Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Blue sky. I see blue sky and sunshine. It looks so different today, Wenzda, November 19, 2025, then it did on Twozda, November 18, 2025. It’s only 40 F out under that blue sky and sunshine. Fall’s full impact has arrived as we shift toward winter. Dead leaves are browning, curling up and resting everywhere, like sayin’, done. Gonna be up to 50 F, so wear shorts.
Today’s song is one by The Wallflowers called “The Difference”. The Neurons gifted it to me because I was walking through the house and thought, something looks different. Then I stopped and puzzled through WTH looks different. Nothing came to mind but as I walked off, The Neurons began “The Difference” in the morning mental music stream.
Off I go to another medical appointment, some ultrasound for this or that, or maybe the other. One of those NPO things. I’m hungry and thirsty and keep automatically reaching for things to put into my mouth, forcing me to chastise myself, don’t eat that! Don’t drink that. Put that down! Bad boy.
I’ve been thinking about the economic bubble we’re in. This is the AI bubble. Look how much investment is attached to it. It’d driving employment, production, and growth plans. Big thing about it that I can see is that companies like Amazon are salivating over the idea of hiring less people. The GOP, especially Trump, is drooling over this. I guess they’re thinking, let’s use AI to hire less people so we can build more things that less people can afford, thereby increasing the wealth gap yet more.
Of course, others think, we’ll use AI and its predictive and analytical processes to more precisely predict weather! Except the Trump Regime cratered many of the satellites used in weather forecasting. He’s gonna turn them over to Musk’s companies. It feels like a bad idea, like it goes against that proverb, don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Seems like as robotic manufacturing and AI management grows, less people will be working and more people will need assistance for things like food, medicine, and housing. As the GOP doesn’t want to give those things, it feels like we’ll then have greater homelessness, more sickness, and higher levels of deprivation and starving. But given that the GOP is erecting the means for the wealthy to live isolated and insulated from the masses, most of them won’t know. They don’t care but not knowing will help them sleep easier, and don’t we all want the wealthy to rest easy? Isn’t that why we cut them deals on their taxes and give them freebies, hmmm?
Sorry, the inner cynic broke free of his moorings and tossed around on the cynical sea. On to other things. May peace and grace find you, if you can afford it. Way it seems to be going, only those who can afford it will know peace and grace. At least I have coffee. Thank dog Trump lowered the tariffs that he raised on it, right? Of course, that doesn’t offset all the other things driving up the costs of food and coffee, does it? But what do we know? I know; let’s build some AI so we can ask it what we need to do. Then we can ask AI what it thinks of tax cuts for the wealthy, tariffs on imported goods, using the military on your own citizens, separation of church and state, climate change, things like that. Man, it’s getting to look like a fugly future.
Wish I could sip some coffee and mutter to myself over this, grumble grumble. Have a better one. Cheers
Ghost are all around, inhabiting the land.
Offices.
Factories.
Houses.
They’re sometimes noticed.
Most are forgotten.
Except by other ghosts.
The ghosts did many things for us.
Served in the military.
Protected us.
Gave their lives.
Raised food for us. Fed us.
Kept us safe.
Wrote laws with the best intentions.
And tried to lift us up and lead us forward.
They gave us light and security.
Running water.
Safe water.
Safe homes.
Electricity.
Bridges and roads.
Books and paintings, music and rock.
Humor.
Raised us up with hands and ideas.
And now wait.
Until we’re ghosts.
And join them.
To be forgotten.
Remembered only by other ghosts.
I don’t know what age I was supposed to be in this dream. I felt younger, maybe in my early middle age. Anyway, I arrived at this cluttered, jumbled location. Busy with people, we were being asked to make choices. Like many others that I overheard and witnessed, I didn’t understand exactly what was going on. Acting on haste, I checked some small pails.
The pails were plastic and different colors, like red, blue, yellow, green. They reminded me of pails which children use in a sandbox or at the beach.
In these pails were some sort of small black squares. Each had tiny white letters and numbers but were mostly blank. Nobody seemed very sure about what they were or what we were supposed to do with them, but everyone was certain that we were supposed to take some. I wasn’t sure how many to take but grabbed eight. Then, following the flow of people doing who had also made their choices, I went along the line until we came to a long messy table, one of many. Above the table, three slender, black metal slats ran parallel to the table. Many already had multiple black squares attached to them. With observation and trial and error, I discovered the metal squares were magnetic and that we were supposed to attach them to the slats. Okay, I did that.
When I did, the black squares became alive with information. Watching, I realized that they were displaying information about the people who put them up, like, for me, as example. Each black square was giving out vital signs about different body functions, is how it first appeared. Most accepted that but I saw that some were just displaying dates, but not in the usual format. Pressing the dated squares showed me events from that day. As I did that, I began understanding that the white letters and numbers gave information about what was embedded and contained codes and patterns.
Assimilating this, I began excitedly talking about my realizations. Other people were disinterested, dismissing the squares. But I grasped that the squares’ functions were actually based on their relationship and placement with each other. Calling them indicators, I started telling people, “Don’t you see? If you can go back and find the right indicators for yourself, you can know your full history. Not only that, but it can also show the future for each of us.”
Moving the squares around showed me that I was right. Pressing back against the crowd, I tried to go back to the buckets to look for better black squares.
Dream end.
We’re now into the nineth leaf of 2025’s stay. Yes, today is Munda, September 1, 2025. Some label this, the Labor Day weekend, as summer’s end and fall’s start in the U.S. I don’t agree with that premise; summer’s weather remains. The trees aren’t dolling up in their fall colors, and so on. Summer continues despite the rise of artificially flavored pumpkin spice drinks and treats. It’s still summer here. 52 F last night, it’s now 71 F, on the way to another 92 F day under a blue sky hazy with something white. Could be smoke, might be some thin cloud layer.
So, just three more leaves remain in 2025, a leaf being a month. They will be tremendously important leaves in the United States, a confluence of rivers and trends. Lawsuits have piled up against Trump and his regime. Some of these will be resolved or head to the Roberts Court for judgement. Economists tell us that Trump’s chaotic tariff rollout will strike and it won’t be pretty. Time will tell. Trump is sending more troops into ‘blue’ cities over causes he’s created out of MAGA and QAnon myths and conspiracies. Now he’s arming them. His regime through Cosplay Barbie makes ridiculous declarations about Los Angeles ceasing to stand if Trump hadn’t sent in the guard.
Now, too, we have Trump’s health. He’s been a fleshy-looking, doughy, overweight individual with an odd gait for years. Has speaking style began slithering over words and ideas like a broken toy years ago, as well. As he, the GOP, and MAGALand lambasted President Biden for being old and frail, the portrayed Trump as super healthy and super smart. His physician declared that he thought Trump was the healthiest individual he’s ever seen, opining that it wouldn’t surprise him if Trump lives for 200 years.
Yeah, sure.
All fantasies come to an end. The wicked witch dies. So did Hitler. Stalin. Mussolini.
Today’s music is Der Neuron’s selection. They have Bruce Springsteen accompanied by the E Street Band. The song of choice is “Born in the U.S.A”. The song was released in 1984 to commercial success. For a while, it was a regular staple of rock and classic rock stations. I’ve not heard it on a radio in many leaves. I think it’s in the morning mental music stream because it focuses on spiritual bankruptcy and disillusionment. That seems like a theme sweeping the U.S.A. Disillusionment with the system, politics, name it, and you’ll probably encounter someone expressing some disillusionment.
The countdown continues to my sis-in-law’s visit. Sort of craters my heart, watching my wife. Working with low energy, dealing with pain and inflammation, she’s methodically cleaned and cleaned. I’ve helped but she’s done the lion’s share. It’s frustrating. She’s trying to live up to some standard conditioned in her to have an immaculate but charming home. But she’s paying for it with her own health and comfort. I see my mother do much the same. It’s all about appearances and impressions. Yet, my wife is coupled to me, who is sort of loosey-goosey about appearances and impressions. Yes, I’m jaded against putting up appearances to impress and amaze others. I make an effort on my wife’s behalf, however. I do it without saying anything about it, holding back my sighs, trying to support her in whatever she does. Of course, I have my own demons who ride me, and she supports me.
Oh, as an aside, the community came through with a shower chair for our hospice friend yesterday.
Alright, coffee has dug into my body once again, boosting me to new but temporary levels. May peace and grace find and shelter you as much as it can in this unfair world. Cheers
Watch the spiral
Sigh and mourn
Think about all that’s happened
Since the day you were born
Remember the places
Where you visited and stayed
The people you played with
The ones who led the way
And the music that you knew
How you sang and played along
Never quite realizing
That time would soon be gone
You lived like it was forever
Sometimes you still do
Thinking about the past and future
Wondering about what is true
Got my new computer. Ordered it online from Costco. Just a small laptop, nada fancy. Was supposed to be delivered tomorrow but made it in today. Two hours of clicking and it was set up and running, all settings, passwords, docs, etc., transferred between the old machine and the new. Typing this on the new peach.
All of that reminded me of the ancient times when new computers were received. Hard drives had to be partitioned and formatted. OS loaded, followed by programs, security, net connections, and so on. In the distant floppy days, disc after disc would be inserted to do these things. Hours would saunter by.
So, tech, you know? Progress. So much easier. Reminds me of the old stories about washing clothes told by Mom, starting cars related by Dad, using landline telephones, etc. Who knows, though? Maybe under PINO TACO, we’ll revert back to all that tedium.
After all, he has a bizarro sense of progress.
I’m curious about life after death.
I’m curious about life before life. I’m curious about how life began. I’m curious about how our planet will end.
I’m curious about why we exist, if we exist.
I’m curious about reality.
I’m curious about what my parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents were like as children. I’m curious about how my ancestors came to the United States. I’m curious about their lives before then.
I’m curious about life on Mars and other planets. I’m curious about the nature of the universe, the nature of energy, the nature of time, and quantum physics.
I’m curious about what is faster than the speed of light and if we will ever find that out.
I’m curious about what life would be like on an atom.
I’m curious about Zeno’s Paradox and other paradoxes and thought experiments.
I’m curious about how technology affects our brains and societies.
I’m curious about what life was like on Earth three thousand years ago.
I’m curious about what we’ll be like in another thousand years.
I’m curious about the dark side of the moon and the far side of the galaxy.
I’m curious about Earth’s first years.
I’m curious about the psychology of people. I’m curious about why the wealthy and powerful want or need more wealth and power. I’m curious about what causes such hatred in some people and why anger and hatred drive people to kill others. I’m curious about why others can be so indifferent to people’s suffering and children starving.
I’m curious about what it is that makes some people so brilliant.
I’m curious about why I struggle to remember scientific words.
I’m curious about charisma.
I’m curious about how the human body works, and how animal bodies work, and fish and birds and plants.
I’m curious about what rocks think and remember.
I’m curious about why we need to sleep and why we dream.
I’m curious about what my dreams mean.
I’m curious about what my cats are thinking when they look at me.
I’m curious about what my wife is thinking, feeling, planning, and remembering. I’m curious about what she really thinks of me.
I’m curious about why art, music, and literature can move me so deeply.
I’m curious about why I like coffee so much.
I’m curious about why I and others are driven to write fiction and tell stories.
I’m curious about the truth behind our world history.
I’m curious about what happened to Atlantis and other ancient places and peoples.
I’m curious about mystery spots and the illusions behind them.
I’m curious about what makes some people so wildly successful while other talented people work hard and remain in the shadows.
I’m curious about fate and destiny and the future and the past.
I’m curious about what the first people who looked up and saw stars thought.
I’m curious about why, what, how, and when.
Other than that, I remain a pretty incurious person.
An elderly woman asked for my help at the coffee shop yesterday. She’s another coffee shop regular. I’ve seen her here for several years. By observing and eavesdropping, I knew where she lived, what she drove, her previous occupation, her standard order, and her name.
She’s named Sandy. As I helped her, she said, “I was an elementary school teacher.”
I replied, “What a coincidence! I used to go to elementary school.”
She laughed.
I’m thinking of Sandy today because I’m reflecting on Mom. Mom is 89; Sandy is 82. I’ve witnessed Mom’s decline over the past decade. I’ve seen Sandy declining over the past two years. She used to have no problem walking. Always a diminutive person, she seems smaller, thinner, and weaker, and struggles to stand, sit, and walk. Terrible to see.
It affects me because I’m also seeing such a decline happening in my wife. It’s surreal because I’ve had many more medical emergencies and don’t attend to my health as my wife does. I generally bounce back from whatever I endured. Yes, my bounce is not as high these days, and it takes more bounces to get back to close to what I was. My wife, though, is slowing and weakening. She often loses her balance. Her diet and activities are becoming so limited.
All of this reminds me of how impermanent things are. This is true of products, societies, our bodies, our existence. Ground Penetrating Radar finds forgotten settlements. We come across photographs of relatives we never knew about. Genetics and genealogy can fill in blanks about who your ancestors were but it’s typically in broad terms. Names, places, occupations, mostly.
It all finally roosts in me as a reminder to not take things for granted, whether it’s success, health, family, or your government. Nothing really lasts forever. Worse, the ending can come without much warning. As in so many other matters, it’s something which I learned before, and then forgot.
I dreamed I plunged through a blue sky. Arms at my side, I wore a helmet and face plate. Bulleting thousands of feet, I made my hands into fists at the last minute, put my arms straight out in front of me, and crashed into a thickly iced sea. Breaking through the ice, I entered icy indigo water, then celebrated my success. I was meant to break through the ice and knew it could only be done from a great height.
I then awoke in my dream and remembered my ice-breaking sky dive and its outcome, and was pleased again. After that, was up and moving around. Dressed casually, today was my big day. I’d do the ice-breaking dive later that day. For now, I was just tying up loose ends. This was both my last day and my first day. I was crossing an intersection from what I’d been to what I would be.
My spirits were buoyant. Doubt kept flitting through me. Could I really do the ice-breaking dive? It seemed risky and dangerous. I reminded myself that I’d done it in a dream. Did a dream matter? No, but it had not been a dream, but a practice run. I pondered that as I went around outside, across broad green swaths, around copses of trees and small arrangements of modern buildings, often in white,, saying good-byes to others and hello to more.
I worried about some of the things I was leaving behind. These were military matters, such as readiness reports. But I told myself, that was their problem, not mine. I also didn’t think they did those things the same way that I did them. So, no, don’t worry, I told myself. Time to move on.
And that’s where the dream stopped. Or at least, my memory of it.
Michael Seidel, writer 