Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Confloofdant (floofinition) – An animal to whom others entrust secrets. Origins: 1646 Middle Floofish
In Use: “The man was a paid killer but the only one who knew this was his cat, Stormy. The little black cat had been saved from the side of the road during a storm. He’d rescued the feline after killing an abusive husband for a woman in need. And that same night was when Stormy became Wilson’s confloofdant.” Excerpt from the novel, Confloofdant: The Cat Who Knew Too Much.
Saw the NYTimes Connections today – April Fools Day – and laughed by butt off when the emojis showed up. Well, didn’t literally laugh my butt off, of course. That would be absurd.
Fun Connections, too easily solved, though.
Melfloofmene (floofinition) – One of nine Floouses who acts as a patron of arts, music, and creativity. Origins: Floofo-Roman floofthology, circa 8th century Common Floof (CF).
In Use: “When she began writing her novel, Sherman, her big dog, acted like Melfloofmene, going on long walks with her to think through her plot and characters, remaining by her side in her small home office as she wrote and edited, and forcing her to take breaks to feed him.”
I attended an Easter brunch at a friend’s house on Sunday. Great food, great friends, weather that skirmished between chilly and cloudy to hot and sunny.
At one point, I asked fellow attendees if any had made any Easter resolutions. No one had.
Looks like another tradition is fading away.
Mood: Sunsational
It’s the next to last day of March. Day before Easter. Saturday, March 30, 2024.
We’ve got sunshine snaking around gray masses of condensed water vapor drifting across the blue-wave sky. Temperature is 50 F and some rain is anticipated, with a high of 56 F in the forecast. March winds are blowing.
There is so much news to digest and think about. Writing about multiple events is possible but I won’t, today, sparing you all. As writer Amanda Marcotte wrote in a Salon article, many ideas and stories surrounding Trump and the MAGA GOP can be labeled, “Shocking, not surprising.”
I’d rather stay away from that and focus on my fiction writing. Part of that is because I’m in an enjoyable phase, rev 6 of one of the works in progress. A second part is that I’m weary of the often-exasperating news, like the MAGA GOP kneejerk response to the demolished Maryland bridge. Then there’s a third factor, that due to Sunday brunch with friends tomorrow, I’ll probably not be writing tomorrow. So I’m trying to get ahead.
I will say — because I have little impulse control, I suppose — that the video of the Dari cargo ship striking the Francis Scott Key bridge and the bridge’s collapse is stunning.
Music for today comes from 1975. I can’t parse why The Neurons plugged it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark sinking). That’s the way of The Neurons. (Is that a novel title? The Way of the Neurons.)
My Neurons like hijacking my brain (which might be called brainjacking, I guess), and the body follows. Like, I’ll go into the kitchen to get a glass of water and suddenly I’m eating cookies, no explanations given. It’s like my Neurons have me hypnotized.
Anyway, today’s theme music is brought to us by the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. “Jackie Blue” was soft country rock song released in 1975, a year after I graduated high school. I was in the U.S. Air Force then and heard it regularly on my car’s AM radio. 1975 was the year of my first duty assignment, Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Ohio, and the year I was married. That was my first wedding, and remains my only wedding, and the marriage still endures. “Jackie Blue” and being at WPAFB and getting married seems fused in my head. So when I heard the song today in the MMMS, I remembered young me as I took on adulting.
Stay positive, be stalwart, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee has already been swallowed in significant quantities, so let’s listen to the music. Cheers
Floofyophile (floofinition) – An animal lover. Origins: Floofish, 1820s, in France.
“In use: “Born into a family of floofyophiles, it was no surprise that Riley became a floofyophile at a young age, but her industry to save animals by the time she was ten years old was newsworthy.”
We returned from the vet office yesterday. Tucker was released from his carrier. He trotted free and then turned back. At the carrier again, he insistently sniffed its door. A few steps away were taken and then he sat down and commenced a serious washing session.
Papi approached. Tucker paused his washing. The two cats tentatively touched noses, Papi’s pink on Tucker’s black.
Floof note: these two felines never touch noses.
Papi seemed to be verifying, you went to that place? And Tucker seemed to be replying, too right.
My sympathy, Papi answered, moving backward. He wandered toward the kibble bowls.
Tucker resumed cleaning.
I used to be on Twitter. Left it when the infantile X man took over. Others convinced me to return.
I get new followers every day. Most are women. They put up photos of attractive women. They usually have hundreds to thousands of followers.
And they have zero to few posts.
I don’t follow them back. I think they’re bots. Lures for something going on, maybe.
A few reached out to me via X’s messaging system after they follow me. Their missives typically include, “Nice to get in touch with you. I see that you are also paying attention to some political matters. What do you think of the current political situation?” They almost always use similar words.
My response is to not answer.
Yeah, there’s nothing going on here.
Confloofdiction (floofinition) An expectation and counter-expectation about what an animal will do, which are simultaneously correct and wrong. Origins: Anglo-Floof and Latin, first noted use in 14th century.
In Use: “Feline confloofdictions such as biting the hand which feeds them and then cuddling with the person they bit is one large reasons cats seem like floofnigmas.”
I so love it when I go on a net page in Chrome to read something. Google covers part of it with ads. I can ask that they close the ad, and do.. They want feedback when I do that. Four options are included. None allow me to tell them, “YOUR AD IS BLOCKING THE FUCKING PAGE’S CONTENTS WHICH I WANT TO READ.”
No, that’s not an option. Guess that’s the price of technology.
Michael Seidel, writer 