Shineday’s Theme Music

It’s a shiny new cold day in the thumb of Ashland, Oregon, where my house sits. 29 F with a high of 39 F projected. Sunshine slithered over the mountains and through the branches at 7:30-ish this morning, but its rays didn’t strike any of our windowpanes until over an hour later. That’s the nature of the angles and impediments to the sunshine at this period of year.

Today is Sunday, January 29, 2023. Just two shopping days left until February pounces on us. They told us we’d have rain yesterday; never saw or heard any. Then they mentioned snow. Should start at 10 PM. No, make that after midnight, Sunday morning, really. Saw none of that the few times I glanced out the window. I thought, maybe they got their Sundays confused. Easy to do almost any time of year, but especially winter, when little is growing. The days appear the same because markings aren’t there to mark any changes. We just keep warm and wait for the shift to begin at our house.

Reading books and news and pondering generalities, The Neurons decided to entertain me with “Lunatic Fringe” by Red Rider from 1981. It’s circulating around the morning mental music stream, bobbing in and out of conscious thought. The song is about the rise of antisemitism which the songwriter, Tom Cochrane, noticed in the late 1970s. Here we are, almost fifty years later, and we were are again, dealing with antisemitism on the rise. It’s a defiant song.

Lunatic fringe
In the twilight's last gleaming
But this is open season
But you won't get too far
'Cause you've got to blame someone
For your own confusion
We're on guard this time (on guard this time)
Against your final solution

h/t to

The blessed smell entertaining my nose tells me my coffee is brewed. So off I go. Stay positive, as best as you can. We know it’s a sliding scale, spectrum of relativity. Here is the song. Enjoy.


Tuesday’s Theme Music

You might not know unless you have a calendar, but this is Tuesday, 1/24/23. I’m on assignment on twenty-first century Earth where the calendar is sacred, equally important in education, entertainment, and business in most of the world.

I’ve landed again in Ashlandia, a small town, but not quaint. If you remember, it’s located in a river valley in a region officially called the state of Oregon, in a section that is further identified by its geographic location relative to the rest of the state, which is the south. Hence, one staying here for any time will hear ‘southern Oregon’ mentioned. Ashlandia’s population struggles with identity, wanting to have nice things, unable to agree what the nice things are or how much they’re willing to pay and sacrifice to have their nice things. I’ve learned through my many visits here that endless conversations about the same subjects are reprised through months, seasons, and years. Only new home and business construction goes forward even as most worry that they lack the water and infrastructure for new places and many business locations are empty. However, construction is an industry which should not be stopped. Again, as noted in previous reports, they have empty houses and dormitories but argue about what to do about their homeless population.

Ashlandia’s weather is much like its population, muddling on as something somewhere in the middle. It is winter but sunny, cold at night, warming during the day. This day started with temperatures in the high twenties. Sunshine, which came over the mountains at 7:32 in the morning, has warmed the air and earth. With a cloudless blue sky capping the valley, Ashlandia’s temperature is now in the mid-thirties and is expecting to reach the low fifties before the sun leaves the sky at 5:15 this afternoon. (That may be evening; evening and afternoon seem hazy, even misconstrued or misunderstood expressions with haphazard agreement about when afternoon ends and evening begins.)

I heard a song playing on the radio. Radios are in every road vehicle and many people spend time in road vehicles each day. The song I heard was “(You Can Still) Rock in America”. This song was recorded and released in 1983 by a song group who called themselves ‘Night Ranger’, a name which they selected to symbolize what they stand for. Admittedly, the song enthralled my human form. Apparently, my host, a male in in his mid-sixties, knew the song, as he started singing parts of the song. He became especially energetic singing the phrase, “You can still rock in America,” which is also the song’s title. He seemed to become dour, even disappointed when the song concluded. My understanding of this creatures is still weak.

I will partake of ‘coffee’ now. Many, include my host, drinks this to stimulate them each day. It’s one of many stimulants available and used by the town’s population. I’ve attached the song for your sampling. I close with hopes that I’ll not need to stay in this body in Ashlandia for too many more cycles. Your servant, Cheers

Monday’s Theme Music

Long, thin shadows slash the ground as sunshine creeps out of the mists like a forgotten movie star. Monday has come on us again, regular as a calendar. It’s December 19, 2022, and the southern Oregon temperature hovers at 27 degrees F. The sunny disposition of the twenty-four-hour cycle commenced at 7:35 this morning and will be completed with the sun’s turning away at 4:41 this PM. These are colder days than we’re used to, on average. It’s 27 F now, but we’re used to the bottom being 31 F. The highs are closer to average, 46, and that’s what we’ll see today. But this extended period of temperatures dipping into the low to mid-twenties is a winter flavor that we taste in the winter months, but not every day, and it’s not winning me over as other things that I taste every day has done, such as coffee. It’s not like the cold temperatures are delivering some wonderful winter scenes of snow to give it that holiday feel. No, autumn colors have fled. Although grasses are green, the annuals are brown and naked. The land just looks weary.

Yeah, in a darker place today, a culmination of matters which really don’t matter, but try telling that to your brain and emotions, yeah? Yeah. Has me thinking of 1991. 1991 was a transition year for me, coming back from Europe to the U.S., and re-developing my relationship with American culture. 1991 seems like yesterday, as does 1985, and 1975, and many other years, but are all receding further into my past.

Today’s reflective, melancholy mélange has The Neurons playing a 1991 tune by Yes called “Lift Me Up”. Music groups have their own life cycles and Yes has a long, complicated existence. Two versions of Yes as a group were out there for a while, arguing over the right to be Yes. This song is off an album called Union with songs from both Yes factions. It was a real Yes mess but I like this Yes song. It has the usual progressive nuances which occupy every Yes song. Hope you enjoy it and it does a memory thingy for you as it has for me.

Stay pos and test neg. Endure and get on through the lows and highs, however much they swallow and lift you. Now, where is my coffee? It feels like a coffee day. Of course, so does every day, IMO. Here’s the 1991 music, courtesy of 2022 technology and commerce. Cheers

Thursday’s Wandering Thought

Ella was bubbly, happy, upbeat, and friendly, as usual. She took his usual drink order and then he asked, “Are you always so energetic and upbeat?”

She thought for two full seconds and then nodded, smiling, eyes bright and big. “Yes, I am.”

“Do you get here and drink a gallon of coffee when you start your shift?”

Ella smiled. “Would you believe, I don’t drink any coffee or tea.”

“Sugar? Chocolate?”

“Nope. This is just how I am.”

He smiled in admiration. “Wow. I am so jealous.” He hoped she was always like that but who knew how her life would change?

Tuesday’s Wandering Thought

He’d done Wordle in two moves yesterday, and he was proud and pleased. Two moves! He was usually lucky to get it done in four. But he’d taken his wife’s advice to be intuitive. And, you know, he’d been lucky.

She’d finally joined him in the office, giving him the chance to crow. After mentioning the intuition thing, he said, “So my first guess was offbeat.”

Confusion creased her expression. “Offbeat is too big.”

He stared at her. “Let me try again. My first guess was an offbeat word choice.”

“Choice is six letters. That’s too many letters.” Understanding broke on her face. “Oh, I see.”

His stare deepened. “Tell you what, honey. Let’s get some coffee in you and then I’ll continue this tale.”

Both laughed.

Sunday’s Theme Music

Sunshine is blending the clouds and blue skies into sweet fall melange. Winter temperatures jumped into the blend last night, taking us to 29 F. Up to 34 F now — feels like 3 C, the weather machines tell me — but it’ll rise up to 55 F later.

This is Sunday, November 20, 2022, the final Sunday before Thanksgiving celebrations begin and Black Friday officially starts. Our sun came around to see how we’re doing this morning at 7:07 and will abandon us like an old milk box at 4:45 this afternoon.

My latest flu & COVID vaccinations worked me over a bit yesterday. Squeezed my energy until I was an empty toothpaste roll. Hammered muscles into aching submission whether I moved or stayed still, and fossilized my joints. The cherry on top was a headache that circled front to back and up and down my cranium like it was trying to improve reception. Appetite remained great, but my mind was murky as coal mine slurry — Wordle was no fun — but bowel movements were unaffected. That was me in a webisode. All day was spent eating, writing, reading, and napping. So, not much difference from the usual.

Now I feel better than I did before the shots. What a difference twenty-four little hours can deliver.

The Neurons are all over that comment about a difference brought on by twenty-four hours. They’ve activated the morning mental music stream. The featured song is “What a Diff’rence a Day Makes” by Dinah Washington from 1959. I’m going instead with the upbeat version delivered by Esther Phillips. Her voice is so distinctive that it’s hardwired into memory. What isn’t hardwired is when song came out. Turned out to be 1975 according to the Wikipedia gang. I also learned that Esther Phillips died when she was 48, brought down by kidney and liver issues caused by drug abuse.

Must dash now. A cat is calling, and I am a flooftouch. Cup of coffee is also serenading me and you know it would be unkind to not say hello and spend some time with it. Stay positive, test negative, get vaxxes as needed. Here we go, Sunday, here we go.


Wednesday’s Theme Music

Hello! Welcome to Wed-nez-day.That’ how I always feel it should be said, and I often do say it that way. But language and pronunciation are like quantum physics, working to their own mysterious rules.

It’s the 16th of November, 2022. The month and the year are uncoiling for their final segments.

Sunshine has invaded the fall sky, complemented by a rich abundance of wind. Sunrise jumpstarted daytime at 0702. Night’s portion of this Wed-nez-day falls into place at 1648 tonight. It’s 50 out now — that’s Fahrenheit — and the 62 is the expected high.

No news on Mom. Sitting here drumming my fingers, waiting for test results. Middle little sister — I have three younger sisters to match my one older one, and they are an interesting set — said that test results usually need four days in that hospital system. Herself says she’s feeling fine but annoyed.

Feeding the beasts this morning, I was singing them a song that I often utilize, that being “Fifty Ways to Feed Your Floofy”. The lyrics for my cover go, “Just open a can, Sam. Fill the bowl, Moe. Just feed it to me. Don’t look at the clock, Jock. Don’t need to discuss much, just pour out the food, dude. Give me something to eat.”

The Neurons picked up on it, so the original Paul Simon melody is thriving in the morning mental music stream. This was Simon’s only solo number one. When I heard that years ago, I had to verify it using the net. Did it again today. It’s such a familiar song for me and lends itself well to the morning feeding ritual. The song was released in 1975, the same year my SO and I started leaving together and then married.

Coffee is being drunk. The Neurons are happy. Stay positive, test negative, and vax up, including the flu, you know? It’s doing the circuits, dropping people out of social and volunteer commitments. Hope it doesn’t get you.

Here’s the tune. Feel free to supply your own lyrics, like, “Give me a cup of brew, Stu. Must be fifty ways to have your coffee.” I’m having mine with Meyer’s lemon pound cake. Wife made it to give to others. It wasn’t to her standards, so I’m the beneficiary. That light sweetness goes great with my coffee’s bitter essence.


Tuesday’s Theme Music

I thought we’d play a game today. I’m not going to tell you what day of the week it is. Instead, I’ll give you a clue: it’s between Monday and Tuesday. As a second clue, I’ll tell you that it’s November 15, 2022, but don’t cheat and look at a calendar or computer to see which day of the week it is, alright? Cool. This should be fun.

It’s a bigly windy and sunny day out there. Winds roaring about like a big, drunk, hairy guy, shaking leaves on trees and shouting incoherently about what’s going on. People try to avoid him but he’s every dang place. Temperature has settled at 48 degrees F under these conditions but the weather they say it’ll get up to 52 F. I’m optimistic because yesterday saw us peak at 59 F. It was lovely except a wind would rake you once in a while, like reminding you, winter is looking over your shoulder. The sun came on stage at 7:01 AM while they’ll take their final bows in the valley at 4:49 this evening. Should be sunny all day, though.

On the personal front, Mom has gone in and out of the hospital again. Concerns about her appendix took her in last Thursday. They saw fluid in her appendix on imaging, put her on meds, drew blood and urine for the lab, and sent her home. Yesterday, they called her back in because they’d found Yokenella regensburgei in the lab results. Mom, a retired nurse, had never heard of it, and no wonder, because from what my net reading tells me, it’s pretty rare. The family tree is shook by this news. After bringing Mom in yesterday for more tests, they gave her meds and sent her home. We don’t know what they’re planning, but I read some case studies so we have some idea of what to expect. Fingers crossed for the tough old broad once again. She says she feels fine although the news wearied her.

For music, I’m going with “I Ain’t Worried” by OneRepublic. The song was featured in the Top Gun fillum this year but I haven’t seen the movie. People seemed to like it but we weren’t enticed enough to go sit in a theater with a mask on for a few hours.

The Neurons pulled the song up after my wife said something to me, a trivial matter to which I responded, “I’m not worried about it right now.” If you’re familiar with the song, it features this whistling part. Soon as I uttered my words, The Neurons started that whistling part. Now it’s traveling the morning mental music stream like the moon going around the Earth.

Okay, on to other things. Stay positive, etc. The coffee has already been tested and deemed useful for delivering a refreshing taste and giving me enough energy to breathe and think, though maybe not at the same time. More coffee will be needed for that. Here’s the song. Enjoy the whistling.


Monday’s Theme Music

Darkness stole away. Into the void rose the sun.

Snow had fallen during the night. The 7 AM sunrise brought the heat and chased the thin wet snow away. We’ve regressed from winter to autumn again. A brisk wind adds some winter snap but the leaves keep autumn’s vivid colors present.

It’s Monday, November 14, 2022. Sunset will happen at 1650. Meanwhile, the temperature, now at 40 F, will hump up to 52 F.

Getting a late posting start today. Wife and I did our monthly food delivery. She wanted to leave early. Don’t know why, as we’ve learned the best time to go. I began protesting but saw the set lip and a lost argument. We went when she wanted and ended up waiting twenty minutes while they got everything ready. Yes, I’m whining. It’s Monday and my low-coffee warning is going off.

The continuing episode of life as a couple married for almost half a century awoke The Neurons. They started plinking a line, “Change, nothing stays the same,” because the disagreement was one of those things that does stay the same. It might not stay the same but oak trees grow from seeds into mighty trees before change in the relationship is seen. I mean, Gen Z will be grandparents first, if you see what I’m saying. Dave Chappelle will be a MAGA running for POTUS first.

So, Les Neurons quickly had “Unchained” by Van Halen (1981) perking in the morning mental music stream. It’s all based on that, “Change, nothing stays the same” moment, although Der Neurons also like the phrases, “Non-stop talker, what a rocker, blue-eyed murder in a size five dress.” Those are lines that conjure sharp impressions. I’m gonna miss Van Halen, both the rocking guitarist and the band. Yes, the song is a repeat. I’ll refund the money that you paid to read this to compensate.

The second round of coffee has been delivered to offset the clanging need for more. Stay positive and test negative. We’re good to go for another day. Here’s the music. Cheers

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