Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
September is dashing through the weekdaz. We’ve already punched through to Satyrda, September 6, 2025. It wasn’t hot. Rain fell. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed. Hail slammed us. Yes, it was an Oregon road trip.
Here is “On the Road Again”. Canned Heat. At Woodstock.
Hope your day was well, my fellow earth dwellers, and peace and grace found and kept you. Cheers
Lawdy, it was the skunkpocalypse last night. I don’t know what was going on but skunk stink bowled through the house like a Budweiser King Pin tournament at 4 AM. After shutting the only windows open and activating the air filter, I consulted an oracle. “Is this a bad omen for August?” I asked. “I can’t work in these conditions,” the oracle answered, tears streaming down their cheeks. I took that as a yes. At the least, it seems like a ‘maybe’.
Yeah, that’s how Frida, August 1, 2025 rolled in on us. But could’ve been worse, judging from all that goes on in the world. Especially in the era of MAGALand. I mean, I could have been shot and killed from police exercising a no-knock warrant at the wrong address. ICE could’ve pounced on me when I opened the door for fresh air and stolen my ID or disappeared me. Earthquakes, wildfires, tsunamis, flash-flooding, and tornados are all real threats at this time. So a heavy skunk attack is mild.
Today, it’s 72 F. Gonna get to 86 F. Thunder boomers thrashed the area for several hours. We even had a little wetletting from the sky, just enough to call it a sprinkle. No reports of rampant lightning strikes, knock wood. Porcupine Fire to the southeast is new but just an acre. A helicopter is doing bucket work on it.
With First Frida, we have the downtown Art Walk to entertain us and the First Frida Bike Ride. On a friend’s recommendation, we’re going to see a play, Disaster! It’s a comedy.
News reading drove The Neurons to invite Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers into the morning mental music stream. “Breakdown” from 1977 is looping through. Why not breakdown? Reading about the many aspects of U.S. life slowly breaking down is tres depressing. The Trump Regime is a seriously backward lot. Like, over under the Fox newsguy’s guidance, the Defense Department personnel have been instructed not to work with any think tanks. While it doesn’t make sense from a historic and intelligent point of view, it’s tots inline with the TACO Regime: they’re against thinking.
Under Trump, all signs point to not thinking as much as possible. Fer instance, don’t think about our history of slavery and civil rights. Don’t think about sexism and racism. Don’t think about climate change and increasing extreme weather disasters. Don’t think about due process, the Constitution, checks and balances, and historic precedence. Don’t think about Trump’s campaign promises and how he’s not delivered. Don’t think ’bout education and morality. Most def do not think about Epstein and Trump, and their secrets.
But it’s only the title, “Breakdown”, which works. The song itself, about a souring relationship, doesn’t apply. Oh, wait; I guess that can apply to Trump and his voters. Seem of them might be souring, according to polls. Really, too early. Takes a while for it all to gel and hit home.
Well, I can’t just sit here typing and reading and writing all day while drinking coffee. Things Must Be Done. Like, the car Must Be Put Into The Shop, because it’s systems are saying, it is time again. More yardwork and housework Must Be Done. More vacation planning is in order. Can’t have a good vacation without intensive dialogues about what Will Be Done and What Is Needed.
I hope peace and grace bless you this day. Cheers
Thunderstorms are on the way today, Wenzda, July 30, 2025. Worry has cranked up throughout the region. Thunderstorms equal lightning, wildfires, and smoke. Fingers crossed, knock on wood, etc., that we’re spared.
Meanwhile, it’s a blue sky lovely day. 74 now, heading toward 90 F. Texting with my sister in PA. She tells me it’s humid and close to 100 F there today. Everyone working outside are guarding against heatstroke. One of her husband’s co-workers was hospitalized for dizziness and high blood pressure.
Tsunami warning were given for Pacific coasts last night after a massive earthquake was detected off the coast of the Kamchatka Peninsula. My friends and I were familiar with that territory from playing Risk, but then there was a spy plane incident which cemented it in my memories. Fortunately, back to the tsunami warnings, little damage has been reported so far. Tsunamis called to mind the disastrous ones which hit Japan and destroyed a nuclear power plant in Marh of 2011, and the Christmas tsunami which nailed Thailand, Indonesia, and that region of Asia, killing hundreds of thousands of people. Nature’s power is stunning. Of course, in an aside, that’s why the United States and other nations worked together to create monitor and warning systems. That required international trust and cooperation, and the Trump Regime is actively undermining such work, unilaterally withdrawing the U.S. from alliances and agreements, and cutting funding, either directly, or through the termination of grants to universities and organizations.
Today’s music is a dream gift. “Who Invited You” is by The Donnas. I’m familiar with the group mostly because a friend listened to them. I lived in the Bay area in the 1990s and worked in Palo Alto, where The Donnas originated. My friend, a co-worker, burned CDs for me of several groups she liked, including the Squirrel Nut Zippers, Violent Femmes, and The Donnas. The dream part had me awakening from a dream just after I’d opened a door and someone asked me, “Who invited you in?” That dream moment, which I call a ‘dreament’, snapped back to me when I intercepted a spider coming in the front door after I opened to receive some cooling morning air. Asking it, “Who invited you in?”, the dream moment swiveled into focus and The Neurons hastened The Donnas into the morning mental music stream.
Hope all you jazz cats have a hip day. This coffee cat is downing his caffeine juice. Then into cutting grass and trimming bushes before the heat bellows in. Cheers
Here’s a hodge podge of things I’ve been thinking about this morning.
Food & Friends. We did our deliveries this morning. Half the route was canceled. That’s always worrisome. We don’t know what happened to those individuals. Fingers crossed, they’re okay. Okay is always a relative expression and has its own spectrum of meaning.
As I drove around, I wondered about the Big Beautiful Bill’s impact. The future is murky. Food & Friends is financed by a combo of state, local, and Federal coffers. Fed picks up the brunt, 65%. Fundraisers, private grants, and donations augment these monies.
From KFF and other online sources, F&F’s funds come via the Older Americans Act (OAA). This is administered through Health & Human Services and an agency called ACL, the Agency for Community Living . This is where it gets disorderly and messed up. Under Trump, the funding was withheld. H&HS is being reorganized. 10,000 positions have been terminated. I dislike using that euphemism, ‘layoff’. They were fired; terminated.
As with most things, the enshittification under Trump is striking here. “According to a recent HHS press release, ACL is releasing over $1 billion of Fiscal Year (FY) 2025 funding for Older Americans Act programs to state, local, and Tribal grant recipients – funds that had already been appropriated by Congress but withheld by the Trump administration.”
Researching my gall bladder issues, I realized I must give up yogurt and cheese. Sob. I’ll miss them more than steaks and burgers. Alas, I must also say farewell to pizza. And doughnuts. Lunch meat and bacon have been long gone. Butter is now gone, too. The list of what I can eat is getting short. I can still eat fruit and veggies, which I love. And nuts, as long as they’re unsalted, as my edema/lymph edema requires a low sodium diet.
A radio weather report said that thunderstorms were coming. We all reacted, “Oh, no.” Even the announcer was worried, adding to the report, “Hopefully, we won’t have a bunch of lightning strikes and fires.” Exactly. We’ve been fortunate so far this year.
Looking out the window, my wife said, “There’s not a cloud in the sky.” It’s a different picture, sixy minutes later.
‘Back home’ in Penn Hills, PA, a new plan has emerged for Mom. Mom is 89. She has multiple health issues. Trips to ER are regular as seasonal decorations being put up. She lives with her boyfriend, Frankie the Hand, 95 years old. At that age, he has problems of his own.
We the children have been agitating for her to move into assisted living and sell her home. Frankie’s children have been advocating the same. They have been adamant about not moving. Part of the issue is that Mom’s 1940s era home is three stories with narrow steps with steep rakes. A glide chair has been place between the main level and the upper bedroom level. To address that, Mom will move into the main level. The back deck will be converted to a bedroom. My brother-in-law, a plumber by trade, will do most of the work, aided by construction and electrician friends. Pat began the work today. It’s expected to be done in three weeks. It’s a noble plan but extremely flawed. It’ll buy some time but the fact is that Frank has cancer, he’s losing weight, suffering dizzy spells, blind in one eye, and getting deaf. That’s not a good description for a care-giver. We’ll see what happens.
As with everything, time will tell.
I’ve become a sunshine person. It wasn’t always like this. When I was young, I’d go out in weather that had others questioning my sanity. As I grabbed coats, shoes, whatever was needed, people would eye me with aghast expressions. “You’re going out in that?”
“Sure,” I’d answer, “it’s just a little rain.” Even if was a monsoon. Rain, snow, sleet, wind, nothing kept me in. Not even thunder and lightning. “Just going for a walk.”
I loved pitting myself against the elements. Felt like a hero out of a 19th century novel, just a rugged individual surviving against the elements. I thought myself quite heroic. Especially when I knew there was somewhere safe, warm, and secure to retreat to when I had my fill of being heroic.
Different these days. “Where’s the sun?” I ask. I search all of the sky, even though I know where it’s supposed to be. I know where east is. I know the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. I know those directions. Still, I sweep the sky in search of the sun, in case it got off its leash.
I don’t usually get an answer to my question about the sun’s location. Others always think it rhetorical. Probably because everyone knows where the sun is going. Not like it’s a wandering cat.
I used to be more indifferent to the sun. Now, I’m very picky. I don’t want it too bright, too hot, or too much. I have become Goldilocks sampling the three bears’ stuff.
I like a good warm sunshine. Not enough for sweat these days. Used to be — but you know. I don’t want to sweat. I want to be warm, with enough sunshine that wearing sunglasses make sense. Not that it really matters to me: I’m almost always wearing sunglasses outside. Sometimes I wear them inside.
“Why don’t you take off your sunglasses?” my wife will say. “You’re inside now.”
“I’m fine.”
“You look ridiculous.”
I shrug. I’m used to that.
Mood: coolbreezin’
It’s a rarity for us, an overcast summer day. Sunday, August 18, 2024, is also cool. No blue sky and diffused sunshine. Good air quality. Fresh, cool air is a glorious combo.
It’s 59 F now at my house, 71 F inside. Little more rain is expected, and a high of 78 degrees F is forecast.
The cats are lovin’ it (cue that music from those commercials by Mickey D, thanks to The Neurons). Didn’t like it yesterday. Well, Papi didn’t like it. It rained, the wind jumped up, and thunder rolled, cracked, and grumbled. First sound of thunder, Papi was in the house, hanging out in his safe space, which is the bathroom of our bedroom. Tucker, though — ha. Wind was blowing, thunder is adding loud noises, rain is falling, and Tucker is under his bush sleeping space in the backyard, wondering what’s going on. Finally got up, stretched, and sauntered over to the patio, sat, and washed. I petted him; yes, he was wet. He can be a mellow kitty.
More and more polls have Vice President Harris leading Trump. Demonstrating his amazing leadership skills, honed in the playground of his mind, Trump responded with name calling and claims that he’s better looking. As to the latter, no; just no.
Although Hurricane Ernesto didn’t strike the U.S., another house fell into the house in the Grand Banks and NYC closed its beaches due to the currents. That’s the seventh house in four years falling into the ocean in that little NC community, BTW.
Trump had a rally and confused the state he was in. Mentioned North Carolina when he was in Pennsylvania. The headline is, “Donald Trump ‘Confusing’ State He’s In At Rally Raises Questions”. Really? That raised questions? His claims about the airports being captured during the American Revolutionary War didn’t raise questions? Jan 6 didn’t raise questions? Walking out with an upside-down Bible didn’t raise questions? Referring to President Obama when he was supposed to be talking about Ms Clinton didn’t raise questions back in 2023, along with other confusion, or the more recent time, when he confused Willie Brown and Jerry Brown and made up a story about a scary incident didn’t raise questions? His 34 convictions didn’t raise question?
Let’s face it: there will be some who never raise questions about Trump. It seems to include a large portion of the media, and most of the GOP, and almost all of the MAGA base.
Trump also once again disrespected military members. This time he made a ridiculous comparison between the Medal of Freedom and the Medal of Honor. Trump’s claim is that the Medal of Freedom is “much better”. But what do you expect from a coward and bully like him, someone who lacks empathy and brags about how brave he is without ever facing danger?
Continuing with a theme of colors in song titles for my daily theme music has The Neurons excited. “Red!” they shouted today. “Red Rain. Little Red Corvette! Lady in Red! Red Rubber Ball!” I’m sure there are more but a contingent of The Neurons managed to get “Red Red Wine” going in the morning mental music stream (Trademark redlined).
Neil Diamond wrote “Red Red Wine” and performed it, but I enjoy UB40’s 1983 reggae style much better. That’s the one The Neurons are playing in the mental stream.
I’m already drinking me precious — I mean, my coffee. Be strong, remain positive, and vote blue. Here’s the video. Cheers
Mood: wednesdayhyped
Wednesday slides into place with a click. Snuggles up to August 14, 2024.
Cool summer morning. Hints of spring in that mountain air feel. It’s 62 F under smoke-free blues skies. Another less-than-hot day is expected, with a high of just 85 F. Comes with an asterisk: rain is forecasted for the evening, with thunderstorms. The thunderstorms aspect causes a thoughtful hitch to mental processes. Thunderstorms mean lightning. Lightning means fires. Fingers crossed, knock on wood, we won’t get hit. We’ve been fortunate so far this year.
I kept the windows open all day yesterday, along with the back blinds. It reached 83 F at our house outside, but inside was a comfy 78.
Weird, though, it smells like rain right now. I see that clouds have cantered in. Maybe they’re just getting an early start on setting up.
The housefloofs are digging on this chill weather. Sauntering into sunny places after breakfast, they assumed the grooming position. A jay karens over to tell them they’re grooming wrong. Those jays are such know-it-alls.
Just finished reading of Ernesto. It’s a Cat 1 hurricane now. Already been troubling Puerto Rico, which really doesn’t need it. Puerto Rico and a hurricane of course triggers images of then President Trump tosses out paper towels.
Paper towels are not really effective hurricane assistance. What are you going to do, Bounty up the flooding with ten zillion paper towels? Think of how many trash cans that would fill.
BTW, in a bizarre mental twist, calling the storm a ‘Cat 1’ has me imagining a huge cat swatting things around as the hurricane’s energy source. I think I need more coffee.
Shout it from the deep state’s secret location rooftops: inflation is below 3%. All those deeply concerned handwringers on the right whining about inflation should shut it now — if they’re aware. That’s the bigger problem: they’re not sharp about history, a little fuzzy on words and their meanings, and often stumble over what’s in and not in the Constitution. Of course, their news diet contributes. The right wing news feed will make you sick.
We got the dance theme continuing for today. The Neurons brought up a friend’s favorite. We were working together back when the musical Mamma Mia! hit the scene in 1999. She was sooo excited about it. I was sort of, meh, so I asked, why does it have her so up? Well, high school, the prom, “Dancing Queen” was the rage then.
Right then, our age differences were momentarily magnified. But hang on, I said; that came out in the seventies. Right, she agreed, but there had been some kind of revival of it when she was in high school. I’d not heard about that, but then, I’d been out the country in the military. Anyway, to belabor the point, The Neurons have “Dancing Queen” by Abba circulating in the morning mental music stream (Trademark bebopping).
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee is at hand, so here is the music. Cheers
Mood: Coffeebunctious
Good morning, good day, good afternoon, and good evening. Today is Tuesday, July 16, 2024. It’s now 81 F in Ashland, cloudy, a bit humid, stiff and dull with heat. Our high will be 99 F. Clouds like pleasure craft in the sea have come to the harbor of our sky.
We were coming back from running errands yesterday when the sky darkened. A large, swollen cloud mass blocked the sun, bringing up a wind. Rain veils hovered over the southern mountains’ trees. Could we get rain? my wife and I wondered.
Back home, we questioned Alexa. She assured us that rain wasn’t happening.
Then thunder steamrolled our street. Huh. A few minutes later came a lightning streak. More thunder. The power flickered and danced. Then soft rain pelted the hot ground, summoning petrichor from its depths. The temperature flew from the mid 90s to 86 F. Doors and windows were opened as the thin, light rain drizzled over us like light frosting and left. Thunder continued for another thirty minutes but that was the only band member there as lightning and precipitation hustled on. The temperature recovered to hit 90 but the evening cooled fast. The night was pleasantly chill, and a deep slumber was enjoyed.
One of the things that come with lightning in the west is worry about it striking the ground and igniting fires. Yes, that happened, quite a bit. Many were immediately found and outed. A few are still out there, watched and prioritized to be addressed by the proper government agencies.
The Neurons are feeding One Republic with “Counting Stars” from 2013 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark steamed). It was the line, “Lately, I’ve been, I’ve been losing sleep, dreaming about the things we could be,” which hooked The Neurons. I don’t blame them; I like the line as well. Then I sort of hooked onto later line myself: “Everything that kills me makes me feel alive.” As a person living with hypertension and medicating for it and dealing with edema, I make strenuous efforts to avoid sodium. My bod and sodium don’t get along and the less little bit each day triggers swelling and exasperation. Ah, life gives us each a unique burden to carry, unless you’re some kind of strangely fortunate one like TFG. It’s a uplifting song for me, nice beat, with some stirring lyrics aptly delivered.
Be strong, remain positive, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee and I have been sharing a pleasant morning. Hope you’ve been doing the same. Here’s the music video. Off we go. Cheers
A lightning storm ruled for about an hour during the night. I listened to it. Then, when I slept, I dreamed.
I was alone somewhere, standing on a surface. Under the surface, clearly seen by me from the side via a weird dream dual perspective, were outlines of boxes. The outlines was in bold black. The boxes were white inside. Empty, was my take. They weren’t attached and were haphazardly arranged.
Although it was a clear blue sky, lightning flashed. I began thinking. With bizarre dream logic, I decided that I could catch the lightning. So, the next time it flashed, I reached up and caught the bolt, easy as grabbing a string.
Next, with dream logic, I thought I should put this lightning into a box. Then I can use its energy later.
While I thought myself right, I learned by trying that most of the boxes would not take the lightning. They weren’t large enough, or were the wrong materials, even though all were the same black outline empty white things to me.
One larger box attracted my attention. Buried in the fourth level down, I thought, that’s the perfect box, just what I need. Finding a slot in the land beneath me, I fed the lightning down into my chosen box. It took the lightning and then immediately rose one level.
I concluded, okay, catch more lightning, feed it to the box, and the box will rise to where I can grab it. Meanwhile, in the dream, I’m thinking, that’s pretty cool that I can catch lightning. I also realized, wait, instead of just ignoring the other boxes, I should re-arrange them. If I do, I can create a structure that amplifies the lightning’s power for me.
That’s what I did. As I progressed, the boxes’ black outlines changed into red, green, blue, yellow, etc. The lightning box became a brilliant white gold as it filled. The dream finished with me looking down on the box as it rose above the others and began available. I felt quite powerful and satisfied with myself, as though I’d done something to complete myself.
Mood: Coffexcited
Sunshine rules Penn Hills and Monroeville this morning.
The clouds haven’t been dismissed like a MAGA claim. Oh, no. But they’re broken white and blue-grey pieces of what they once were.
This is May 8, 2024. Current temp here is 71 F. 82 F is our ceiling today.
We had a terrific thunderstorm around 1:30 AM this morning. Sky played cracked the whip with its sounds. I’d heard its soft rumbling beginnings as I was faded. Thought, what is that noise? Animal? Rain? Nope; thunder.
I listened to the storm progress and leave, then dropped into slumber land. There, the storm found its way into my dreams. Fun dreams, though. Nothing sinister or scary.
Mom had a good day yesterday. Physical therapist came by and spent time most of an hour watching her movements, talking to her, teaching her new exercises, closing with checking on the requested wheelchair and hospital bed for her. He was Jim, a nice guy. Man informed me that Jim also tends to clients in prison. I suggested that’s why Jim was selected to help Mom. A good laugh ensued.
Tonight, we attend my nephew’s final high school jazz ensemble concert. Other than that. preparations for a Mother’s Day cook-out at my sister’s house are in full bloom.
Conversations of note with Mom: she was talking about a meal her father used to make in the winters. This was a tangent from some jokes about goulash. She told me about slumgullion: ground beef, tomato sauce, macaroni or pasta, sometimes vegetables. I realized I’d eaten it throughout my life without knowing what it was called.
Another topic was the coal deliveries and the backbreaking work the boys in the household were required to do to get it into the house for its use.
It was absorbing talking to her and Frank about their youths, once again absorbing the mammoth changes in American living compared to eighty years ago. It definitely promotes speculation what people in America will be living like 80 years from now.
Today’s music comes from the dream. “Hang Fire” by the Rolling Stones was released in 1981. The Neurons released it to my morning mental music stream (Trademark stalled) after I contemplated my dreams this morning. It was a pretty good matchup. The song is a lightweight, pop offering. Not my favorite among the Stones’ offerings.
I would write about the Trump trial featuring Stormy Daniels, but I’m a little burnt out on it. I followed it live yesterday, discussing it with Mom. Now the trial has a day off, and I’m taking a day off from thinking and talking about it.
Nor do I feel especially inclined to bring up Gaza and the cease fire agreement, or the campus protests and crackdowns, politics in general, or the bad weather in some parts of the country and world. Just not up to it. More coffee is required before slipping down those muddy paths.
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music video offering. Look at those youngsters!
And away we go. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 