Tag: music

Wednesday’s Theme Music

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

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Coffeevescent

The spinning never stops. Despite this, activities on Earth shift and a new day arrives. This one is May 7, 2024.

In Penn Hills, PA, we all awaken to light rain and 50 degrees F. Rain is expected to command the day. Cloud cover makes me think, yes, that’s going to happen. But the weather seers say that it’ll be 79 F before Penn Hills is spun away from facing Sol today.

Mom had a rough day yesterday. ‘Bowel matters’, you know? Apparently drained her pretty well — that pun is totally inadvertent — as she napped through the afternoon. I’d ordered Echo Pops for her house so we can use her Alexa as an intercom. That will end the need for her and Frank to bellow across the domicile at one another. Alexa can also be used to call others, including an ambulance. As Alexa is voice activated, if they fall and can’t get up, they can still call for help.

The Pops were a breeze to set up. Three were added to the system. At less than $20 each, they seem like a simple and inexpensive intercom solution. Because issue will be conditioning Mom and Frank to use them.

I’m at the coffee shop now. I’ve established a basic routine. Up a 7:45. Mediation, exercise, dress. Out the door to the coffee shop. Back before noon.

Mom and Frank are usually sleeping until tennish. Incidents in the night frequently break their sleep. Mom gets out of bed, dresses and comes downstairs by noon. I relieve Frank. He takes off to visit his family and work out at the gym. I visit with Mom, make her ‘breakfast’, and help her with her needs. Breakfast is marked like that because it’s usually after one before she wants to eat.

It’s a crowded coffee shop today, so I’m in my spaceship fantasy, where we’re not a planet hurtling through space, but a human made machine destined for a new planet.

Today’s song has unknown origins in my morning mental music stream (Trademark confused). The Neurons ordered up “Little Miss Can Be Wrong”. They’re treating their reasoning for that song choice as double top-secret closehold information.

Not that I mind the song. Released by the Spin Doctors in 1992, it’s energetic and beaty. Not bad music to be revolving over and over and over again in your mind, right, right?

Coffee is being inhaled. Be strong, stay cool and positive, and Vote Blue n 2024. That’s my current plan. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood:

It was a night of interesting dreams.

Now it’s day. May 5, 2024. Rain. 56 F. Sea of clouds. High in the low sixties. A week until Mother’s Day. Jostling about what to do for Mom for Mom’s Day will begin this week.

Mom is doing well. Energy levels seem up. I had to harangue her to do her physical therapy exercises yesterday. Following her obsessive compulsive behavior, she wanted to clean. The day before, it was to clean the kitchen. Yesterday, it was vacuum. I took that over from her after failing to talk her out of it. Wonder what cleaning she’ll insist on today. Bet it’s the laundry. The entire time she’s doing these cleaning tasks, she complains about her back pain and cries out in pain, talks about how hot and tired she feels, and how she needs to sit down. Yet she cleans on. It’s a lifetime of habit and conditioning driving her. Hard to break that.

Little sister L is scheduled to visit. She’s bringing over vegetable soup. It’s good vegetable soup weather. I am looking forward to it.

Meanwhile, I went to little sister G’s house last night, visiting with her gang. Had dinner of turkey meat loaf with mashed potatoes and roasted carrots with onions. All so delicious. Dessert was then bakery three berry pie, also excellent. Her hubby bought some excellent beer and I two of those. We watched the Derby, an exciting race with a surprising outcome.

The Neurons loaded “All I Need Is A Miracle” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark dizzying). The Mike +The Mechanics song was released in 1986 and was from another CD that saw a lot of play as I drove around the southeastern U.S. on military assignments.

I am absolutely certain that a dream inspired The Neurons’ offering to the stream. One of the dream’s acts included meeting a woman who was really attractive to me. But I’m married, as she was, and I didn’t want to indulge in affairs. But noticing my interest in her, she decided to come after me. Flattered, I remained true to my fidelity and rejected her. This went back and forth throughout the dream. She eventually told me that all she needs is a miracle. And there we are.

As for the song, it’s classic 1980s techno-rock, with that beat, bass line, and keyboards. Harbors lots of memories and good times for moi, as we said in those days.

Stay positive and strong, be sharp and ready, and Vote Blue in 2024. I’m at the coffee shop and we’ve had sip off. Here’s the video. Cheers

5

Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: coffeemistic

I’m ensconced in Penn Hills, PA, an eastern suburb of Pittsburgh, visiting family. A light rain is scenting the 64 F air with petrichor. Temp should peak at 67 F.

Weirdly, the weather seems ‘right’ to me. I emerged from my cocoon in this area and first spread my wings. Lived with Mom and grandparents when I was a child not going to school, moved away in conjunction with Dad’s military service, then returned here. Attended school in several small burghs for second grade through my high school sophomore year. Since Mom and a buncha extended family live here, I’ve been returning again and again on my own cycadean rhythm.

Tragically, Mom only serves decaf. She and her man only drink decaf. So, they make a big pot of coffee. Once it’s done brewing, they draw from it for days and doctor it with cream and nuke it in the microwave. Gag gag gag.

So I slipped away for coffee and writing, heading for a Starbucks. That works for Mother and I and the general household, since Mom and her BF sleep in late these days. She said she doesn’t emerge from her nocturnal seclusion until almost noon. Then her BF, already dressed, ensures she’s set up for the afternoon, and goes out on his errands. His first stop is the gym, where this former boxer, now in his early nineties, works out.

The Starbucks was chosen because it’s where my niece and her boyfriend work. Both are college grads with bachelor’s degrees. Her’s is in business administration. She speaks several languages and plays the violin and is still attending college, going into software and database administration.

So guess who served me? Yes, she looked up with widening eyes when I said, “Morning, Amy.” I hope to have more of a visit with her than that, of course.

Amy and I have a running joke from when she was a child. There’s a movie called The Mothman Prophecies which came out in 2002. It’s about a bridge collapse in Weirton, WV, and a mothman warning it was gonna happy. A brother-in-law (not Amy’s father) saw the movie while traveling in West Virginia. It freaked him out because after watching the movie, his hotel room phone began ringing, just like in the movie. He and I and Amy talked about it in subsequent years. I began calling her Mothgirl. She dubbed me Mothman.

Today’s music arrives via a conversation about me living on the west coast. Everyone hearing hat immediately asks, “California?” No, I’m from the Pacific Northwest, Oregon, to add more precision, Ashlandia, to get granular. But the California suggestions kicked The Neurons into filling the morning mental music stream (Trademark with “Californication”. The Red Hot Chili Peppers released the song in 1999. I immediately took to it. It’s a drool commentary about how Hollywood sells California as the place to be. Several little plays on pop culture are woven into the song.

On to the day. Stay strong, be positive, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music video. Cheers from Pennsylvania.

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: Visative

My computer said, “Looks like you’re in Penn Hills, PA.”

I replied, “What ’bout it? You trying to start something?”

“No,” the machine said, “just asking, you know, you want the local time and weather?”

Yes, I’m at Mom’s house in Penn Hills, back to help out as I can. I went out to get fresh morning air at 9 AM. Humid, warm air slapped my face. I’m dribbling sweat from my pits. I’s 73 F with a high of 84 F coming up. Light rain is expected at 5 PM. The Neurons are like, what is this stuff, humidity?

A stranger in a strange land vibe flucuates. Mom and Frank are the same as ever but gravity is apparently stronger here. They move more slowly, even sluggishly. I’m noticed the same gravity effect on myself; steps I used to quasi-bound up — couldn’t do too much bounding, with their steep rake, narrow confines, and small tread — are carefully navigated. Humidity and gravity. I never expected them to betray me.

My visit is open-ended but I think it’s on a short leash. I want to give my sisters and Mom’s boyfriend a little break from having to do everything for Mom.

Yesterday was a travel day. Left the house at 11 AM and arrived at Mom’s place at midnight. Two flights. Both United. One of the two was on-time for a 50% rate. Not bad? I had to scramble between flights in Denver as the next flight was already boarding. It seemed like over half the people on my United Boeing 737 flight rowed were in the same straits. We rushed out of the jetway like ants scrambling from an anthill under duress.

I’m in the kitchen, sipping coffee, listening to the upstairs sounds drift back down to me as they awake and dress to meet the day. I let them sleep in. I know how good sleep can feel.

With that background, The Neurons fed Dire Straits, “Sultans of Swing”, into the morning mental music stream. Released in the U.S. in 1979, this was the one which first made folks like me ask, “Who are these guys?” Since its release, I’ve grown fond of Mark Knopfler’s many talents. This puts it all on display.

Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. As noted, I went onto the coffee car already and got my caffeinated assist. Here we go.

Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: hazy

Rain is falling on Thursday’s windows. It’s May 2, 2024.

You’d think that the falling rain would have The Neurons loading the morning mental music stream (Trademark washed away) with rainy songs. But that’s not the case. Another song dominates the mental music stream.

It wasn’t dreams. Had several which I can recall. They were surprisingly spirited, positive dreams and don’t seem to have anything to do with The Neurons’ song choice.

Nor are the cats inspiring the song, as far as I can discern. They’ren napping, recovering from eating breakfast. Playing twenty questions with The Neurons, I try to unearth their reasoning. They’re as cooperative as a witness pleading the fifth.

Meanwhile, it’s another wet and chilly spring day. 49 F, our high will be 53 F. Zing. Better than tornados.

Okay, here’s today’s music, “All Day and All of the Night” by the Kinks from 1964. I was eight, so I must’ve picked it up later. Probably about the time when “Lola” came out, in 1970.

Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee has been done up. Here we go. Cheers

2

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: oneofthosekindofdaysic

We started this day in Ashlandia, Wednesday, May 1, 2024, at 36 F. Chilly, baby. No clouds besmirched the blue sky. Sunshine stormed in at dawn. Asserting itself like a new young bull, the sunshine and front pushed the temperature up to 53 F. It’s still climbing with an expected final stop at 67 F.

The cats can’t wait until it gets that warm. Both stayed out for a testing period in the early hours but galloped to the house when I opened the door and offered sanctuary. Tucker and Papi are now napping like the house cats they are.

Yeah, my mood is oneofhosekindofdaysic. All first world blues junk. Fitbit crashing itself, losing two days of data. GASP! Stop the presses. Slow-loading pages. Connectivity matters at the coffee shop. OH NO, it’s the end of the world. Little matters like that which chip away at your spirit like water dripping on stone. It’s such a cruel world. How can I possibly enjoy my scone and coffee under these conditions? Yes, that’s 24 karat snark.

Reading news restores some semblance of balance. People killed in tornados and storms. I can’t deter my brain from imagining what their death must have seemed like. The noise and power of the storm followed by some manner of incident which causes their demise. Seems like a lonely and terrifying way to die. Of course, hearing incoming missiles or artillery shells also seems terrifying. Is it worse when a blow just comes with little sound and warning? What about being a child in a school listening to one your classmates picking off your peers as they walk the halls with a semiautomatic weapon? That also seems like it would generate all-consuming terror.

One of my nephews experienced his 18th birthday recently so I was thinking about him. Naturally, The Neurons conjured Alice Cooper to the morning mental music stream (Trademark simmering) with “I’m Eighteen” from 1971. The song came out three years before my eighteenth natal day, so I had a ready-made theme song for the day.

I pondered the differences between what I was like and my life, and my young nephew. A straightforward comparison is hard to generate. Our social mediate in those days was passing notes and writing letters. Information was just beginning to emerge beyond AM/FM radio and the big three national television networks.

But I think both ages embody a sense of chaos and challenges. I think that’s so for every generation, no matter the era. We face the same issues of finding our nature and going forward as adults.

He, from my vantage, is an intelligent, poised, and talented individual. My sis, his Mum, is proud of him, and so am I. I look forward to seeing him soon. I hope he votes this year and casts a blue ballot.

Okay, I’ve boarded the coffee train. Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the rock video. Stay chill. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Goodbut

I remain on the carousel, counting days up and counting days down. So many days left in the year, so many days left till the election, the trials, the starts and ends.

I’m sitting on Tuesday, April 30, 2024. A mass of clouds, gray and big as an elephant herd, is sitting on our valley. The thermometer is sitting on 46 F. Sunshine comes and goes as clouds coalesce, shrink, and move on. We will reach 57, the weather folks declare.

“Totally unacceptable,” Papi declares, going out, and then returning. How can he do his rounds and ensure the yard is safe under these conditions? Tucker, older and wiser, eats, washes, shrugs off the weather, and joins us in the office. He settles into his bed and is so slumbering.

With Tucker’s health improving, he’s gained weight and energy. He’s also rediscovered his singing voice. He was a mezzafloofprano this morning, belting out arias for food and attention. It’s very endearing to see.

Thinking about the news, chatting with my significant other about it, we get into the ‘yeah-buts’. Yeah-buts dominate life. A situation is summarized. Or a question is asked. Etc. Then the yeah-buts arrive.

Like Hamas, Gaza, and Israel. They did this. Yeah-but the Hamas did that.

The SCOTUS said this. Yeah-but the Constitution says that. Yeah-but Alito.Yeah-but Roberts and his legacy concerns.

The weather is this. Yeah-but.

POTUS polls say this. Yeah-but Allan Lichtman says that. Yeah-but the polls. Yeah-but the trials. Yeah-but the economy. Yeah-but the Supreme Court. Yeah-but Clarence Thomas. Yeah-but Mike Johnson. Yeah-but the GOP resignations and infighting. Yeah-but.

Yeah-but enough for now. The yeah-buts are overflowing in my mind. I’m counting up and counting down.

Back in the kitchen, I went into the coffee-producing segment of my morning. BTW, my mind asks, why is it called a ‘kitchen’? A detour is made to research its roots. The usual suspects are involved: Latin, Old English, Middle English.

Okay, back to making coffee in the kitchen, where my mind sings, “For the love of coffee.” This is sung to the O’Jays’s song, “For the Love of Money”. Gleefully, The Neurons strike up the 1974 song in the morning mental music stream (Trademark brewing). I sing my version, “For the love of coffee,” and dance. Tucker watches with judgmental soicism. Papi heads to the door and yells for his release.

Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue 2024. The coffee is upon me. Here’s the O’Jays. Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: Thwumpity

thwump thwump thwump

Thwump, thwump, and away, in my beautiful, my beautiful machine.

Today calendar markers are Saturday, April 27, 2024. Tack on rainchi in Ashlandia. Rain keeps getting released. Temperatures this week have seesawed between highs in the 50s using Fahrenheit as the standard, and low forties at night That’ll continued today.

Had some squalls yesterday. My wife and I treated ourselves to dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. While we were in there eating, winds like the furies arrived. Then came some driving rain, the kind we don’t often see around here. These conditions were gone within fifteen minutes. Puddles and street gutters filled with draining water were left behind. But when we drove home, we came across sections of the city which seemed completely dry. Weirdness.

Today’s music is “Even Better Than the Real Thing” by U2. The Neurons nestled the 1992 song into my morning mental music stream as I played with story concepts while addressing my floofmeisters’ demands to be fed brekkie. Little thinking for such their breakfast deeds (food selection, bowl cleaning, heating water to add to the pate and kibble, reassure them that food is on the way). That leaves plenty o’ brain material for other matters, like writing in my head. The science I arrived at within the thinking was even better than the real thing, and there we were. Presto, the music began.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue 2024 for President Joe Biden and VP Kamela Harris. That’s my plan. Coffee has invigorated the thinking and ambulatory processes; here we go.

Here’s the music video. Cheers

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Thwumpday’s Theme Music

Mood: Melloffee

The choppers continued back and forth, up and down. Thwump thwump thwump thwump. We can hear them in the house, windows closed and all. Outside, they’re much louder. This is day four of their presence.

This is Sunday, April 21, 2024. Or with those choppers going in Sunday’s calm blue silence, Thwumpday.

The helicopters seem to start at 8 AM and go until later afternoon. They’re out there as part of the project to clean up the watershed mountainsides to make the area less attractive to fire. So yes, they are a good thing.

They’re driving my wife a little crazy, she claims. Always there, rising and falling in volume as they thwump about.

I don’t mind them. Reminds me of being on military bases. Makes me a little nostalgic.

Beyond the choppers, blue is the predominate impression with my outward gaze through the glass. Clouds are resting on the horizon but over me is sunshine and blue skies. It’s 48 F at the moment. Some rain is predicted. The high will be about 66 F, a drop from our recent forays into the seventies.

The floof boys don’t seem to mind the choppers. Seem to have adjusted to them. They don’t fly directly overhead. The first days had Papi suspicious. He’d go out there and look and look, as if he worried that they were coming for him. He has a mysterious past, you know. Who knows what mischief he did in his youth.

On to the theme music. As I perused the weather this AM, I mildly complained to myself about the lower high. We’d just been in the seventies. Now —

Want something from the seventies? The Neurons asked.

I was blank and confused. Before I could summon a response, they were playing “Whatch See Is Whatcha Get” by The Dramatics in the morning mental music stream (Trademark trending). The song was released in 1971. I always enjoyed it. It made a comeback in my mind when the personal computer age burst upon is. “What You See Is What You Get” — WYSIWYG — was a big thing with software. The Neurons would play The Dramatics song whenever I saw that on the software box or in a glossy magazine ad.

Stay positive, dress appropriately, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee is being choppered in. I hear it coming. Thwump thwump.

Here’s the music. Cheers

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