Coffee, a comfortable coffee house, sunshine through the window, and something to write. How could a day be more pleasant for him?
Monday’s Wandering Thought
He’d seen his shadow this afternoon. That meant another cup of coffee, and maybe two cookies after he ate his lunch.
Rules are rules.
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 Lyrics.com
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.
Cheers
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?
Wednesday’s Wandering Thought
Cruising the morning headlines, one hooked his brain. “First public erection.”
Wait, what? He went back. Ah, “First public execution.”
Oh. That’s alarming in a different way.
Definitely not good to read the news without first having his morning coffee.
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.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 