Tag: irritation

Wednesday’s Theme Music — You!

Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday, September 23, 2026.

66 F, we have blue skies, contrails, and the potential to hit 78 today, a fallish, warmish day.

One contrail fascinated me. Coming in from the southwest, the contrail cut east over Ashland’s airspace before turning due east for a short distance, then veered northeast. Studying the fat contrail, I wondered what air vessel caused those traces and what they were up to.

My wife and I were quietly reading the news this morning when she began railing about something. Engaged in thought, I didn’t play close attention.

Then she started up about Trump’s ballroom — the one he began building to distract us from the Epstein files, the one he said would be paid for by donors and cause taxpayers nothing. We talked about the story about the architect who quit the ballroom project because Trump, safety, and common sense. My wife was practically snarling when she quoted Trump from the story, “I am the code.”

Yes, I honestly get why that pissed her off. Trump loves claiming he knows more than anyone on topics, declaring that he’s an expert. The results say otherwise.

Your Trump Quote(s) of the Day:

My wife then went on about a pet peeve of hers, people parking in front of our house. One car has been there several weeks, which really gets her going. She says things, “I hate it when people do that.” Seems like overdramatic language to me, and unnecessary anger, but it’s a pet peeve. They’re not overly logical.

Anyway, I began chuckling to myself about her outbursts. Something in her tone caused The Neurons to play “Everything About You” in my morning mental music stream. The hard-rock Ugly Kid Joe song came out back in 1992. It’s a playful take on someone with a negative attitude expressing how much they hate things. They hate the rain and sunshine, beach and mountains, country, and city.

Sample Lyrics

I hate the rain and sunny weather
And I, I hate the beach and mountains too, boo-hoo
And I don’t like a thing about the city, no no
And I, I, I hate the countryside too

And I hate everything about you
Everything about you

And I don’t like a thing about your mother
And I, I hate your daddy’s guts too, boo-hoo
And I don’t like a thing about your sister, no no
‘Cause I, I, I think sex is overrated too

And I get sick when I’m around
I can’t stand to be around
I hate everything about you

As in played in my head, my wife said with a new spurt of anger, “I really hate Trump.” She then added, “And Mitch McConnell.”

So I think the song captures some thoughts very well. Especially when thinking about Trump.

I hope your day is filled with kindness and love, and things you like. May you live long and prosper. *smile*

Cheers

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Cars, Changes, and Control: A Dream

I drove into a Trader Joe’s parking lot to park and shop. I was driving my old white BMW 2002, a car I haven’t owned since I left Germany in 1991. It made ‘dream sense’ because I was about the age I was when I owned the car.

The parking lot’s left side was completely empty, bewildering me — why wasn’t anyone parked there? A large sign, facing the wrong way, explained not to park on the left side. Oh.

I moved my car. An older couple, dressed in fancy clothes, was there. I told them as I walked away from my car, “It would help if the sign faced the entrance, you know? Is something going on here today?”

They didn’t answer me but I heard the man saw as I walked away, “He’ll find out.” The woman tittered.

The store was busy inside. I decided to put down my cloth shopping bags for a moment and put them on a chair back by the older couple. Inside, shopping, I decided that I would buy a few things and picked up a frozen dessert that attracted my eye. As I thought about buying a few more things, I remembered that I’d left my shopping bags on that chair and rushed back to get them.

The bags were gone. I searched all over, but they were definitely gone. Morose, I returned inside to buy the frozen dessert.

Going back, my car was parked elsewhere but I knew where. It was also not my white BMW, but my wife’s gray Ford Focus. I went to the car’s right side to get in. Then I stepped back out and looked again where it was parked. The car to the left was so close, that door — which should be the driver’s side door — couldn’t be opened. I thought, it’s a good thing that I don’t drive on that side. Yet, I knew, with some confused reflection, driving is done from the car’s left side, not the right.

I was driving at the point and discovered a passenger, a pregnant young woman reading a book. First, I noticed that the book had my name on the front, but, startled by her presence, I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you there.”

She replied, “I’m Gail. My daughter was with you when you were driving an SUV in a foreign land, a wild country. She wanted to visit you because she’s worried.”

Driving, I wondered and asked, “Is your daughter born yet?”

Gail answered, “No, but she’s due.”

I then turned left. The road ended and I was suddenly driving through a woods heavy with water puddles and thick, black mud. Gail said, “I want to get out here.”

“No,” I replied. “I don’t know what happened to the road but I’m turning around. I’ll take you back and let you out.”

I whipped the car around and was back on the road in a few seconds. Gail got out. I opened the hatchback to put a bicycle in because I knew it was mine. Then I wondered, why is my bike here?

Dream end.

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Frida’s Theme Music

Frida, June 13th, 2025, breached with cold air and muzzled sunshine. 59 F, we’re pacing ourselves to climb to 74 F. It’s a chill day. Feels good out there.

Another night of dreams. They covered feeling lost and frustrated, ignored, and change that confused me. Awakened, I felt heavy with loss and disappointment, struggling to find direction and traction, like I’m spinning my wheels to stay in place.

We saw more Trump Justice Two Step last night. Judge said, “Illegal to put them National Guard into LA, Donald,” and another court said, “Keep doing it while we talk about this.” I laughed when Trump’s lawyers argued that California should not “second-guess the President’s judgment that federal reinforcements were necessary” and that a federal court should defer to the president’s discretion on military matters. Oh, they can rouse themselves to such pompous righteous indignation. Trump loves to say he’s leaving things up to the states. ‘I’m gonna wean them off FEMA.’ “The people on the ground know what’s going on and can take care of it best,” he said before.

But he’s fast to ignore the state’s rights and decisions when it doesn’t suit him and barge right in wherever the fuck he wants. The principle behind his moves are always, “Me Donald, you I hate.” In this case, he hates Gov. Newsom and California because he lost California. Didn’t get within sniffing distance of winning it.

TACO is very predictable in his lawless ways. “You spit, we hit!” But that wasn’t the case with the J6 insurrectionists. Yeah, they were attacking the nation, doing a lot more damage phsically and judicially, as the J6 gang attacked the police. No, that had TACO saying, “Me Donald, me love you,” because they were doing it for him. He’s sickening, and the GOP is sickening and shameful for going along with his twisted hyperbole. They won’t be happy until they burn the nation down and then they’ll blink their eyes wide and say, “Gosh, what happened?” Just as they did with multiple previous fiascos. See the Gulf Wars as a big fucking example. My contempt for them has surged out past Starlink.

I’m also having a good laugh at MAGAts. They’re trying to excuse the DC parade as planned BT: Before Trump. One MAGAt declared that President Obama became planning it, lazily conflating celebrating the Army’s 250 year anniversary with the bloated military display scheduled for this weekend. That’s the MAGAts, always bending over for TACO to screw them.

I have “Creep” by Radiohead in the morning mental music stream. Just that sort of morning. Here, little TACO. This is for you.

Pressing on with coffee to go get things done. Let’s be safe out there. Cheers

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The Factory Dream

I was a young man, possibly in my early twenties. Some other fellows were with me at a factory. I’m not sure how many were present. There were at least three, but maybe five, not including our overseer. I never took a head count.

We were in a factory doing a special job. No details of that job are available. It was cold but sunny weather. The factor was a plain, spare building with a whitewashed apparance that presented an air that it was on the verge of being abandoned or falling apart. Corrugated metal construction. Gaps in the walls. Bare, cracked cement floor. Signs that it’d be used for something else before and was now on a fifth or sixth life.

Under an uneven combination of weak overhead lights and sporadic, fading sunlight eking in through large, filthy windows, we worked around a long, dirty conveyor belt putting things together. As part of this, each of us were given some small black devices which seemed to be some sort of governor and also a CPU that told the system what to do. To install mine, I had to climb up a tall metal shaft and slip it into a slot just so. Some jiggling followd and then the conveyor belt sprang into noisy activity.

I don’t know what we were making but we shut everything back down and gathered again. The overseer, an oversized white guy in his mid-forties or early fifties, receding brown hairline and white short sleeve shirt with a tie, told us that we had one more run and then we could go home. But the other run was at another factory, about a mile away.

I had a car, a dark brown 1970s era Chevy Malibu. Sort of a ratty vehicle. I asked another for a ride to the other factory. Once we got there, I realized that I would need to return to the previous factory. We’d been sleeping in some little locker room there on cots. I’d left my clothes and gear there, not to mention my car, and would need a ride back.

This seemed to irritate the other guy, a big, good-looking guy with short, curly hair. He turned surly, and then shunned me during the rest of the session and wouldn’t speak to me. I was taken back by the change and wanted to talk to him about it.

The regular factory workers arrived. They all seemed to be foreigners to go by their dress, appearance, and language. They watched me as I climbed up to install my governor, laughing and joking about it. I gathered they had some other way of doing that and my method seemed strange to them. I tried explaining, “This is what I learned,” and asked for information about the other way. They wouldn’t address my questions.

That’s where the dream ended.

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Winceday’s Wandering Thoughts

Things which are always reassuring to see when you’re walking along Ashlandia’s streets:

A FedEx truck running a stop sign with a blast of noise as you approach the corner. A pick up truck and SUV traveling in opposite directions, each driver with their cell plastered to their skull. Another driver wheeling it with one hand while shoving food into her gob as she comes up, braking hard and late as you stand in the crosswalk, waiting for her to notice. A large Acura MDX running a red light and aggressively coming around the corner, going around you as you walk through a cross walk.

Ah, yes, so very reassuring.

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thought

Twenty-nine minutes.

It doesn’t seem like much time.

It was how long he waited for Microsoft to update.

MS updates always seem invasive. Waiting for it to do its thing is the norm. This is helpful, he reminded himself. New features. Updated security. Bugs fixed.

But he was on a writing schedule. This was twenty-nine minutes of not writing, of sitting and stewing, impatience and irritation growing, while the computer did its thing. Icons didn’t appear on the taskbar. No notice was given about how much longer was required or what was going on. All he could do is sip coffee, tap a finger, and wait.

Eventually, it finished. When the browser finally opened after twenty-nine minutes of waiting, it displayed a message.

He wasn’t impressed. MS had to make up a twenty-nine minute deficit before their updates would start saving time.

Rant over. Back to the normally scheduled program.

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Sat-er-day’s Wandering Thought

He wondered if it was ‘just him’. He didn’t really become annoyed, but it was a minor irritation when another person insisted that he make a call on the household’s behalf and then hovered nearby, eavesdropping, inserting themselves into the conversation by throwing out comments even though they have no idea what’s being said on the other end, throwing the conversation’s rhythm off. If they wanted to talk, why’d they give him the phone and asked him to call?

Yes, it was probably just him who found this rude and intrusive. It often was ‘just him’.

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The Blackberry Dream

Blackberries. Love to eat them. They add sweet juiciness to everything. But they’re invasive. Will take over. And highly flammable. These traits make them threats to urban areas.

We soldier against a blackberry plant. Never with pesticides. Cut it back. Dig it up. Last night, they returned, in my dreams.

I was outside our house. The dream house wasn’t like our real house. The dream house had walls with garden beds all around the house, up against the foundation. I liked the arrangement and was walking through, admiring it, when I discovered blackberry bushes growing in it. Wasn’t the ordinary blackberry growth, though, no. These blackberry branches were several inches thick. They were pushing out the cut end and had not leaves, stems, branches, or berries. They had large thorns, though.

I was appalled by what I saw and headed back inside to talk with my wife and make plans. To return inside the house required me to pass through a cafeteria-style cafe. Make sense? No, but this is dream land. A young woman with her infant was sitting down at a table with three friend. She was complaining about the blackberry bushes’ sudden appearance at her house. I stopped to commiserate and flirt. Yes, I flirted with blackberry bush invasions as my baseline, trying to launch off that to impress her with my charm, knowledge, and wit. Such a dream flirt, I am. It fell completely flat.

I hurried on to my wife. When I arrived in our home, she greeted me with her discovery of the blackberry bushes. Demands of how did this happen and what are we going to do followed. I explained that I’d just learned of it. She cut me off to tell me about the unusual growth. Yeah, I know, I basically responded.

Meanwhile, two young nephews were eating at the table. They had blackberry bushes and were joking about the growths and laughing. I tried explaining our concerns about them but they paid no attention.

Dream end.

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A Short Car Dream

Don’t quite know what to make of this dream. This dream was all close first-person POV. A friend was with me but I never saw them, just heard them laugh or swear. I don’t know who it was. I’d purchased a new car, a unique, exotic collectible of sorts. (I never did clearly see the car in the dream). I’d acquired it at a large outdoor option. After purchasing it, I was inside, driving it, following a similar car. The car ahead came to a stop sign. Like me, it was turning left, according to its flashing signal. Nothing was coming, but it didn’t proceed. Impatience growing, I beeped to get them to move. The driver flashed me the finger, but then drove. I pulled up to the sign. As I stopped, a second hot rod pulled up alongside me on my right, then ran the stop sign and turned left in front of me, highly pissing me.

I turned left, drove a short way, and pulled in to park in a designated slot. I saw the first driver and their parked car but didn’t comment or take action. Throngs of people were moving in both directions. After parking my car, I picked it up and started carrying it under my arm. As I did, I saw a young woman coming toward me. She had a strap around her shoulders which was attached to her car, which was hanging on her back. I said, “That’s what I need to get. I can carry my car with me and leave my hands free. I won’t even need to park. I’ll just take my car with me wherever I go.”

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