with pain and anger over what’s happening with our nation, especially so as Donald Trump breaks promise after promises, rages about different things, and lies about almost everything. There’s a lot riding on the upcoming midterms.
Those thoughts encouraged The Neurons to introduce “Don’t Look Back in Anger” into the morning mental music stream. As I hummed the Oasis tune to myself this morning, I was surprised to see an article claiming that it was released 31 years ago. Why it seems like just yesterday!
Then again, it seems like just yesterday that I took my first driving test and got my license. It feels like just yesterday that I as going to the prom, and just yesterday that I was getting ready to play a football game.
Just yesterday seems so close and so far. Maybe I’m going on a long elliptical orbit around my existence. My memories will begin fading and the next thing I know — without knowing — is that I’m living my life all over again, following the orbit already established through agencies outside of my control.
Here’s the Oasis music. May your orbit take you into brighter, happier days and you smile often.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Saturday, September 26, 2026.
The roads are never ending.
Autumn lines today’s road with beautiful trees and a blue sky. I saw a single white cloud. Not large or small, it was oblong shaped and thin looking. Blue streaks thinned more of it, like someone had tried to scape it from the sky.
We hit the low 70s today. Just a cool, calm, chill day. Tonight’s low temperature will dip into the mid 40s.
Texting with Mom occupied some time. She repeatedly calls and texts. And we’re apparently expected to instantly answer, take her call, etc. If we don’t then she accuses us of ignoring, abandoning, or avoiding her.
I am doing some of that. As my sister, Gina, won’t answer Mom, Mom comes to me to be her intermediary. Gina told me she hasn’t blocked Mom, but like me, she’s busy and a little weary. I honestly told Mom I don’t immediately respond because I’m busy and I’m emotionally, physically, and mentally weary. Yes, Mom contributes to some of that, but so does other things happen in our existence. She took it well.
Today’s song is “Big Empty” by the Stone Temple Pilots, often known as STP. The song came out in 1993 and became part of my music rotation as I commuted around Mountain View, Palo Alto, and Sunnyvale, CA. The Neurons tipped the song into my morning mental music stream when I was thinking about conversations with Mom. If you know the lyrics, you can get that.
Sample Lyrics
Drivin’ faster in my car Falling farther from just what we are Smoke a cigarette, and lie some more, these conversations kill Falling faster in my car
Time to take her home, her dizzy head is conscience laden Time to take a ride, it leaves today, no conversation Time to take her home, her dizzy head is conscience laden Time to wait too long, to wait too long, to wait too long
Too much walkin’, shoes worn thin Too much trippin’, and my soul’s worn thin Time to catch a ride, it leaves today, her name is what it means Too much walkin’, shoe’s worn thin
Time to take her home, her dizzy head is conscience laden Time to take a ride, it leaves today, no conversation Time to take her home, her dizzy head is conscience laden Time to wait too long, to wait too long, to wait too long
May this autumn day in the north, spring day below the equator bring you good company and delicious meals.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Friday, September 25, 2026.
It’s autumn. Several trees in my backyard suddenly have golden leaves curling and browning, falling to the ground, done. 61 F, our peak temperature is 68. Sunshine fills the windows but rainclouds crowd the mountains.
I’m just going to drift for a moment, reflecting on the possibility that politicians begin employing AI agents to secretly replace staff while maintaining a fiction that the staff is still human. The AI agents are given social security numbers of dead children, and are paid as if they’re human employees, but the elected officials pocket it all. And the AI agents inform them on how to ‘read the people’s mood, slicing and dicing multiple buckets of entertainment, news, spending, and saving to refine the political tone and stay in office.
In fact, Trump isn’t real. Just as portrayed in the architecture of “The Matrix” franchise, Trump is an AI-generated distraction, generating more distractions to keep us off focus. Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! is run by AI. No war is going on, and there is no White House. Nor is there Taylor Swift, movies, or football, baseball, soccer games. It’s all AI-generated, live on our screens, delivered to our minds.
As a matter of fact, humanity may have checked out long ago. The planet died; and we’re all AI-generated simulations, wondering where we’re going and what we’re doing. Other sentient species have arrived and are doing autopsies on our dead civilizations, replicating what happened, in effect, bringing us back to life.
For all I know, there is no weather, no Mom calling me to talk in a fading, whispery voice, no sisters sending me texts.
Here is Crackout with “This Is What We Do” from 2004.
Sample Lyrics
I’m breaking a mirror And I’m buying a new one too And I’ll talk in a whisper ‘Cause this is what we do This is what we do
Not breaking a vessel Not even a race of pulse It’s not worth getting stressed for ‘Cause this is what we do This is what we do
And I guess you’ve been there too For flying And I suppose I won’t get through But you’ll hear me And I’ll say what I will use ‘Cause I’m worn out and nothing’s left to use
I’m making an offer But it’s one that you can refuse And you’ll learn how to spot her ‘Cause this is what we do
Ashland, southern Oregon. Thursday, September 3, 2026.
Cool rainy weather continues here. Today’s high will be 63 degrees F, ten degrees above the present temp. Blue sky is a memory as gray clouds take over from horizon to horizon, no matter where I look. Rain fell yesterday, and it was very enjoyable, almost springlike to me. No more rain is expected today; just clouds and cool temperatures.
My sister, Gina, is irritated with Mom again. This is about Mom’s Amazon purchases but also this new account Gina set up. Apparently, Mom can only have six transactions a month. Mom used three on Amazon already, then Gina paid three bills but forgot to include those for her calculations for Mom’s account, so Mom now can’t spend any more money in September, according to Gina. As she’s not communicating with Mom, she is asking one of us to tell Mom for her. I think Gina needs to own it.
I admit, I’m a little irked with Gina’s thinking here. On the one hand, she’s complaining about Mom’s deteriorating mental state and memory. On the other hand, she sets Mom up with an account with expectations that Mom will think of everything she’ll need for the month and place one order. Hard to fault Gina, though, because she — almost alone — is the one child living locally trying to help Mom.
My wife told me about a mother of five being convicted.Her crime was letting her five-year-old walk a few blocks by himself in their gated community in Virginia.
My wife and I were astonished. Our parents would’ve been thrown under the jail, as much as we freely roamed. I walked, ran, and biked everywhere, starting when I was about five. By the time I was twelve, I was hitching rides with strangers. On the other hand, maybe I was just lucky that nobody wanted to get me during that era. No one tried that until I was sixteen, when a crew-cut man in a pickup truck in his early fifties begged me to show him my pecker and offered money.
Today’s news has alarming moves revealed by the US Postal Service. As expected, Trump is trying to weaponize the USPS to stop voting by mail. As he and the GOP take a wrecking ball to nation’s norms, buildings, arts, laws, economy, healthcare system, and military, Trump is trying to keep as many people as possible from voting. He claims voting fraud but has never proven it. Likewise, other than small and isolated amounts, it’s never been found or proven elsewhere in the nation in this century.
Trump, though, is at once desperate to claim he’s popular by making the mid-term elections about him. He’s also afraid of that truth that he’s not popular. Whenever a candidate backed by Trump losing, Trump blames the candidate. Of course, the candidates he’s backed aren’t generally quality people, either, so there’s a load of blame to spread around.
Paxton is a GOPer modeled after Trump. Paxton paid $300K to get securities fraud charges against him dropped, and his wife is divorcing Paxton after reports of numerous affairs.
Big question: is Paxton also in the Epstein files, like Trump?
This was a hilarious headline:
Donald Trump ‘will quit after midterms and hand presidency to Vance’, expert predicts
That’s so ridiculous it’s not worth addressing beyond noting its existence.
Well, I also will say, if you think Trump is going to quit, I have a Trump Bible to sell you, barely used.
Speaking of selling, the Trump coin is officially available to buy. Except it’s sold out. And it’s a collectible, not legal tender. Talking about it with my wife, she asked, “Is that all they do, sit around talking about ways for Trump to put his name on things and make money?”
Why that song? The song was released in 1995 and was It seemed to come from thinking about refusing to accept all the crap Trump is doing to our world. Then, thinking about why MAGAts go along with it. Then, reflecting on history — McCarthyism, the Ku Klux Klan, the way blacks, the people who lived on this continent before us, women — anyone who wasn’t white CIS male — was treated.
We overcame those things before; we need to overcome them again. And this song speaks to that: “I don’t owe you anything.” I’m speaking to the MAGAts who believe they’ve had it so bad.
Sample Lyrics
I still refused all the methods you abused It’s alright if you’re confused, let me be I’ve been around all the pawns you’ve gagged and bound They’ll come back and knock you down and I’ll be free
I’ve taken all and I’ve endured One day it all will fade, I’m sure
I don’t owe you anything I don’t owe you anything I don’t owe you anything I don’t owe you anything
I had no hand in your ever desperate plan It returns and when it lands, words are due I should’ve known we were better off alone I looked in and I was shown, you were too
I’ll close with wishes for you to achieve and persevere today and everything, in good health, with good friends. Peace and grace to you.
One of them is barely recalled. It’s one of those episodic dreams I sometimes have, where there’s no one who I recognize as me. It’s just a story being told, like a television show.
I remember just part of a second one. Three other men and I were traveling together in an early 1960s something Cadillac convertible. We drove through sunshine with the top down. I was very impressed for some reason that there were four of us, two blacks and two whites. I believe we took turns driving.
We wore a uniform, and I knew we were on the same team but have no idea what team. From what I remember of the uniforms, they were white with dazzling embroidery, like something Elvis Presley would wear in concert.
Hungry, we stopped at a place where we decided we would pretend to be lawyers. We thought that ruse would gain us some food because we didn’t have any money. That didn’t seem to work so we drove cheerfully on through a winding orange canyon to another town.
We decided this time to claim that we were reporters. Women were running this place. One large, barrel-chested blonde woman was in charge. She mocked our claim that we were reporters, but they fed us anyway.
Dream end
Third dream involved family and food. I was with my sisters at some gathering at someone’s home. We were outside for most of the dream, where, weirdly, my sisters were baking. Besides them, there were many children. I barely knew most of them and didn’t recognize them from real life.
I needed an engine for some reason and ended up with a V8 engine with headers, a high rise manifold with a single four-barrel carb. The engine block was painted bright blue, and the air filter cover was chrome plated. After I got the engine, I realized, “I don’t need this.” But I wanted to save it. So I picked it up and put it in one of the rooms. I thought, I’ll leave that here for now but I’ll need to move it later.
My sisters and I talked a little politics. Then one announced, it’s time to eat. We got trays and loaded them up.
As I did, I went to cross the patio. Four tiny, perfect silver and black tabby kittens were playing. They’d found something and pounced on it, batting whatever it was with furious energy. I swear, these kittens were no more than three inches long.
My older sister asked me what I was doing and I showed her the kittens. She watched with me a bit, then I moved the kittens so they’d be safe.
The children and I decided to watch television. I wanted to watch football. I knew it was Sunday and games should be on, because of the time. No games were on, confusing me. I did the math: back home, the games start at 10 AM and it was almost 1 here, so there should have been a game on.
I went back to eat more cookies. My youngest sister was still baking. I walked along long tables mounded with food and wondered, laughing, why is she baking more? I ate a few cookies, which was delicious.
One brother-in-law, the Trump-loving one, was present, stretched out on a dark-brown sofa, talking. I wanted to hear what he said, but a plastic cocoon formed over him, sealing him in. I could hear him still talking but it was only a rumble of sound, and couldn’t see him at all.
Getting another cookie and eating it, my little sister demanded in her ominous ‘mom-voice’, “What are you doing?”
Laughing, I replied, “Eating a cookie? Why are you making more? Do you know you how many cookies there are?”
I saw her move the V8 engine which I’d move. I went over and picked it up to take it away, but then didn’t know where to take it.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday, August 19, 2026.
August is moving on slow as molasses for me. I’m okay with that.
The claim is that it’ll be 96 F today. Forecasts yesterday said we’d hit 95 but we were four short of that. It’s 68 outside with high clouds clotting across the blue sky.
Our fingers are crossed that Mom’s house will finally close today. The buyers are using a grant to buy. The involved realtors say that the grant review and approval process has significantly slowed this year. It’s a federal program. A large part of me wonders if the Trump administration with its personnel cutbacks is responsible.
I’m not going to go into news and politics much on this post today. Writing a separate post on them.
I’m dedicating this instead to ZZ Top and Frank Beard. ZZ Top is an American rock band which had a heavy blues influence in its early years. They were a trio: Billy Gibbons, Dusty Hill, and Frank Beard. I started listening to them in high school. Saw them in concert a few times. Now only Billy Gibbons, lead vocalist, guitar, and song writer remains as Frank Beard, 77, joined Dusty Hill in that big gig in the otherworld.
I basically divide ZZ Top’s sound into two eras. In their early years was that blues sound. Multiple favorite songs hang with me from that period. For today, I’ll go with “La Grange” and “Jesus Left Chicago”.
The second period moved ZZ Top more into commercial mainstream pop. They became phenomenally successful. My preferred sound from that era was “Sharp Dressed Man”, which my wife and I liked to sing as ‘short, fat man’.
So here we go, into the morning mental music stream. May your day be blessed with happy memories of good music and good times, and optimism for our future.
It’s 71 F in our valley at the moment. Light, high white clouds. We expect a high in the upper 80s.
A new heat dome is moving into the region. But the jet stream shifted a few years ago. Now we’re often protected from those heat domes. It can change again at any moment, so I’ll take it for now and celebrate the small win.
It’s a new month but much hasn’t changed.
Eight-five fires are burning in Oregon.
They still haven’t closed on Mom’s house. She is aware that it’s being sold, though, asking me for updates every day.
Trump is still lying. Still squirming, trying to distract us from his failures.
The Epstein files haven’t been released. Trump’s war with Iran is still going on. Affordability remains a crisis. Healthcare costs are going up.
Like many people, I’m waiting for other things. Like the old story: waiting for the other shoe to drop.
So, it’s a new month, but the same mode of waiting.
Without much surprise, The Neurons caught onto my thinking. My Neurons can be slow and flaky, easily distracted by games and cats, but like a car, they can get fired up and pointed in the right direction once in a while.
Today’s song in the morning mental music stream is “Waiting for the End”. This is a Linkin Park song. Came out in 2010. I caught it on SNL and went looking for it to hear it again.
Sample Lyrics:
Waiting for the end to come Wishing I had strength to stand This is not what I had planned It’s out of my control
Yeah, yeah What was left when that fire was gone? I thought it felt right, but that right was wrong All caught up in the eye of the storm And trying to figure out what it’s like moving on And I don’t even know what kind of things I’ve said My mouth kept moving, and my mind went dead So, I’m picking up the pieces now, where to begin? The hardest part of ending is starting again
The song is about hope, paralysis, and frustration, IMO. Feels right for today. Here we are, waiting for the end, trying to figure out how we define the end.
I hope you have a strong day, whatever one it is, whatever your season, a day that comes with lasting peace and grace.
