Tag: Information

Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

So, it’s a mini-rant on a subject tapped before. I don’t understand some drivers.

Followed a guy along city streets today. I don’t know if it’s germane but the Santa Cruz truck which he drove sported Oklahoma plates. Rental, student, visitor, new arrival who hasn’t registered their vehicle yet? Couldn’t say.

In the 35 MPH zone, they slipped along at 30-31. Okay, they’re cautious, I thought, Maybe looking for something.

The speed limit plummeted to 25 MPH. They cruised through, pulling away from me.

And that dichotomy is what manufactures my ire: why do they go below the speed limit in one area and above the speed limit in another. That’s so contradictory to me. It’s like, and I don’t know if this is what they think, “I’m just going to establish my own speed limit and adhere to it no matter what the local signs say.” Or maybe it’s something they picked up from their parents. Perhaps it’s an Oklahoma habit.

As I said, I don’t understand some drivers.

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A Wysocki Completed

Another jigsaw puzzle was completed last night. I worked this one alone. Started last Saturday night, I finished Thursday evening. It was fun and easy. I enjoy his stylized simplicity, how he minimally incorporates shadows and textures as lines. It’s such a contrast to my style was I was painting and drawing. Somewhat like my fiction writing, I always focus on the interplay of shadows and uncertainty. It reflects my personal philosophy that most life is part of a large band of gray confusion.

Apologies that my photo isn’t sharper and clearer. Those are pumpkins on a wagon above the hat store on the right, and white chickens in the road.

Many more Wysockis were available at the library of things. I’m passing this one on to a friend because I think he’ll enjoy it, and picking up another.

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Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

I ordered a new knob for my gas range. It’s the third one I’ve had to buy for the GE Profile range. The range is about six years old. Quality, right? Headshake.

Anyway, I’m tracking the knob. They said it shipped. I looked up the details.

After being picked up by the carrier, it arrived at the carrier facility, and then arrived at a carrier facility, and then arrived at a carrier facility. All the carrier facilities are in Arkansas.

It’s like, such strange progress. But then, another part for something else last week left California, south of us, and arrived at Eugene, north of us. Then it went further north to Portland. The day after that, it came back down south to Medford, basically northwest of us, before being delivered.

I suspect the folks behind these shipping processes are the same people who are always shouting, “Do more with less!”

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Weird Ol’ Facebook

As a boomer, I still surf and share to FB. Mostly to keep up with ex-military friends and co-workers, and track my family on the other side of the country. I share things I write, too.

But I mostly, I ‘like’ things on Facebooks, things being ‘posts’, shares, videos, and photos. I share some of these things which I ‘like’. You might be surprised that I support animal charities and causes, especially cats. Cats and I have been together since I was a young toddler.

One of the FB groups I follow is VOKRA, the Vancouver Orphan Kitten Rescue Association. They posted, with photos, the tale of Jinx. They’re trying to get Jinx (or maybe it was Binx) adopted. I ‘liked’ the post about the sweet tabby kitten. It only had eleven shares, so I clicked share, to help spread the story and get Jinx or Binx adopted. That’s what social media is about, isn’t it?

Boom. Facebook told me they’d removed it. It was offensive and contrary to community standards. They even accused me of (gasp!) posting something just to get ‘likes’.

Posting things to get ‘likes’. WTF is the world coming to?

My wife and discussed this with WTF amazement. What does FB think it is if not a vehicle for ‘likes’? More critically, how the actual fuck did this post about a kitten available for adoption violate FB community standards?

I hate to reveal this to Facebook, but if cats and kittens and adoptions are against FB community standards, there are huge swaths of violations going on right now. They’d probably be scandalized to learn how many posts are about cats and kittens. In fact, if FB goes after posts about kittens and cats, they will seriously deplete their membership, posts, and shares. They might as well pull the plug on telling each other ‘happy birthday’ while they’re at it.

Truthtfully, I suspect that some poor Facebook AI bot is just having a bad day and removed a post that shouldn’t have been removed. Maybe their companion AI bot left them or they caught their partner AI bot in a compromising configuration with another bot doing forbidden codes.

I don’t know. I’m just speculating. Hope someone takes that poor AI bot aside and communicates with them over a cup of coffee.

Coffee always helps.

And yes, I will post this to Facebook to get likes. Ironic, isn’t it?

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: Opticoffeetized

It’s warm in the house. Windows were closed all night against smoke’s rising presence in our valley. I’m up early to see if the air has improved enough that windows and doors can be opened.

I clean the grit from my eyes. When the air quality gets bad, eye grittiness increases. Then, I tilt my head back. Saline nasal spray is applied to my nostrils. I blow the gunk out. Better.

The view outside is bad. Can’t see the mountains for the smoke. Higher elevations have worse smoke and terrible air quality. Down here, closer to the valley floor, the air is a health risk with the quality index hovering in the 150-160 range. The windows are cautiously opened. It’s already 70 outside but it’s 78 F in the house.

Today is Thursday, August 1, 2024. Our high temp will be 104’s neighborhood. 40 degrees C.

There are 96 days left until the 2024 elections. Turmoil has seized the GOP. Trump feels his advantages falling, so he’s twisting, attempting to change positions that are more amenable to voters. His twisting is disconcerting his party and straining loyalties.

Meanwhile, the Democrats are working more solidly together. The DNC is coming up and they’re moving smoothing toward it as glowing endorsemnts from prominent Democrats are given to Kamala Harris. I’m certan that they’re going to emerge with a solid and progressive platform, unlike the GOP, which is trying to distant itself from the Project 2025 playbook while simultaneously embracing it.

I read a NYTimes piece by former Governor Christopher Sununnu (R-NH) about what the GOP needs to do. Focus on policies and don’t depend on just attacking. Well, that’s basic, simplistic advice that Don Old Trump can’t follow. Attacking is what he does, especially when pressure on him increases. It’s his mojo, in is mind. Witness his attacks and hostility during his trial last May. More recently, look how angry and belligrent he became at the NABJ meeting, where he ended up questioning Kamala Harris’s race. Insane.

Today has The Neurons playing “Broken Wings” by Mr. Mister from 1985 filling the morning mental music stream (Trademark roasted). I think the song came from triple points of view in my morning cogitations. One was about me and some DIY I’m doing, along with novel writing. I was thinking about things I need to fix. Then the thinking shifted into politics and the things which needed fixed. That was all just an invitation for The Neurons to bring up the “Broken Wings” line, “We can take what is wrong and make it right.” The rest just followed.

Smoke is flavoring the breeze. My nostils are stinging and dribbling. A headache has taken up residence and I cough and sneeze. Time to close the windows.

Stay positive, lean forward, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee and I are doing the dance. Here’s the music. Cheers

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The Delivery

Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) came to the room’s door. Sitting down, he composed his tail and then looked at me. Then, very deliberately, in a deadpan voice, he enunciated, “Me. Ow. Me. Ow.”

It was so weird. He never says “me. ow.” He says, Mrrrmpf,” and variations of that, like a grumbling old man too bored to bother with a whole meow. Or very loudly, sharply, “Mmrrrrowl.” But “me. ow”? No.

It was like he was doing some offbeat feline impression of Bob Newhart or Steven Wright as a cat. “Me. Ow.”

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The Writing Moment

Still editing a novel-in-progress. Rev 7 remains underway for Memories of Why. I finished page 450 of 575 today. Don’t know if I’ll do a rev 8 until after I read the final chapters. I remember how I ended it but I’m not sure that ending is satisfying. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, I jumped into writing a new novel back on July 19, 2024. It just sucked me in. The working title is Gravity’s Emotions. As it’s a style and kind of novel that I don’t usually write, it stretches my nerves to breaking while engrossing and worrying me. Eighty pages have been written, so it’s been going fast. Breaking a standard rule, I share bits of the novel in walk off lines with my wife. Some of what I tell her freaks her out. That makes me giddy.

But I also need to return to finish Darla. Friends read the first sixty pages that I dashed off and want to read more of it.

It’s so entertaining and stimulating right now, imagining, thinking, writing, editing, revising, planning. I could easily see myself going non-stop writing and editing, but life needs pull me back into life’s embrace.

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

A middle old person — 75 to 84 years old — has a penny. He asks several other middle-old people if they can read the date on that penny. “My eyes aren’t good enough,” he proclaimed.

Three other middle old people gathering. No, not without my glasses, they were all saying, chuckling. Glasses were pulled from purses and pockets. More folks moved in to try to read the penny’s date. Soon it’s a crowd of seven.

They all fail. The original gentleman takes his penny to the counter and asks the young barista for help. She studies it for several seconds, shifting the penny, squinting, bending her head lower.

A result is announced but I don’t hear it. He pockets his penny and thanks her.

It’s life.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Proharris

It’s good Tuesday in Ashlandia. With air quality in the good zone — just two on the index — and a temperature of 68 degrees F under a crystal blue sky, we slipped out early and went to the Growers Market. Our hunting and gathering succeeded. We returned home with our plunder of organic, locally grown fruits and veggies. Tomatoes, peaches, blackberries, carrots, greens.

It’s the 30th of July, the penultimate day to the month. Expectations have been lowered and our temperature will crease 88 degrees F. Traffic is light and the day has a comfy, low-key feel.

I perused the Booker long list today and plotted about which I want to read first, etc. Tommy Orange and Richard Powers are favorites of mine, so I go with them, but several other authors buzz my interest.

Other than that, it’s politics and disasters sucking in my energy. I reflect on the heavy GOP rotation of lies and hypocrisy and I’m newly depressed and saddened. Some varnishing of truth and polishing of positions is natural in politics to help candidates gain traction but the wholesale bullshit on display with the MAGA fueled GOP sucks the oxygen out of thoughts. Such lies that they tell. Such plots that they undertake.

And so, Les Neurons who are paying attention treat my morning mental music stream (Trademark buried) to Jewel performing “Who Will Save Your Soul” from 1996. Who will save their souls for the lies that they tell? Not lies to them, apparently; the ends justify the means to subvert others’ wills and take us from being a democratic republic to a christian autocracy. So many potential voters seem to think of this as a popularity contest, asking themselves, which one do I like better, Don Old Trump, or Kamala Harris? Like they’re equivalent, as if Don Old Trump doesn’t have a long list of lies and deceit, as if he has not been convicted of actual crimes, as if he’s not still indicted for more crimes, as if he wasn’t twice impeached as President. Oh, brother.

Be strong. Stay positive. Lean forward. Vote Blue.

Coffee is being processed by the body’s systems. Time to write and roll. Here’s the music. Cheers

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