Tag: movie

Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts

I enjoy people watching, especially at the coffee shop. Everyone has a story. It’s not always clear, so I’ll make one up for them, if they’re interesting enough.

Well, Austin is interesting enough. About six foot one, pale skin, moderate build, neat strawberry blond hair, he’s dressed for the outdoors and carries a full pack, a serious hiking and camping pack, white ear pods inserted. First time I saw him in April, I figured that he was another off the Pacific Crest Trail. It runs through this area and many hiking it will pop into Ashland. See the movie Wild or read the book by the same name, and you’ll see my town featured. That’s our plaza in the link I posted.

(Side note to all that: the city posted where they’d be filming the movie so we could avoid the area because of road closures and delays, and all that. You know what that did, right? Also, to have the right season depicted, the leaves had already departed the trees, so they made leaves, attached them to the naked branches, and then removed them after filming.)

Well, Austin remains here months later. I’ve wondered why. He comes into the coffee shop several times a day while I’m there. He’d usually just drink cold water. Sometimes hot tea. Rarely buys more. I’ve seen people offer him money, and he always turns it down. He only speaks to the baristas, which is how I know his name. He’s told me thank you as I was leaving and he was entering and I held the door. Thrice. That’s it.

I sense he wants to be alone, so I leave him alone. Also, I’m there to write, so I don’t want to strike up conversations. I initially thought he was just recharging his batteries. Then, waiting for something to arrive in the mail. Now I think he’s on the run, and hiding out in Ashlandia. The question is, why? Who is after him? What will happen when they find him?

Whatever, he’ll probably show up in a story sometime. That’s just how it goes when you cross a writer’s path.

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Tiw’s Day’s Theme Music

Tiw’s Day is here at last, and the God couldn’t be happier about it. Breaking out in tears, the one-handed God thanked everyone with deep sincerity, not leaving anyone unmentioned, and then resumed his duties.

For those keeping score at home, this is August 8, 2023 in Ashlandia, where the train’s horn is loud and persistent against the quiet day. The sun’s influence and fronts have combined to breach 73 F right now, and they vow to keep going into the low nineties. Good to have goals, even for the sun and weather system.

(Meanwhile, the sun, upon reading this, asked himself in a bewildered murmur, “What’s he talking about? I don’t have goals. Do I have goals?” It gave him something to ponder while sipping his coffee.)

I have Van Halen performing “Best of Both Worlds” in the morning mental music stream (trademark TBD). Came upon that song as I noodled through my clothing needs for the day. Be walking in the morning, when it’s cooler. Than I’ll be in the coffee shop, where they like to pump up the A/C because it’s hot behind the counter, then walking again, and it’ll be in the eighties by then, before going to the movie theater, where it’s icy cold as deep space. We’re seeing Barbie today. I’m looking forward to watching Kate McKinnon as Weird Barbie. Always enjoyed her on “SNL”, especially when she was talking about her alien abduction experiences.

Anyway, I was thinking that I’d be wearing shorts, of course. It’s summer in Ashlandia. I wear shorts everywhere, unless it’s declared to be something semi-formal or above or the wife says something like, “You’re not wearing shorts.” “Of course I am,” I always reply before getting up to change. The shirt was the issue here. How heavy should the shirt be to meet my various needs? I’d be inside and out, and would thus need something to — ready? — cope with the best of both worlds. Yeah. That’s how The Neurons do it.

Be calm, stay positive, keep that strength up, and keep moving forward. It’s getting to be a long list, yeah, the things you must do to remain sane and healthy, hopeful, and optimistic, the things you must do to put in the work. I’ve have coffee but I’m having more, okay? Here’s the tune. Let’s go with it. Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music

As we slept, the overlords declared, “This will be Friday, June 23, 2023. Let us see how they take to the change.” So far as I can tell, the reality shuffle didn’t to anything to me, other than that flash in the night when the date and time was established. When you think about it, moving billions of people to another reality is impressive, especially as it takes so little energy and effort. They siphon off less than a quarter teaspoon of the needed energy off of every individual being shifted. Leaves a few people feeling groggy, sure. That’s why the overlords introduced us to coffee.

It’s a warmish June morning, 53 F right now. Heading up the scale to 80 F today. Thunderstorms were being mentioned yesterday when the weather they talked about the forecast. That word left their vocabulary now. Probably because they weren’t expecting the reality shift. Few usually are.

I was chatting with friends the other night. One is an unbridled cat fellow. The other is the father of a daughter who fosters. That’s what started the entire chat; she’d sent pix to him of her new foster. She’d already had a little singleton she was bottling feeding and bringing along. This week, another singleton was introduced so the poor little fellow has a play and cuddle buddy.

Remembering this convo this morning prompted The Neurons to inject David Bowie’s “Cat People (Putting Out Fires)” from 1982. A little rock, techno, and glam folded together, it was written for the movie, Cat People. Wouldn’t say the song is a ‘usual’ Bowie recipe; he frequently reinvented himself. No telling what he would come up with the next time a song or album was released.

Fire up your corporeal being. Stay pos. Drink some coffee, tea, etc., right? Something to light the body and spirit’s burners. Here’s the music. Liftoff.

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Friday’s Theme Music

The particulars are not impressive. Friday. September 2, 2022. 73 F now, 99 F later. Purple air, 148, not healthy for some, limit exposure. A pleasant sunrise complete with jay squawking at 6:37 AM, sunset ensuing at 7:43 PM. No clouds in the sky, but wildfire smoke grays the blue.

Mom tested positive for COVID this week. Born in 1935, with existing underlying conditions, it’s a worry. Sounded horrid on the phone and is dealing with a range of symptoms. Picked it up from her partner, who picked it up from his daughter, who picked it up from her high school reunion. So it goes. He tested and has symptoms but appears to be recovering. Mom is on a new med being evaluated in clinical trials with the FDA. The dice have been tossed. We’ll see how they come up.

Musically, The Neurons have Bob Seger doing “Shakedown” in the morning mental music stream. The song is from the 1987 film, Beverly Hills Cop II, an Eddie Murphy vehicle. This can get confusing because a movie with the same name as the song, Shakedown, with Peter Weller and Sam Elliott, came out the next year.

The song came into my head last night for unexplained reasons. Now, what’s interesting to me is that I knew I used this song before as the day’s selected them music, so I looked it up. It was on September 1, 2019. Weird to me that the song is in my mind on September 1 on two different years. Coincidence? Aliens? Witches? Quantum entanglement? Feline manipulation? None of it can be ruled out.

Stay positive and test negative. Take precautions as needed. I need coffee, you know? Then it’s off to write. Here’s the music. It’s a muddy video, but the sound is fine, and you can taste the flavor of the film, and those times, way back in the late 1980s. No, don’t do the math. Have a good life. Cheers

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A Made-for-TV Movie Dream

This dream stretch started first with a vignette of me traveling. I’d just settled into my destination when I jerked awake. Paralysis gripped me as I saw where I was and reacted with shock, This isn’t where I’m supposed to be. Where am I? How did I get here? Within a fist of seconds, I knew that I was home. But dream imagery held a little longer, requiring more time for my bafflement to drain. Then, back to sleep and another of Morpheus’s deliveries.

I was not in the next dream at all. This was the movie dream. A man and woman, white, thirtyish, were traveling together in a narrow RV. Ragtag clothes covered them. The man carried a thin, cheap pink cotton blanket while his companion carried a blue one of the same sort. These were the same sort of blankets I saw on many homes in my childhood’s earlier years, when we lived in poorer surroundings, usually on a bed in a small room with sparse furniture.

The couple were stopping for the night and wanted to sleep in a place rented for the purpose. Strangely, not hotel or motel accommodations, nor a house, lodge or cabin. Just a room, twenty feet long and six feet wide (guessing at those numbers), all mattress, dark, with a door on either end. Lacking money, the couple didn’t want to pay for it but wanted to use it so the concocted a plan to sneak into the room, use it for the night, awaken early, and sneak out. They parked their long RV around the corner, where it would be out of sight.

Watching this sequence, I asked, why are they doing this? Why not sleep in the RV? Isn’t that the purpose? I also thought, they’re not going to get away with this. They’re going to get caught.

Yes, they were spotted as they executed their plan and tried sneaking out. The man distracted them, going in one direction as dawn was rising, allowing the woman to reach the RV and drive off. They would meet up on a road outside of town.

But the man needed to get there. He scurried among the shadows around tall buildings and narrow alleys, hiding, working his way out of town. The final hurdle required him to dash through a lobby occupied by the very people hunting him and then sprint across a rocky, open field to a gravel road and then up the gravel road. Dust and sun ruled that space, and five men warily scanned their territory.

Yet, he judged his moment, raced across the lobby’s polished marble floor and fled between two window. Yes, some strange design plan allowed a wall with open space between two tall plates of glass. He’d spotted that and utilized it to get away. Several chased him but he had momentum, distance, and speed.

“That’s alright,” the one man said. Portly, large, with graying hair slicked back over a predominantly bald head, he wore a flowery ‘Hawaiian’ shirt. He was in charge and spoke through guffaws, snorts, and snickers. “Billy gave him a gift. Ain’t that right, Billy?”

“That’s right.” Billy was a lean young man in tight blue denim pants just entering the lobby.

“What was the gift?” a third asked.

The leader said, “A concoction of chemicals that’ll at least make him sick enough to wish himself dead, if he doesn’t die from it.”

We don’t know what happened to our man, whose name was never given. He didn’t make another dream appearance. Instead, his traveling mate, the woman, came in. Dressed in a suit, she had several tall, large men in suits accompanying her. Holding up a badge, she identified herself as a police officer. She’d been working undercover to get evidence on their operation and now arrested them for multiple crimes, including poisoning people. She revealed that she’d come back after them because they’d poisoned her on a previous visit.

The dream began scrambling at that point but I have a sense that the final piece was a report that the man who’d been with her was found by a patrol car.

Dream movie end.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Rain drops tune up on windows and vents for a melody I don’t recognize. Wind chases the cats back into the house’s security. The sun crested the southeast ridges at 6:22 AM but sunshine remains a wan, flighty element. Our temperatures will range from 46 F to 54 and back down again before the sunset show at 7:58 PM.

Today is Wednesday, April 20, 2022 — yes, 420. A lot of people have fun with this aspect of calendaring, you know, the code for marijuana or cannabis consumption, but it doesn’t move me much. I’ll probably joke with friends about it later.

I watched a fun drama, Metal Lords (Netflix), about high school boys pursuing a quest to be a heavy metal band. Lot of entertaining references to metal throughout helped, but there was strong acting and directing, and solid production values. While the usual high school tropes permeate, they’re lightly employed, because, come on, the usual tropes of bullying, social awkwardness, hormones, and cliques, do exist in RL HS, DB Weiss, who brought Game of Thrones to HBO, also deftly delivers some intelligent nuances to the tropes. I enjoy it and recommend it.

Anyway, the movie left me with a taste for a favorite of mine when I was on puberty’s cusp. “Paranoid” by Black Sabbath (1970) is in the morning mental metal music stream. Hope you enjoy it. Speaking of taste, my tastebuds are yearning for a little black magic brew. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, etc. Cheers

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The Movie Dream

I dreamed I was in a movie. Then I realized it was a movie and not life, so I stepped out of it. But then, remembering that I’d seen the movie, I tried recalling how it went. It seemed different, so I stepped back in to follow.

The dream was about a man protecting the Pope. Dressed in a black leather trench coat, with a black hat pulled low over his head, he was in a big white Lincoln Town Car. After some changes in camera perspective and mild action, it emerged that he’d been shot. People were after him and he was after them, trying to be proactive by getting them before they got him. I was very young, maybe thirteen or fourteen, with shaggy brown hair. At one point, I was accused of being the one who’d shot him. I was ready to proclaim my innocence, but the Pope’s bodyguard identified me and said, “He’s one of the good guys.” I was flattered to be cited as a good guy.

Now, though, I felt like I had to live up to that billing. I kept my eye on the Pope’s bodyguard, and spied others trying to sneak up on him. I went to give him warning, but he’d noticed them and was on it. It was at this point in my dream when I thought, wasn’t this a movie? Stepping out, I watched on a big screen as a fine silver thread was spooled out along a winding path through a business area. The silver thread was lit.

A fuse, I realized. But isn’t that different from the movie? That’s not how I remembered it happening.

I stepped back into it. Something was going to explode. I raced forward and scuffed out the silver thread. That ignited all manner of chaos as bad guys — in white clothing, or light clothing, male and female — rushing out to re-light the fuse and the Pope’s bodyguard fighting them off.

Which is where it ended, or was interrupted, by an unnamed cat called Tucker.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music – Fixed

We’re striding through the week, marching through Tuesday, October 19, 2021. The winds here think it’s March. They’re roaring like a lion. Sunrise arrived sans fanfare at 7:28 AM, with sunset due at 6:23 PM. Temps will reach into the mid sixties from their present point of 56 F before dropping down into the low forties tonight. It’ll be a dry day, with a bit o’ wind. If the wind ceases later, as expected, I’ll head out for a walk.

Was a beautiful walk yesterday afternoon. Two miles burnished by bright sunshine and cool, mild breezes. Colorful trees provided companionship, along with deer, squirrels, jays, and cats. With an AQI of ten, the view across the valley was unhindered and inspiring.

With the cooler temperatures, we have the house heat turned on for the season. We keep the house at 68 F during the day. While that’s the agreed temperature and I find it comfortable, my wife likes it hotter. Not so much a personal request on her part; more a matter of coping with her health conditions. As compromise to the situation, we have a small electric heater employed in the snug. It’s like a little sun in there. She cranked it up to Medium yesterday, or, as I call it, broil. Had the room a toasty 81 degrees F. That inspired the morning mental music stream, of course. I ended up singing lyrics to myself from “Some Like It Hot” by The Power Station, way back in 1985.

Feel the heat pushing you to decide
Feel the heat burning you up, ready or not

Some like it hot, and some sweat when the heat is on
Some feel the heat and decide that they can’t go on
Some like it hot, but you can’t tell how hot till you try
Some like it hot, so let’s turn up the heat till we fry

h/t to AZLyrics.com

The last time I used this song as theme music was June, 2019, when a heat wave was crashing o’er us. Whenever I think of the song’s title, I can’t stop the movie, “Some Like It Hot”, from crashing in. A silly farce from Billy Wilder that won six Academy Awards, it had a helluva cast, with Jack Lemmon, Tony Curtis, and Marilyn Monroe headlining. Not PC for these times. A remake would require substantial re-scripting. But it came out in 1959. I saw it on television, of course, a looong time later.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the music. Time for me to rassle up some coffee. Cheers

Well. Left the link to the video out. Sorry. That’s what I get, trying to post without hot-starting my brain with spot of coffee first.

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A Dream Without Me

I wasn’t in one of my dreams last night. It was about an android. He was a naked killing machine.

There was a woman who he was helping, also naked. She didn’t understand that he was an android. I keep ‘re-writing’ the dream, evolving awareness of who he was and what was going on. He needed to leave without the woman. She was trying to dissuade him by employing sex. She needed help. Protection. People were after her. He had another agenda, though. He knew leaving was required because ‘they’ were coming after him. He was a renegade android.

He’d come in on men attacking the woman. The android killed them — not because they were holding her prisoner, but because they came after the android. Others entered, chasing the android. He killed them, too.

Shocked by the violence, the woman was still grateful to ‘the man’. Although he and the woman screwed, he still departed. He was moving from house to house in a dark suburban neighborhood. He hid in a home where no one was home. Now, though, a small, brown yappy dog was inserted into the dream. This dog was befriending the android. The android didn’t want to the dog’s companionship. The dog kept running around a room the android occupied, barking. Is the dog also an android, my dream writer wondered?

As the scenes progressed, getting re-written but moving on, the android left, stealing away into the night. Planning to steal a car, he settled in bushes down the street to observe the scene. His systems could eavesdrop on electronic devices and he could hear better than humans. Police had arrived. POV was shifted to them, to one officer in particular. He was trying to piece together everything that had happened and managed to arrive at surprising speculation: what if the person they were after wasn’t a person? What if he was a machine? Others mocked his suggestion. He began looking for and finding details to support his theory, like precision of movements, trying to understand the android’s motivation. Considering the people killed, he put together the idea that the android had arrived, helped someone else, and then others arrived. He guessed that the others arriving were after the android. The android had killed them, as well, but then others came along, others who were related to the original killing.

As he was putting this together, he was trying to frame the dog’s presence, too. Why was that sweet little brown dog there? The dog was whining to leave.

Did the dog know where the android went? Could the dog follow the android?

Dream end.

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A Sisters-in-law Dream

The sitcom dreams have cycled out. Back to casual dreams, as I categorize them. This night featured a dream with my two sisters-in-law.

First, I’m facilitating a small group of people. I don’t know the group’s objective, but it did involve having to use clever means to bridge a fast-moving creek. A bridge was there but incomplete. I found a stretch of fencing and employed it. When others came, I had to show them what I’d done, laying out the fencing to bridge gaps, hold it up, and yet walk across it. That impressed them.

The older of my two sisters-in-law was there and requested a ride home. She was feeling ill. I wasn’t going that way but then discovered another who was. SIL had a baggie of treats. Some of it looked like white cake with raspberry jelly center layer and a coconut whipped cream top. Looked good! She said that I could have it but it wasn’t what it looked like. I took it and discovered it was hard candy. To which I was, bah, no thanks. She then went to get into a yellow SUV. I raised the rear for her. She put her things in but the woman driver started leaving with the rear still raised. I was incredulous but the woman turned and stopped. A short conversation ensued. Clarification achieved about what was going on, SIL entered the vehicle and it departed.

Act Two found me just completing another facilitating session, at a different location, with another group. I’d procured some treats for them. From where, they asked. We talked about that a bit, with me explaining that there was a candy store in a shopping center out on the highway. They said they’d gone there but didn’t find the treats that I had. I realize that they’d gone to another candy store, and then explained to them that there was a smaller shopping center in the corner of a larger shopping center. I’d gone to the candy store in the smaller shopping center. It helped that I could look out the window and see portions of both places, and put it out to them.

The group, probably two hundred people, arrived and settled in chairs. Although leading it, I was at the back, with my other SIL. I was showing an old movie to the group. My SIL wanted a ride home with me, which I agreed to do. The movie didn’t start as planned. I had to walk up as everyone watched, fix the equipment, return to my seat, and begin the film. Afterward, my SIL and I went to my car, the light blue 1985 Mazda RX-7 that my wife and I had bought new when we’d returned to America. I asked SIL if she minded if I removed the sunroof as it was a nice afternoon. She was okay with that.

The dream ended.

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