Tag: fiction

Fridaz Theme Music

Oppressive humidity is doing in the morning. Not overly high humidity in the general sense. We’re just not used to humidity here.

It’s Frida, September 5, 2025. Temperature is 72 F but it feels warmer and less comfortable due to the humidity. We’ll peak in the low 90s today, unlike yesterday, when we clashed with 97 F.

My sister-in-law and her boyfriend arrived. Although they came in from Florida, they weren’t prepared for the heat. They’d been on the coast, then went inland to see the redwoods, and talked about the 30-degree temperature change they experienced in a short time and distance. The boyfriend, a year or two my senior, then asked as we walked around, “Can we go to somewhere with air-conditioning and sit down for a pint?” He’s an amiable individual. An engineer, we discovered that he and I grew up in Pittsburgh suburbs about four miles of each other. We’re both Steeler football fans. Besides three pints, he drank a tumbler of scotch during the space of dinner and the next two hours.

They’re sleeping in this morning after doing a lot of driving and traveling over the past three days. Once they call, we’ll take them somewhere local for food and then do local sightseeing.

I saw the jobs report this morning. Funny that firing the BLS person responsible for the last dismal jobs report didn’t change the dismal numbers. Just 22,000 jobs added. Oh, my. Not looking good for Trump’s economy. These hard numbers are backing up the anecdotes we’re hearing about business chains closing locations, small and medium businesses shuttering their doors, layoffs being announced. Lots of FAFO stories emerging. Of course, that could be the news services which I frequent catering to my interests and attitudes, at least to some degree. I try vesting such info as best as I can but that’s a challenge in this digital era.

Today’s music arrived from a confluence of events. One, Papi and I were out last night. I first was checking the moon, then looking for spaceships. Papi accompanied me. I’m not sure what he was checking out. Then, I dreamed that I was cooking. The meal was coming out looking good and smelled good. It was being done in this strange little apartment. But as I was cooking, several Russians stopped by. They were mostly talking to my wife but also addressing questions to me. This annoyed and distracted me.

The net of this, as I recalled last night and the dream, is that The Neurons rose up with a Jackson Browne song called “Lawyers in Love”. A satirical song about U.S. politics, consumerism, and U.S. pop culture, its lyrics feature both Russians and spaceships. I enjoy the song, but many friends thought it odd when it came out. Of course, that’s precisely why I enjoyed it.

I can’t keep up with what’s been going on
I think my heart must just be slowing down
Among the human beings in their designer jeans
Am I the only one who hears the screams
And the strangled cries of lawyers in love

God sends his spaceships to America, the beautiful
They land at six o’clock and there we are, the dutiful
Eating from TV trays, tuned in to Happy Days
Waiting for World War III while Jesus slaves
To the mating calls of lawyers in love

Last night I watched the news from Washington, the capitol
The Russians escaped while we weren’t watching them, like Russians will
Now we’ve got all this room, we’ve even got the moon
And I hear the U.S.S.R. will be open soon
As vacation land for lawyers in love

I find it humorous and love the musical flourishes which reflect different eras of pop music.

Time to rock and roll another day away. Hope that grace and peace finds and guides you. Have the best Frida possible. Cheers

1

Choices

Maurice was the new man. Looked like his birth gender might have been different. Or maybe he was just a beautiful man with some exquisite feminine elements. Either way stirred me into intrigue.

He glided us through the identification protocols. I played nice. The others punish you if you don’t play nice. Outside of this establishment, they’ll pound you until death gives you a smile unless you play nice. Death and I played tonguesies a few times before that lesson found a way through my paywall.

Now to business, Maurice orchestrated a beautiful smile my way. Wonder if all those beaming white chicklets were real and natural. Such aquamarine eyes, too. Wars nicely with the glass-smooth mocha skin. Ah, to be wrinkle free. Like that matters to such as me.

“You have two outstanding attributes which might be available to you, Mickey,” Maurice purred. My mind surfed a mental register of attributes and awaited further info. “Invisibility and timetravel are both possible for you, but only one or the other.”

My mind jumped, flipped, and twirled like Simone Biles. Invisibility is the second-least attribute found in people. Time travel is queen of the rarest. No wonder pretty Maurice was here chatting me up. “Wow,” I said like a hayseed blown in on the wind. “I’d like being them.”

A professionally contrite expression landed on Maurice’s beauty. “I’m afraid that you can only be one or the other.”

“Oh.” I poured sadness into my gaze. “That’s a bummer. I thought it’d be so great to be an invisible timetraveller. Just think of the fun.”

“Yes, the opportunities which present do boggle the mind.”

LOL. Only salespeople talk like that.

Maurice ran me the drawbacks and bennies the program provides with those attributes. I made noises and expressions like I paid extreme attention and contained excited interest. I knew from farm skuttle that every attribute has drawbacks. As Maurice delicately phrased it, “Time travel unfortunately damages the cerebral cortex, amygdala, and hippocampi. Being invisible shreds muscle mass and does nerve damage.” He went on with greater clinical details without graphic explanation about how long it generally takes to do these things to people with those attributes.

My mind had already harvested those details and was racing through previously exercised pros and cons in the two choices, searching for the answer, which attribute will be the Amazon Prime delivering my freedom? My shackled co-inhabitants in the farm all punched in with seasoned reasoning about the attributes and freedom. We did it with all the attributes. Nightly ritual. No matter, as Daisychain always said as the bottom line, “You might think you’ll get out, but they will bring you back.”

Someone always put in the addendum, “Or kill you.”

We always laughed with deathly glee. Like being killed was terrible.

Yes, we were ignorant about how terrible things could be in the Farm. We didn’t know that they protected us from knowing.

So, like others, thinking myself more cunning than our masters, I answered Maurice’s ultimate query with suitably guarded hope, kidding myself that they didn’t see right through it.

“I’ll go for timetravel.”

Because I didn’t know that, yes, there are people who can both timetravel and be invisible.

They were the ones who began the program.

I was soon to meet them.

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The Writing Moment

I brought a few books with me to read on vacation. One was recommended by my wife. She picked the recommendation up from Ann Patchett via Ann’s regular video post, New to You. My wife heard what Ann Patchett said about reading while writing a novel, and then what she said about this book, and told me, “I think you want to read this book.”

The book is a memoir, Running in the Family, by Michael Ondaatje. Ann says something like, “It’s beautifully written and writers will love it.” I picked it up to begin reading today. Tucking it under my arm, a glass of wine in my other hand, I climbed the spiral staircase to the third-floor loft. Out on the balcony where the sunshine sparked with Pacific blue, I sat down and began to read.

After a few pages, I knew that I could not read it now. The book was an immediate serum inducing me, go write. But my writing needs separation from friends. Space to let the writing neurons take over. And I get cranky when I’m interrupted while writing. I talked to my wife and friends about the book and put it away, to be read when I get home. This is a library copy. I think I might need to buy my own copy.

And then I’ll write like crazy, at least one more time.

4

Mundaz Theme Music

Stealthy clouds crowd the sky over Ashlandia, dropping high and low temperatures by ten degrees plus. After an overnight low of 61 F, today’s high is expected to be just 78 F today. Air quality is good at 22, although wildfire smoke smells linger like a memory of a flirtatious kiss. This is Munda, July 21, 2025.

We had an active shooter incident the other day on I5 just outside of Ashland. The shooter was on an overpass and the Interstate was shut down for a few hours. A man was eventually arrested. No injuries were reported. We don’t know about his motivations yet.

Just finished reading The King of Ashes by S.A. Cosby. Terrific page turner with marvelous and fresh, inventive writing, tight plotting, and strong characters. On to The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley. My wife just finished it. I’ve been eyeing it and she recommended it to me.

My morning reading included several Trump-voter FAFO tales. One, by Red Painter via Crooks & Liars, was about Arkansas farmers filing for Chapter 12 bankruptcy. Painter writes, “Only 45 farms filed in the entirety of 2024, which seems about average. Well, 2025 has been exponentially worse for farmers – a shocking 88 had filed for bankrupcy by the end of Q1 2025!” Arkansas Senator John Boozman blames previous POTUS Biden, of course; that’s the GOP playbook answer, blame Democrats, avoid voters, or pretend it’s not happening. But never, never take responsibility for bad news.

The other FAFO tale was out of Nevada. Broadacres Market closed down in June after the national wave of prominent ICE raids where brown people were snatched up by masked individuals. A large open-market venue that serves about 15,000 people every weekend, Broadacres Marketplace vendors particularly cater to the Latino population. They don’t know when they’ll reopen. Read full story here.

“We don’t want any of our customers, vendors, or employees to be detained at our business or for us to be a beacon of shopping and entertainment while our federal government is raiding businesses and detaining its people,” the Broadacres Marketplace Management team wrote on social media. Read full story here.

Like Arkansas, Nevada went for Trump, partly supported by an increase in Latino support. Said one Latino voter back in 2024 after Trump’s victory: “Initially, I will say I did not agree with him,” said Mario Jr., 29. “Then I started seeing that he was not afraid to speak his mind and I noticed that he was not scared to say what he felt, regardless of what people would say. I think I respect that about him.” No word on what he thinks now. Read full story here.

Meanwhile, Trump, still operating that he’s under the King of All, is trying to force the Washington Commanders, NFL team, to revive the racial slur they’d previously used. Naturally, the bully’s tool of choice is to withhold funding for the team’s new D.C. stadium.

After that and other reading, The Neurons seeded “The King of Wishful Thinking” in the morning mental music stream. This is a 1990 song from Go West. Heard it a bunch on radio during the last century’s last decade. It’s an easy sing along. I think news about Epstein, Trump, and the MAGAts being upset about Epstein file’s handling by the Trump Regime inspired The Neurons with this song choice.

Got my coffee running its route through my systems. Hope this Munda and the week it commences finds you in good spirits and good health, and that you have the best week you can. Cheers

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