Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I was deep into a writing day at the coffee shop when I happened to look up. Across the room was a young girl—maybe six. In her hand was a huge chocolate croissant. I swear the pastry was as large as her head. She kept attacking it with her tiny mouth, trying again and again to make inroads into the dough.
As I smiled to myself and glanced around, I noticed others doing the same. We all seemed to feel it: the quiet pleasure of witnessing a sweet moment—a sweetie going after a sweet.
I was on my back for two weeks, foot in the air, recovering from surgery. Access to the net was limited to my phone, television, and iPad mini. It’s a laugh, isn’t it? A real first world blues statement to say how much I was limited and then share how much access I actually enjoyed. It’s a position of privilege.
What I meant and I should have written, I wasn’t able to sit down at will and jump on the ol’ laptop and do my usual surfing and posting and reading. I’m very much an organic, stream of consciousness, writer, though.
Anyway, modern television is an abomination to me. Just my tastes. I’d turn on and surf channels. We don’t have cable or satellite (again, my privilege talking), but have a smart TV with net access and an over-the-air digital antenna. I was amazed by the number of shows like “People’s Court” and “Judge Judy” are out there. We’re a copycat society. Startling number of shows about pawn shops and towing businesses, too. The standard American AM talk shows still exist, spouting vapid enthusiasm about cultural trends, getting serious for a minute of weather and five minutes of news before going back to the giggles about “Wicked” or Billy Bob Thornton.
So I read and slept and binge-streamed old favorites, along with one new one, “Band of Brothers”. Two of books were older novels I’d purchased at used-book stores on whim. These were “Down River” by John Hart and “Utopia” by Lincoln Child. Both are page turners, with the former firmly entrenched as a well-written potboiler to my mind. Love that expression, ‘potboiler’. The other was a new Jackson Brody novel by Kate Atkinson. I’m a JB fan, and a KA fan, as is my wife, so she went on the waiting list, got it for us, and let me read it first.
I enjoy how Atkinson has aged Brody. He used to see himself or get discussed as a protector of women. Now he found himself being judged by a court of women. He’s less driven, more reflecting.
What’ve you guys been reading? Probably more recent stuff, right? Amazing number of excellent books out there, waiting to be devoured.
Cheers
Mood: refreshed
My jeans came off again.
The shorts went on. Officially, they’re ‘short pants’.
This is Wednesday, April 10, 2024. 66 F now, the warm end of our day will rise to 71 F. Everything is in bloom under blue, sunny skies. It’s bold with yellows, pinks, and white blossoms and blooms, people, against a fully backdrop of green grasses and trees — along with
Things are going well for me, thanks. A woman at the coffee shop told me, “You have nice legs. If I had legs like that, I’d be in shorts, too.”
She appeared a few years younger than me and had a perfect stage voice. I’m not one who enjoys attention. Baby, I was cringing inside. But I smiled and thanked her. She responded, “Wow, you have a great smile, too.” I felt like everyone was looking by now. I thanked her again, and she waved and went on.
Back ‘home’, Mom was discharged from Forbes Hospital after treatment for appendicitis. A day and night of diarrhea was endured. Now, after being up all night in pain, she’s back at the hospital for a CT scan to see why she has pain and a fever.
My sister, G, is on the scene, waiting for news. It’s a business day at the hospital. Parking is full. The parking situation and emergency responsiveness are hampered by a sinkhole in the parking lot.
A social worker came out and spoke with sis. No beds are available for Mom and they’re proposing to scan her at another location. Now they’re suggesting, take her home and bring her back tomorrow.
WTF questions arise. Sis is dealing with it. She’s intelligent, competent, and hard-edged at times like this, unafraid to question authority, and willing to stand her ground. In other words, she’s a good person to have on site.
I was thinking about my aunt J. She’s the one I previously wrote about with colon cancer.
I always admired her and enjoy her company. She always spoke to me like I was an adult when I was a child. I think she was instrumental in teaching me to think about matters from different perspectives. That’s a quality that I’ve often depended on, and which is responsible for whatever successes and achievements I’ve had. Good to have people like her in one’s life.
I didn’t learn about all her issues. She married and was divorced when young. One child. Then, another child from an affair. That child, my cousin, was put into an orphanage until my aunt could get her life in order. She finally met and married the love of her life, as she described him, and had three more children. She and I were together until brain cancer took him about a decade ago.
Update from sis about Mom. Fever is gone. Mom is in a bed in a hallway. Awaiting further developments.
Tucker goes back to the vet this afternoon. It’s a checkup on his thyroid, high blood pressure, and his gums after having his teeth removed. Fingers crossed that my old friend is found to be healing well and his issues under control. He’s gained weight, energy, and enthusiasm over the last few days.
Two thirds of the way through reading Kings of the Wyld. High fantasy variation, and worth reading if fantasy speaks to you. An interesting spin is that adventurers are ‘bands’, much like rock bands, and treated like rock stars. We readers are in on the idea but it’s not heavy handed. Our protagonist band broke up years before and have aged into normal lives. Now, yes, they got the band back together to save one of their daughters. I highly recommend this Nicholas Eames novel, even though I’ve not finished it. Still have about one hundred fifty pages left. My wife read it first, and then urged me to read it.
Today’s music comes straight out of 1966. After reading a Heather Richardson post, I thought, tell it like it is. One of our nation’s political problems IMO is that politicians on the right lie to their supporters, and the media goes along with it for the most part. Some journalists are beginning to seriously hipcheck some of the liars but too many get a free ride. I can provide substantial examples, if you need it.
Anyway, overhearing my thinking about Ms. Richardson’s post, The Neurons began playing Aaron Neville and “Tell It Like It Is” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark burning). A beautiful torch song, it’s a good song when you’re at a fork in the road, looking back on what’s happened while gazing ahead, trying to divine a path forward.
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue this November. I’ll be doing the same. Now, riding on wings of coffee, I’m off to continue writing and editing.
Here’s the music. Cheers
I’m a young boy climbing a slippery dark green hill in the dream. It seems like it’s late in the day.
I’m muddy and grass stained. I hold onto tufts of grass to pull myself forward. The grass breaks again and again. I fall backwards and slide, but catch myself. I’m making progress, but it’s slow, wearying, and tedious.
A shadow passes over me. Engrossed with my climbing, I notice it but don’t look up. When it passes me again, I think, bird. When the shadow goes over me a third time, it seems slower and larger, so I look up.
It’s a man with wings.
My first thought is, “Angel.” He’s grubby and bearded, though, with dirty hair and torn clothing. I decide, “That’s not an angel.”
Wings beating the air, he hovers above me. I think, he shouldn’t be able to do that. His wings aren’t beating fast enough. I wonder if wires hold him up.
He says, “Do you have the map?”
I don’t know what he’s talking about.
He says, “The map. You’re supposed to have the map.” He’s speaking slow and loud. “Do you have it?”
I shake my head. I want to continue climbing the hill.
After watching me some time in a way that makes me itch, he flies away. I resume climbing. Then, thinking, the map, I stop and begin searching my clothes for the map. I recall, yes, I’m supposed to have a map. I remember the flying man and realize that I’m no longer a little boy. I want to turn and look down the hill. The hill seems like a mountain now. I don’t look back because I think I’m still back there, climbing as a little boy. I don’t want to see that.
I search the sky instead, looking for the flying man, trying to catch a glimpse of his shadow.
I think, was I the flying man?
He could’ve looked like me.
Or I looked like him.
The trip was starting. Anticipation uplifted me excited energy. But first —
A young boy called after me. Seeing his grin, I answered with the same. “Did you get it?” I asked as he ran up to me. “Did yu get the one you wanted?”
“Better,” the boy replied. “He gave me both my first and second choices.”
I hugged him. “I’m happy for you.” Then I rushed off to my journey.
Events interrupted. I needed my recall roster.*
Where was it? Where was it? I scurried about, opening and closing drawers in search of it as others asked, “Do you have your recall roster,” or told me, “You need your recall roster.”
“I know, I know,” I kept saying. Opening an old wooden rolltop desk, I discovered two fresh sandwiches on plates. “So that’s where I put those.”
I didn’t need two sandwiches so I fed one to a friend’s dog, then took the other sandwich out and place it on a table to eat. Another sandwich of another kind was already on the table. A passing friend said, “I picked up that sandwich for you, Michael.” As I thanked them, another sandwich was put on a plate before me. “For you,” another friend said.
I protested, “I already have a sandwich. Who needs a sandwich?”
Others joined me, eager for a sandwich. As I began eating, I found I had one sandwich left over. A man sat to my right. “Mind if I eat this, Michael?”
“No.” I realized the man picking up the sandwich was my main character.
That made me laugh.
* Recall Roster – a telephone contact list used for mobilization and rapid notifications
Michael Seidel, writer 