I am not a seer, though I often portray one online. But I have some thoughts coalescing around some inputs.
I think the start of PINO Trump in 2025 will be heralded by a huge spike in COVID-19. Deaths won’t be as numerous as before but it will be disruptive. It will affect the economy.
Sidebar: PINO Trump sounds like a bad wine, doesn’t it?
Anyway, I suspect the spike is already underway but will become bigly pronounced next year. First I learned that my sister, a staunch Trumper, has just finished her third dance with COVID. Then I found that two other local couples, non-Trumpers, were down with COVID. Next, I discovered that a local business had to close its doors due to a COVID outbreak.
Yes, this is all anecdotal. Small sample. But combine that with the virulent anti-vax/’COVID hoax’ manifested in the MAGA wing, a position now being empowered in the PINO’s cabinet choices, and the setup for disaster is complete.
Mood: jubtimism. (Yes, that’s a weird combo of jubilant and optimistic, weird in face of the dark news that keeps spitting in my face.)
Hey to all who are doing time with me on the third rock. Today is Tuesday, Feb. 13, 2024. Completely gray on gray today, again, with sunshine shifting and sliding through cloud breaks when it can. Daffs have broken out to spread their color across the sprinter landscape. 50 F now, no snow on the ground in the valley or nearby peaks. If you need to see some snow, hop onto I5 and drive a few miles south to Mt. Ashland. If you don’t turn off for Mt Ashland but keep going toward California, Mt. Shasta, just fifty miles away, will present a postcard image for you as the Interstate rises and falls.
I watched the Super Bowl last Sunday and saw some NFL commercials about bullying. That woke up some Neurons, who came up with a 1989 Chris Rea song, “The Road to Hell”, and have it playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). See, these big NFL players quoted children and adults who were bullied. The survivors talked about facing daily fear. Terror. Likewise, we have this election campaign where fear and terror are being employed in lieu of policies or intelligent discourse. If Trump wins, he promised to be a dictator. Some of his followers tried overthrowing the election results back on Jan 6, 2021. They now promise greater violence if Trump loses, as do members of Congress who carry his water. Contrary to all presented facts and evidence, they insist that Trump win the 2020 election, but was cheated out of staying in office.
And now, facing all manner of trials and criminal charges, which seem to be stacking up, Trump wants to be declared immune from anything criminal he did while President. As the first judicial panel ruling on his claim noted, that would remove the POTUS from the checks and balances built into the Constitution. If that happened, what, beyond his character, would stop President Biden from saying, “Gosh, if Trump is immune, so am I.”
So there are fears out there for our democracy and republic. Hence, The Neurons pulled up the lines from Chris Rea’s 1989 song, “The perverted fear of violence chokes the smile off every face. Common sense is ringing out bells. This ain’t no technological breakdown. Oh, no. This is the road to hell.”
Sorry if I’m as dark as my coffee this morning. Been reading Rachel Maddow’s book, Prequel: An American Fight Against Fascism, yesterday and today. Illuminating, of course, but sometimes history can be depressing. She traces the efforts of paramilitary groups trying to end democracy in the US back in the 1930s to give fascism a chance. They worked under names like The Christian Front, the Silver Legion, and the American White Guard. These were lunatics with powerful friends, which aptly summarizes much of the MAGA movement and QAnon. In summary, both in the past and now, I didn’t realize that so many Americans harbored an authoritarian mindset. Being a Star Trek fan, I though boldly heading toward a new era of equality, freedom, and justice. I didn’t realize that a block of people exist who abhor those things.
On the flip side of my dark street, Jamie Lee Curtis’s performance as the matriarch in The Bear was powerful stuff. Yes, we’re just catching up with the second season. I’d heard about the hit series, and decided to check it out. Glad on did.
Also on the bright side, the house painting is moving closer to fini. That’s pretty darn exciting. Looking back, the project’s genesis was in the early months of 2020. We were just collecting names for bids when COVID landed and the shutdown commenced. In 2021, we moved toward getting quotes but supplies were limited because of supply chain issues in response to the COVID shutdown. Not much was done in 2022 about the painting because…(cough, cough) COVID. Finally, in 2023, quotes were gathered and agreements made, but the painting backlog pushed us back to this year.
I’ve had coffee, thanks. Be strong, remain positive, lean forward, and voOte. Register first, of course. Pitter patter, get ‘er at her. Here is Chris Rea with his slide guitar. Cheer
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.
Writing has been a struggle. Taking care of Mom means that I give her first priority. My time and thinking keeps getting fragmented. Also, I’ve been on meds to eliminate my cough. As it’s almost gone, I quit the meds. Looking at the bottle, I saw that it can cause drowsiness and dizziness.
Lightning struck. The meds were dulling my thinking. That was behind my writing struggles. I immediately said, no more meds, and it was like a curtain was pulled back.
6:40 AM. I was outside looking for the sunrise. Cold and dark, no sign of sunshine stood out in the east. Sunrise was due at 7:20 but the impending event was being kept on the downlow.
Saturday, September 24, 2022, has been tagged. Less than a week of the year’s ninth month remains before 2022’s final quarter begins, the dreaded and dreamed upon fourth quarter. Dominated by the holiday season in the U.S., it’s a period heavy with sales, parties, and consumption. Yes, I don’t embrace the season with high spirits and open arms. But it’s the world we’ve created.
Meanwhile, it’s 45 F today, high of 18 C projected, sunset at 7:23 PM, providing us with twelve hours and three minutes of daylight.
Our family’s big news is Mom’s return home yesterday. First day went very well. She looks and sounds so much better, and ate well. Fingers crossed, knock wood, that it continues like this. Her foray through her inventory of daily medications stunned me. Morning, evening, night, sometimes taken multiple times a day, pills for everything were prescribed. Charts and pill cases keep it straight but it’s a mind-numbing collection.
I’ve tested negative for COVID now, but mild coughing and congestion continues. Did resort to two Tylenols last night, but no tissues were used last night, no cough drops consumed, only one glass of water down. Slow progress but progress counts. Other family members continue to test positive but everyone is feeling and doing much better.
Novel writing in this environment has been a challenge. I fight to eke out a page each day around the swirl of activity. Frustrating, yes, as thinking, attention, and continuity take hits.
“Chains of Love” by Erasure, a 1988 hit for them, occupies the morning mental music stream. The Neurons brought it up from the memory banks as I reflected on when to return home. Chains of responsibility, duty, concern, and love keep me staying with Mom in her home, but I have all of those out west with my wife and cats, who I miss. My wife and I exchange emails and speak on the phone. She’s doing well — they’re doing well. She says, stay as long as you want, as long as you’re needed. I’d like to go back to my beloved and to my routines, but these chains keep me here. It’s all metaphorical, of course. Leaving is my choice at any time. It’s another aspect of my fortunate life.
Stay positive, test negative, and so on. Take care of yourselves and your loved ones and community. Coffee? Not yet. The household is still asleep. Here comes the sun. Here’s the tune.
Thursday, September 15, 2022, dawned at 7:00 AM with variable results. Chaotic cumulus clouds mixed with sunshine and blue sky to create a sullen envelope for the day. 17.7 C now, 76 F will be today’s peak temperature. 7:31 PM will see sunset take place.
I’m busy with a personal project, building a mountain of used tissues and cough drops. I’m very proud of my accomplishment. It’s not a bad way to deal with COVID compared to others’ suffering.
Haven’t seen Mom due to my sit. Her abscess was drained and she’s being moved from the step down unit to a normal private room. She’ll remain in isolation.
The Neurons plugged “Open Arms” by Journey (1982) into the morning mental music stream. Drifting in and out of sleep in the dark room last night, I’d listen to my heartbeat. The Neurons picked up on that and began playing with songs which had heartbeat or darkness as part of the lyrics. Yeah, The Neurons are a crazy beast. The song was released while I was stationed at Kadena, Okinawa, Japan, so it’s attached to that era in my thinking. This is one of those songs that forces memories of our small off-base apartment to my mind’s forefront. I remember the cats who came to us then and lived with us. We took them back to America with us, and then was forced to leave them there when we went to Japan. My SIL took care of them for us. But once we returned, we took them with us to California. Both passed away there, Crystal, a Bombay black was twelve, while Jade was 21.
Stay positive and test negative. No coffee, thanks, I’ve already had a cup. Mark me down for another cup later. Here’s the song. Cheers
Riding the COVID train. Slept well, fever broke, coughing is mild and infrequent. Day three of symptoms, but just tested yesterday. Other family members have tested pos or are feeling ill. Haven’t done tracing but I suspect a Sunday family gathering.
Meanwhile, though, Mom is getting better. She’d developed an abscess along her lumbar spine. They were draining that today. Holding off on pacemaker work. She had a bowel movement yesterday, first in a week, and she told me she felt so much better after that. Will be in hospital for several more weeks, pending the ebb and flow.
Today is Wednesday, September 14, 2022, a day which will live in infamy, maybe. Depends on what happens on this day in your life, yeah? Sunset is 7:31 PM and sunrise took place twelve hours and thirty-one minutes before that. It’s 73 F out there and the high is supposed to be 76 F. It’s mostly sunny out there.
Okay, so The Neurons have planted “Train Kept A-Rollin'” in my morning mental music stream. The ’74 version by Aerosmith is playing. A heavy blues rock cover, it’s the first version I ever knew. I think The Neurons are making some oblique snarky reference to either being sick, or how COVID keeps striking.
Well, stay positive. Test negative. Haven’t had coffee today. Don’t think I will. Have a good one. Here’s the tune. Hope you enjoy it. Cheers
Remember when famous folks used to die, a myth sprang up that it always opened in threes? Also, some writers ascribe to a rule to always do things in threes. (Yeah, I’m not up to explaining that for now. Google it.)
Well, I had a kinda rough day. Three more or less bad things happened.
They only have decaf in the house. I’ve survived by going out and buying a large cuppa each morning. But —
Tested positive for COVID today after I spent a few hours visiting mom. Fully masked the entire time. Been masking whenever I went public. And only decaf in the house where I’m isolating. No one to take care of me, neither. (Waaah.)
Checked my credit card online today and found fraudulent purchases. Reported them but that means I need new cards.
So, you know, end of day. At least Mom is getting better (but will be in the hospital for another four to six weeks). Others I’ve been in contact with are negative. I have mild sore throat, mild headache. Don’t know about a fever because the thermometer’s battery is dead. My sister did say she’d bring some coffee by for me. She’s such a sweetheart.
6:20 AM. It was about twenty-two minutes before sunrise. I was in front of my house, talking to Papi, the floof is who also hailed as the Ginger Prince and the Slender Blade. My house front faces west. Clouds were rolling in over the western horizon. They surprised me because they were contrary to expectations.
Rain began. Big, fat diamond drops. Wow, cool, I thought. 6:21, the rain stopped.
Although the day grew lighter with the sun’s presence, I couldn’t see it. It was already 22 C at that point heralding that the forecasts that we’ll strike 100 F today are probably right. Air is fresh and clean and in the green.
8:08 AM. The Slender Blade and I were in the backyard speaking with the other house floof, Tucker, the black and white fella also known as Your Lordship. Sunshine cracked in between spaces shaped by a roof and a tree. Rain showered down for ten furious seconds and then stopped. Seems like Wednesday, September 7. 2022, will be an interesting day.
Mom is in the hospital, taken in yesterday afternoon after falling at home, all COVID related. Word this morning is that she ruptured her appendix. She was also severely dehydrated. Fingers crossed that she and the medicos work their way through these issues.
While I was floof visiting and noting the weather this morning, I looked to the south and reflected, it’s been a long time since we’ve gone south, i.e., into California. Wildfires and COVID, of course. Plus, expensive.
But The Neurons heard me saying something about traveling south in my head. Right away, they plugged a song by Alice in Chains, “I Stay Away” (1993), into the morning mental music stream.
Here’s the music. I’ve had my coffee. Heading to an appointment to have a Ziopatch applied. Stay positive, test negative, and so on. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 