Tuesday’s Theme Music

We’re into the week’s repeat cycle. Sunny. Blue and white sky. 35 F. High, 41. Winter warning out for later today. Snow down to 1500 feet. 1-3 inches. Sunrise a minute earlier than yesterday. Sunset a minute later today.

That’s the summary for March 7, 2023. Tuesday.

Got Foreigner’s “Double Vision” from 1978 in the morning mental music stream. Dream brought it on. Won’t encumber you with details. Actually, still sorting it. I will say that I don’t know how “Double Vision” is related.

1978 found me going from Texas to WV, from the military to a restaurant owner and a college student. Hectic period of searching for myself.

It’s a brief ‘un today. My annoyance meter is rising. Just one of those things. Happens once a month. Usually one to two days. Gets really dark sometimes. Don’t know in advance where it’ll fall.

Stay pos if you can. A sip of coffee awaits my lips. Have a better one. Cheers

Someday’s Theme Music

Someday has come. Without work, without church, without routines save the one to get out and write again, my world has a narrow scope. Days on end seem the same, domino pieces with the same number of dots in the same order. Specifics like weather change, sometimes adding to the experience. Anyway, we’re planning a cruise — well, looking for one — after putting it off for a few years due to COVID. Just a small cruise, right, to feel the ocean’s roll and look at the expanse and remind myself how tiny I am. We’ll still working on our moving plans, but that’s going to consume a lot of energy. I’m not deeply into it yet.

It’s Sunday, Feb 5, 2023. Breakfast was already consumed, a bit of cantaloup and a cinnamon raisin bagel, and the coffee was drunk. News has been perused. Rain fell through the night, replenishing more local reservoirs and cisterns. Snow accumulates in the snowpack. 40 F now, under a gray crown, looking for 50 later. Sunrise and sunset are 7:20 AM and 5:30 PM. Celebrating a friend’s new grandchild, number four for him. He and his family are very pleased. I’m happy and excited because they’re happy and excited. It’s contagious stuff.

Didn’t sleep well, dealing with floofquests to go in and out, to be fed and petted, loved on and played with. They don’t want to recognize that I’m a day creature. “Come join us at night,” they urge.

“It’s dark and I can’t see,” I reply.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you. Mind that hairball. It’s fresh.”

A bright moon was a break-out hit at one point. Outside with Papi, enjoying the fresh rain-enlivened air, Papi said, “See? There’s plenty of light. What is that over there? What the hell, I’m out of here.” He scurried back, leaving me standing there and staring, mumbling to myself, “What is it? I don’t see anything. Papi? Papi?”

I was also wringing hands over editing decisions and book directions, cursing my novel as a vile creature that needs to be buried. It’s all good, just the process. A looonnngggg process sometimes. Out of this, The Neurons have directed a song from the last century into the morning mental music stream. “Epic” by Faith No More was released in 1990. I was still assigned to Germany at the time, and the song was hugely popular with the troops rotating in as part of Desert Shield/Desert Storm. It was heard often and loud.

Here’s the music. Stay pos and enjoy Sunday as best as you can. I will. Sort of. Cheers.

Monday’s Theme Music

The moon’s visit moved beyond normal to sublime. Sometimes a clear night hosts a moon that lights the night and finds something more primal and hopeful in the mind. Last night’s moon was one of these, romantic and inspirational, a moon with light that whispers, “the impossible is possible.” No wonder a moon like that is spoken of in sentences about magic, fairies, and spaceships.

It’s January 16, 2023. It’s Monday. It’s 30 degrees F and sunny. It’s calm. It’s a new week’s start. Happy New Week! Have you made any New Week resolutions? I have. Of course I have. I don’t do NY ones, but I do daily, weekly, and monthly resolutions. You only fail if you give up trying, am I right? Some people place the week’s start on Sunday. I consider Saturday and Sunday neutral ground. The week begins on Monday and ends on Friday.

The sun pressed its presence into our valley at 7:37 this morning, coming around like it’s nobody’s business. Daylight will light us up until about 5:05 this evening. Then the sun will set and bring on dusk, followed by night. The cold front will keep our high from getting much above 42 F. Some say that rain is due but the clouds for that job haven’t checked in. Snow is visible in far fields on high mountains, appearing like cake frosting on the ridges’ pines and firs. It’s a tranquil blue-sky sight.

News continues emerging about President Biden and the classified documents found at his home and office. This turn pisses me off more than Trump’s classified doc scandal. I thought Joe Biden was responsible and this oversight, this sloppiness, is infuriating. I was in the Air Force for twenty years. With high secret clearances and active in special access programs, dealing with classified material, including stuff that was Top Secret with special qualifiers, including nuclear war plans, launch codes, attack plans, and intelligence materials, I was frequently the Top-Secret Control Officer, the unit security manager, and also often the OPSEC/COMSEC and COMPUSEC manager. I took it seriously. My peers, commanders, and those we supervised all took it very damn seriously. I was appointed as an investigator several times when processes failed or people violated the governing regs and laws. Trump’s conniving to keep some classified documents ‘as his own’ insulted our efforts to keep the nation safe by properly protecting such material. Joe Biden’s sloppiness — or worse, as the investigations are only under way — undermines our systems as well. President Biden has at least acknowledged that what has happened is bad, unlike Trump, who dances and shouts, trying to deflect blame and responsibility, squeaking out ridiculous justifications for what he did.

Okay, off the soap box. Today’s music is “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood”. I went with the Animals version of 1964. Besides being the version seared into my memory by radio play repetition, I’ve always liked Eric Burdon. I also enjoyed the band’s keyboard use and the gritty blues sound they brought to their performances. The Neurons decided on this song and put it in the morning mental music stream after conversations with the cats. They were asking for something and I didn’t understand what it was. The felines’ insistence was the final driver for Les Neurons. Listening to them, Eric Burdon’s voice just rose from the depths of memory to sing, “Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.” And there we were.

Try to stay positive. I know it can be tough. I feel less than positive on many days. Right now, I’m positive that I would murder a cup of coffee so I’m heading to the kitchen for that black brew. I’m excited just thinking about it! Here’s the music. Hope your week takes you to new heights. Cheers

Sunday’s Theme Music

We rose to a sky rich with sunshine. It’s Sunday, January 8, 2023. The sunshine is welcome. It’s in the forties here but the cats and wife agree, it feels colder than that. I was out at midnight last night, delivering used kitty litter to a trash can, and paused to check out the night. It smelled like winter to me, if you know what I mean. That sort of element has been missing for this winter except for a few days.

Sunrise finally moved off of 7:40 AM. At last we’ve begun moving toward an earlier sunrise, with the sun sneaking up on us a full minute earlier. Friggin’ rejoice. Sunset is all the way back to 4:56 this evening. By next week, it’ll be setting after 5 PM. I’m looking forward to a longer day. A cougar prowling the town after sunset reduces my willingness to go out there. I don’t think the big cat will attack me, but I really don’t need to test that theory.

Today’s song is by a group called Montrose. The name comes from Ronnie Montrose, the lead guitarist and band founder. Sammy Hagar was the lead singer. The song in the morning mental music stream is “I’ve Got the Fire”. Watching the video and listening, it’s interesting how much Sammy’s voice stayed the same through the decades. Anyway, the song came out in 1974. I didn’t know about it at the time. I entered the military in October of 1974 and the album was released a little later. When in basic, we had little outside contact. This was before the net, personal computers, and cell phones. For people to reach us, they had to contact the squadron office and leave a message. We weren’t permitted to hear radios or watch televisions. Riding in motorized vehicles were off limits until the final week. We had to earn the right to visit the base exchange after several weeks. Funny in retrospect, but we knew little going on outside of our unit. We were allowed to line up and use the pay phone to call home after three or four weeks, if you and your unit were making satisfactory progress.

Anyway, after finishing basic and listening to music again, I discovered the new Montrose album. Montrose was another band that my high school friends didn’t appreciate, except for Scott and Rick. The three of us were considered strange, but we had fun.

The song is in mind today because of ginger cat, Papi. It was pouring rain last night. The wind at one point growled like a large, angry giant, and then slammed the house’s side like it was really pissed off. Of course, Papi doesn’t care about that. Doesn’t care about cougars, either. Just, let me out!

I was going to use an audio only file, but I couldn’t resist this Midnight Special video. “Paper Money” leads off. “I Got the Fire” starts at 4:56 in if you want to cut to it.

I finally did after stern words and ignoring him was ignored. A while later, he banged on the door to get back in. Yeah, he was cold and soaked. I mentioned, “Come in to the heat. We got the fire.” Then I helped him dry off. Meanwhile, The Neurons started several fire songs. I foolishly let my mind wander into the pickets of music I’ve heard in my life, focusing on all the songs that mentioned fire. There are a lot. Somehow, The Neurons dug out this lesser known 1974 song. Voila, it’s our theme music for today.

Stay pos and test neg. I’m off for a cup of coffee, hear what I’m saying. Hope your Sunday trends in a positive way. Cheers

‘Nother Military Dream

It was another military dream but with a marked difference. First, a friend, Jeff, who was also in the military was in the dream.

I was at some unidentified Air Force base. I was a chief master sergeant, E9, and was due to attend a conference of CMS that was due to start. (This is two ranks above my RL retired rank.) I worried about my hair, my uniform, and my shoes as attendees began arriving. But I slipped away and pressed my uniform, taking care of that, putting razor sharp creases in it. Then I stayed low until the barber opened. When I walked into the barber shop, there were two barbers and no customers, so either one could immediately cut my hair. Both knew me by name.

After getting my hair cut, I left the shop and looked down at my shoes. They were scuffed and old. I said to myself, those aren’t my shoes, and they immediately changed into highly polished new shoes.

I felt a lot better about myself. I ran into Jeff, also a CMS. He and I chatted. I ended up telling him about a cousin who died of cancer (a cancer did die of cancer in RL). We were walking around as we talked. Female military spouses were all over the place, and they kept flirting with me. The attention flattered me.

Jeff and I stayed together through the morning, sitting down and eating. Then the conference was due to start. Another CMS came up and asked if I was going, because it was getting under way. I told him that I’d left the military twice and came back twice, but now I’m done. I wasn’t going to attend. I was taking off my uniform and leaving.

I went off to find a bathroom. When I found one, I undressed and then peed and discovered that my pecker was half purple. One of the wives walked in on me. While taking a long look at my body, she apologized for entering. I replied, “I don’t mind. I’m just wondering why my penis is half purple.”

Dream end.

Monday’s Theme Music

Long, thin shadows slash the ground as sunshine creeps out of the mists like a forgotten movie star. Monday has come on us again, regular as a calendar. It’s December 19, 2022, and the southern Oregon temperature hovers at 27 degrees F. The sunny disposition of the twenty-four-hour cycle commenced at 7:35 this morning and will be completed with the sun’s turning away at 4:41 this PM. These are colder days than we’re used to, on average. It’s 27 F now, but we’re used to the bottom being 31 F. The highs are closer to average, 46, and that’s what we’ll see today. But this extended period of temperatures dipping into the low to mid-twenties is a winter flavor that we taste in the winter months, but not every day, and it’s not winning me over as other things that I taste every day has done, such as coffee. It’s not like the cold temperatures are delivering some wonderful winter scenes of snow to give it that holiday feel. No, autumn colors have fled. Although grasses are green, the annuals are brown and naked. The land just looks weary.

Yeah, in a darker place today, a culmination of matters which really don’t matter, but try telling that to your brain and emotions, yeah? Yeah. Has me thinking of 1991. 1991 was a transition year for me, coming back from Europe to the U.S., and re-developing my relationship with American culture. 1991 seems like yesterday, as does 1985, and 1975, and many other years, but are all receding further into my past.

Today’s reflective, melancholy mélange has The Neurons playing a 1991 tune by Yes called “Lift Me Up”. Music groups have their own life cycles and Yes has a long, complicated existence. Two versions of Yes as a group were out there for a while, arguing over the right to be Yes. This song is off an album called Union with songs from both Yes factions. It was a real Yes mess but I like this Yes song. It has the usual progressive nuances which occupy every Yes song. Hope you enjoy it and it does a memory thingy for you as it has for me.

Stay pos and test neg. Endure and get on through the lows and highs, however much they swallow and lift you. Now, where is my coffee? It feels like a coffee day. Of course, so does every day, IMO. Here’s the 1991 music, courtesy of 2022 technology and commerce. Cheers

Wednesday’s Theme Music

A winter Wednesday morning to you. No snow here in the lower levels, but the temperatures and air quality has us singing that winter is upon us. No surprise, it being December 14, 2022, a nose hair short of mid-month. -2 C and foggy out there. The fog will grumble and fuss around the trees and houses for most of the morning but burn off and permit sunshine’s entrance. Daylight crept through the valley’s fog at 7:32 this morning. By the time the sun lowers its from our presence, the air temp is supposed to jump up to 46 degrees F. It may do so but yesterday’s 42 degrees felt like 34, as they say.

After perusing some morning news headlines, I pulled an early cup of coffee, and wrote the dream journal up. Les Neurons then then pulled me down a ‘where are they now’ path about a one-time neighbor and co-worker. We were serving the Air Force together at Onizuka AFB in the mid-nineties last century. Before Onizuka was renamed to honor an astronaut killed in t he Challenger disaster, it was Sunnyvale Air Station. It went from Air Station to Air Force Base to Air Base after being renamed Onizuka.

That has nothing to do with my friend. Last which I heard of him, he’d gone to Turkey on an unaccompanied assignment, returned to Florida, divorced, and retired. He and I ‘connected’ on Facebook but little was ever there of him except for annual birthday greetings from people I don’t know. He’d quit responding to those a decade ago. Alive or dead, The Neurons wonder.

Today’s song, brought to you by The Neurons and their ‘where are they now’ tour, is “Cut Like A Knife” by Bryan Adams from 1983. This is because the tour subject loved this song. Midway through a party, he’d request it. If he’d imbibed enough and it was late enough, he’d sing and play air guitar to the song. Thinking of him, I think of that song, and cigarettes and beer.

Hope you enjoy it. Stay pos and test neg. I gather from reading digital news papiers that a growing body of folks eschews such quaint measures as masking, testing, etc. “It’s nothing,” you read more often online even as rates of flu and COVID climb. Certainly, local store experiences find my wife and I in a tiny minority when we’re masked while shopping. Oh well, live and learn.

Here’s the tunes. I need to wrap up morning activities, and head to the coffee house for writing activities. Hope your day is safe but enjoyable. Let’s go on a limb and say, productive, too, right?


Tuesday’s Theme Music

Bellowing, “I am here,” November stomped in. Rain fell. Temperatures fell. Snow flurries fell.

Sun rise came at 7:44, but with November’s presence, the sun became a meek shadow of itself. It’s 2 degrees C now but we expect a slow battle to 48 F before the sun surrenders to the situation at 6:05 PM. With no sunlight and tenuous daylight, we’re forced, for the first time in months, to turn on houselights to see in the morning.

Clarification is needed. The two baths, one lit by a window and a solar tube, and the other illuminated by a skylight, often needs a light turned on in the morning. So, frequently, does the kitchen outside of the summer months. Situated in the west facing side — yeah, ‘the front’ would be the technical expression — the kitchen’s western window doesn’t catch any morning sunlight, either. Not in the autumn, winter, and early spring. Those rooms typically need a light turned on, as does the laundry room. Windowless, it’s in the house’s middle.

But the office, with its huge windows, doesn’t usually need added houselights. Even though it’s also on the western side, it’s just drop the blinds and let in the daylight. Not today, friends, not today. The lights are on even in the office.

This is Tuesday, November 1, 2022. Change the calendar’s page and say good-bye to October. You might catch 2023 peeking around a corner. Give her a wave if you do. She’s coming. It wouldn’t hurt to be chummy with her when she arrives.

BTW, a winter storm warning is out, snow above 5,000 feet. Chain and snow tire season has landed.

Rain songs from multiple decades deluge the morning mental music stream. But the cold wins. Many songs oriented around the cold exist but The Neurons fell back on a Tom Petty favorite, “Out in the Cold”, from 1991. They’re moved that way by memory. 1991’s start find me stationed in Germany, ending a four-year duty as part of a covert intelligence unit. February, I arrived in the SF Bay area, out in Sunnyvale, California, and my new and final duty assignment at Onizuka Air Station. It was pouring freakin’ rain that day, the end of a drought that’d been plaguing the area. It was also cold, and that was the year in which Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers had a hit with this song. It’s a rocking band. Love Mike’s shredding on lead guitar.

I’ve used this song back in June, 2021. A cool morning, I wrote, and rainy. I had three cats then. They were out there with me as I enjoyed the rain and a cup of coffee. Two stayed out while the other went back inside with me.

1991 was also when the first Gulf War was going on. Remember that?

Stay positive, test negative, drink a warm beverage if it’s a cold day, stay cool if it’s a hot one for you. That’s what was always interesting about my travels, finding the new weather of the new location after touching down. The weather announced, “You are here.”

The coffee is also here, hot, black, and ready. Here’s the tune. Cheers

A Shambolic Dream

Arriving somewhere outside, I was met by a man I knew. I’d worked with him at a startup after my military career. Now he was dressed as a light colonel. Greeting me and my wife, he said, thumb over shoulder to indicate direction, “Come on over here and join us. We’re going to review your records.”

So first, I acted like that was completely and totally normal. I said to my wife, “Oh, I guess I’m in the military.” She agreed and went off to do something while I went through my review.

Several problems immediately presented. One, no uniform. Two, haircut out of regs. So was the mustache. Three, I needed to get my records.

My records were to have been pulled and sent over for the review. I was directed over to an area where a table was set up like it was in a record store, but this was all outside under a sunny early autumn day. People were milling, going through the sectioned records, searching for their records. Someone offered to help me. As I went through them, I found my records and so announced. But wait; those weren’t my records. The first and last names were correct, but the middle name was wrong. On, no, they’d sent over the wrong records.

As I swore a bit about what had happened, I noticed another table to the left. It wasn’t set up in the same way. I stepped over to it and there were my records.

I rushed them over to the large card table where the review was being conducted. I knew several of those folks from both military and civilian careers. As I came up, I heard one chief master sergeant say, “But that’s how he aways is.” Others agreed.

I was mortified. Were they speaking of me? What did they mean?

They reviewed others’ records. When it came to be my turn, I joked with them and then explained that I was just back, I’d been visiting with my mother, who’d been very sick. They seemed disinterested. They looked through my records and commented on my haircut and lack of uniform. I told them that I was trying to get it together. One said, “Didn’t you come back from being with your mother a few weeks ago?” When I answered yes, he continued, “Then shouldn’t you have it together by now?”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Let me go get my haircut. My wife was just telling me that I needed to get one. And my uniform is in my locker. I’ll get it and put it on.”

I went off, with my wife joining me. We were mumbling to one another about the situation. She had my clothes, having gotten them out of my locker. Great, but they were horribly wrinkled. Where could I iron them or have them pressed? There was no time, no time.

Then, some young airman dressed in a black pseudo-NAZI military uniform insulted my wife. Overhearing it, I was furious. Confronting him, I wanted to hit him but instead warned him that I was taking action against him. Laughing, he told me, “Fuck you.” That pissed me off further. Another person attempted to defend him as the first guy stood there laughing. I told both that I was busting their asses before my wife pulled me away.

Stepping out of the locker area, I put on the wrinkled pants. Others, including the board members, turned and watched. I then tugged on the shirt only to realize that the shirt and pants were from two different uniform combinations and didn’t match. I thought, oh my God, now I’m screwed.

The guy who greeted me at the dream’s beginning came up. He said, “Don’t worry about any of this. We’re cutting you a break.” As I responded with astonished relief, he went on, “They reported that they found a spell on you, a curse. We’ve lifted that, but since you were under it up to this point, we thought we’d give you a pass.”

The dream ended as I was absorbing this.

Saturday’s Theme Music

When they finally broke through to the other side and the dust cleared, they found a material world with many boulevards of broken dreams. No matter; it was Saturday, August 27, 2022. They had that going for them, if nothing else.

It’s overcast in my swath of the world. Though the day advanced with the sun cresting the eastern mountains at 6:31 AM, the sun’s warmth is remote and oblique. 18 C now, we expect 83 F to be the temperature’s peak. Night will take over at 7:53 this evening, when the sun ‘moves on’ as the world turns.

For music, The Neurons are plying the morning mental music stream with a song from Peter Gabriel. Named “Blood of Eden”, you might expect it to be an energetic, uplifting, hard rocker. Surprisingly, it’s not. (Yes, you correctly detected snark. Good for you. You must have already had coffee.) I’ve always been a Peter Gabiel fan. This 1983 song was another one which prompted me to listen carefully as my brain asked, “Wait, what’s he saying?” The Neurons restored the song to active presence in my mind after overhearing an older man and woman chatting over coffee. He said in response to her reply, “She said that she can’t afford the insurance.” And while my brain remained engaged on its task, The Neurons took up that line and hooked it up with the “Blood of Eden” lyric, “I cannot get insurance anymore. They don’t take credit, only gold.” That’s just how The Neurons play.

My coffee is at hand. I wasn’t always a coffee drinker. Didn’t start that until around fifth, sixth grade, while visiting a friend’s house. We had the same first name, Michael, although he was a Mike. People habitually said, here’s Michael and Mike, or M and M. Mike used to have coffee with a lot of sugar and cream. I only drank it this way a few times, always at his house. When our compasses took us in different directions, I quit drinking coffee and didn’t resume until I was twenty and in the military. Even then, I was only an occasional imbiber of the black brew, usually on midnight shifts. I became a regular drinker when I went off shifts and became the Training NCO. My boss would come in each morning and say, “Let’s go get coffee.” That’s where the habit really developed for me. That was at Kadena on Okinawa, after I’d been there a few years, so I was twenty-seven. My relationship with coffee blossomed. By the time I reached Germany a few years later, I was identified as a hard-core coffee drinker.

BTW, the coffee was bought at an Army & Air Force Exchange Services cafeteria upstairs from the command post where I worked. It cost ninety cents.

Stay positive and test negative. Take care of your family, community, tribe, and self. Here’s the music. Cheers

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