Monday’s Theme Music

I enjoy the Imagine Dragons. Lyrics from their 2012 song, “Radioactive”, visited this morning.

I’m waking up, I feel it in my bones
Enough to make my system blow

Welcome to the new age, to the new age
Welcome to the new age, to the new age

h/t to Genius.com

2020 certainly feels like a new age. Divisions in the U.S. make us wonder what’ll happen after November’s elections. As people shun wearing masks and distancing, in part because POTUS 45 doesn’t mask and weakly endorses the CDC guidelines, signs are growing that the COVID-19 pandemic is going to be here for a while.

Yes, it’s enough to make my system blow.

Thursday’s Theme Music

I dreamed a black man in black clothes came by and fixed my arm. He was upbeat about it all.

Thinking that over, I opened my eyes and checked the time: 6:01. Not needing to get up and wanting more sleep, I told myself, I’ll just close my eyes for a moment.

My mind answered, “I close my eyes, only for a moment, then the moment’s gone.” Then the rest of the classic rock tune, “Dust in the Wind” by Kansas (1978), swelled in my head.

It’s a good choice as theme music goes. We’re battling over rights, equality, facts and science, trying to preserve our lives, planets, and society while coping with COVID, all to a cacophony of bullshit from the WH. Sometimes I feel like we’re warring nests of ants. Then, looking at the stars, I remember that we’re stardust, born on a cosmic wind.

Thursday Trifles

  1. Yes, I’m watching what’s happening 280 miles up the road in Portland and the Feds in there under Trump’s orders. Yes, I’m angry. Yes, I’m proud of Portland’s citizens and Oregonians pushing back. Bottom line for Trump: I believe it’s another ego play for him, but I also think he’s trying to energize his campaign and drive headlines away from the mounting COVID-19 deaths. I also think it’s a poor strategy for him. We’ll know in November.
  2. Went shopping at Trader Joe’s and Costco today during elderly hours. All were masked and polite but the stores were pretty lean with customers on this warm summer Thursday. Yeah, I’m not complaining. Our bills startled me: $142 and $195, all food and staples. Then again, that’s most of the groc shop for the month. We’re saving half our monthly income because we don’t go anywhere. Small blessings, right? I’ll take them.
  3. We’ve reached our summer temps. A gentle rhythm has begun. Temps stat in the low nineties and slowly rise to 100, then drop to the low nineties again; repeat. This goes on for five to seven days. It cools to high fifties to seventy at night. We throw the windows and doors open, chill the house overnight, then seal the house the next morning. The office is the warmest room, so we run a small fan in there. We’ve yet to run the air con, knock wood.
  4. Our house floofs are loving the weather. Sleep all day in a comfy place, come in for dinner, then patrol the darkness, kibbling through the night.
  5. Unfortunately, with the summer weather come lightning strikes in the mountains and wildfires. We get smoky air and worries. Ten fires were covered in the news. We  have organizations and well-trained people to deal with it, for which I’m grateful. We stay concerned about them and their health and safety. Talk about some brave, essential people. I put them on that list.
  6. Got my coffee. You know what that means. One-handed typing is slow going, but I think my muses are flourishing with the slowdown. I’m enjoying the slow train, too, and how my pace lets more unfold. Okay, onward: I’m going to go write like crazy, at least one more time, but slowly.

Had a rona moment, calling today Tuesday when it’s Saturday. I mean, Thunesday. Whatever.

Tuesday’s Theme Music

As the coronavirus, economy, and politics dominate the days in negative ways, I thought of Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush performing Peter Gabriel’s quiet and hopeful “Don’t Give Up” (1986).

The song is about struggle, trying, getting beaten, and trying again.

Though I saw it all around
Never thought that I could be affected
Thought that we’d be last to go
It is so strange the way things turn
Drove the night toward my home
The place that I was born, on the lakeside
As daylight broke, I saw the earth
The trees had burned down to the ground

Don’t give up, you still have us
Don’t give up, we don’t need much of anything
Don’t give up, ’cause somewhere there’s a place where we belong

Rest your head, you worry too much
It’s going to be alright
When times get rough, you can fall back on us
Don’t give up, please don’t give up
Got to walk out of here, I can’t take any more
Gonna stand on that bridge, keep my eyes down below
Whatever may come and whatever may go
That river’s flowing, that river’s flowing

h/t to Genius.com

Thought it fit today’s mood well.

 

Simple Sunday Stuff

  1. Went off script today. Bounced with spouse to store in early A.M. Decided thereafter, screw it, movie. Who doesn’t love Sunday Afternoon at the Movies? Streaming options came through: Palm Springs on Hulu offered an afternoon respite from the daily drone.
  2. Next four months with COVID-19, political campaigns, protests, riots, Feds abducting protesters, and POTUS insanity and lies (along with his administration’s lies, and well, most of the right wing’s offerings) will be a trial. Add to that a heat wave, and now, wildfires (the Badger Fire). My soul is getting stretched pretty thin.
  3. On the COVID lines, cases in my state and county (Oregon, Jackson) are on the rise. No worries; to save our small businesses. the local Chamber of Commerce convinced the town to close some streets and parking so al fresco dining can be expanded. I’ve not checked it out — and won’t — but observers are saying, no masks and no distancing there. Yes, businesses and officials are lip syncing the requirements but enforcement seems to amount to some brief tsk, tsk. Not reassuring.
  4. Had a follow up with my doc. Arm (xrays) looks good but remains in a sling. His wife is friends with my wife and related a brief tale. “I was with Glen when the ER doctor called. They said they had a broken arm. Glen told them they could set it. They replied, no, I’m not touching this. We’re sending you film. Glen took a look and said, I’m on my way. Glen called it quite deformed.”
  5. Six more weeks and my arm will be free again.
  6. I have my writing, though, but limited to one-handed typing. Writing with pen didn’t work as the splinted arm/hand combo failed to keep the notebook from sliding around. I also have time and coffee. Guess I’ll try to write like crazy, at least once more.

Saturday’s Theme Music

Today’s theme music, “Every Breath You Take” by the Police (1983), was an obvious and unoriginal choice. Coaxed out of the cerebral cortex by images on the TV and net of law enforcement officers watching and attacking protesters, it works on multiple levels about watchers, watching, and being watched. Besides those confrontations, we’re watching COVID-related numbers, election events, and government actions as we gyrate about the best course to kickstart the money machines and normalize life as the case numbers rise.

The Police’s stalking song feels about right on this day in 2020.

Thursday: A Few Things

  1. Still walking. Sounds like I’m bragging, right? I’m talking about exercising. My progress goes up and down. My 28-day average is just 7.51 miles (sixteen thousand plus steps), with my best being last Thursday, ten and quarter miles. I try to get in more, but stuff. I’m in a heavily hilled area. Examining results with where I walk is interesting. My flights will increase to fifty to sixty a day, and my activity level will increase, but my miles decline. That’s because the steep hills really slow me down. Coming down is less of a physical exertion, but requires a lot from my legs to keep from just pitching forward. Great views, though, and getting the exercise outside is worth it.
  2. COVID-19. We have people who shunned masking, attending rallies (see Herman Cain and Tulsa), church, and parties, who are now testing positive and being hospitalized. Some, like Cain, had underlying conditions. Cain is seventy-four, and I guess he’s okay with getting sick, possibly going through what others have endured, and dying, but what about spreading it to others, and putting them through it? Yeah, nobody say this coming.
  3. COVID-19 Redux. Other crazy reports have one, teenagers trying to deliberately contract COVID-19. Let’s play a game and see who can get infected. (Alabama Teens Are Throwing Coronavirus Parties with Cash Rewards for the First to Get Infected.) Oh, the young… Proves that life can be stranger than fiction. Beyond that, some people who are testing positive are refusing to help with tracing. (Party Guests Wouldnt Talk After 9 Tested Positive.) Hit with subpeonas and facing fines of $2000 a day for not helping, they caved. Florida setting new records for their state with ten thousand cases in one day, a one hundred sixty-eight percent rise. Of course, commentators are blaming the protests or riots, and Gov. DeSantis has vowed that Florida wills stay open. Paul Krugman has an interesting threads based on Opentable reservations for Texas, Florida, and Georgia. After reservations rose with re-opening, reservations began declining as positive cases surged. Here in Oregon, cases are rising. Gov. Brown has declared masks mandatory inside businesses, but several sheriffs have declared her policy unconstitutional and have refused to enforce it. I always thought it was up to the courts to decide constitutionally, not the sheriffs, but they know better. Even Oregon State Police aren’t even masking as they enter businessesTo quote one officer who wasn’t wearing a mask, “Fuck Kate Brown.” That’s protecting and serving for ya. Shows why trust and support for police keeps declining; they’re deciding what laws they’ll obey and enforce, and mocking what they don’t like.
  4. I’m not good at celebrating. My sixty-fourth birthday is this week. As with every year, my wife asked me what I want to do to celebrate. I don’t have an answer. Parties don’t generally entice me. Socializing in general doesn’t entice me. She knows these things about me. I feel pressured to ‘do something’ to celebrate to mollify her.
  5. Still painting walls. We have high ceilings in the dining-living-kitchen combo. Three hard to reach corners where the walls and ceiling met. I’ve bought an extender that telescopes out to twelve feet. I have an edger, brush, and roller that can be attached. Control, though, is challenging, and a bit comical, and a strain on the neck, squinting up there at the wall from twelve feet away. Refreshing the paint on them is also an interesting process.

Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

Call It Saturday

Today feels like Saturday.

So did yesterday, and the day before. I suspect that tomorrow will also feel like Saturday.

Lot of reasons exist for my feelings about the days of the week. One, I’m a writer. I write every day. I retired from outside employment a few years ago. My days of the week stopped being labeled work days and non-work days.

Two, I stream, and watch little broadcast television. I’ve been streaming for ten years, and cut the cable nine years ago. That means that I’m not looking at any guides or schedules to see what’s on television, which was always guided by the day of the week. For example, I don’t think, “If this is Thursday, then a new episode of X will be on.” I wait until all episodes are out and then I start streaming them on my schedule when they’re available. When they’re out depends on a date, not a day of the week.

Three, COVID-19, of course. The pandemic and the actions being taken to flatten the curve has dramatically affected social activities. Hence, we’re no longer going out dancing at the lake on Saturday night or heading for beer on Wednesday night, erasing another reason for tracking what day it is.

Four, it feels like Saturday because of my conditioning. Back when I did work, Saturdays were days for doing errands and chores. It was also a day for sleeping in a bit. No need to leap out of bed, do some quick exercises, eat, shower, dress, jump into the car and hurry to work on Saturday. I could catch another twenty minutes.

Everyday in COVID-19 land is like that now. There are chores and writing, but no errands. I can sleep in, if the cats agree.

The cats have never worried about the day of the week. To them, it’s always Caturday.

I get what they mean, now.

 

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