He was coming down the hill, and the other was going up. They were on the other side of the street from one another (social distancing, you know). As they came almost parallel, each slowed, nodded, and issued greetings.

The man going down said, “How do you like your new car?”

“My car?”

“Isn’t the white Tesla your car?”

“How’d you know?”

“I live across the street from you, down one.”

“Of course. I thought it was you. I like the car, thanks. It’s different, but we’re getting used to it. How’s your arm? Looked like you broke it?”

“I did. It’s healed, but I’m still recovering. Do you have a new cat? Gray, with mittens?”

“Yes. Her name is Nezza. She’s a rescue from the shelter.”

“She looks sweet.”

“She is. Well, have a nice walk.”

“You, too.”

As each went on their way, they thought, I should have asked him his name. They almost turned around to do so, but didn’t. Maybe on another day. After all, they’d been neighbors for a few years. What difference did a name really make?

Wednesday’s Whickering

  1. Writing was so intense today. Been seeing this rainstorm for this shithole where my characters arrived. It’s a bleak, rocky place, no green, no insects or birds. There are dogs and people (and rats). I wrote the scene today, shivering behind my laptop as I imagined the cold, hard rain slamming my people. Had to pause and pace, and get more coffee to warm myself several times.
  2. Love that intensity when it happens, but it’s also a distraction. Too much writing energy builds up. Fingers and mind can’t keep up with the story-telling stream gushing out. My abs get knotted and my arms tremble. Nobody ever mentioned this at the writing conferences.
  3. Wife made this wonderful pumpkin doughnut muffins yesterday. Rolled in sugar and cinnamon, they’re like doughnut holes. Man, those things are mega excellent. Each time I go for coffee, I want to eat another.
  4. When I pause in my writing, I spy on my neighbors. They’re up to something next door. Don’t know what. He’s like that, though, quiet, rarely seen for several months, then, boom, the sudden center of crazy, with cars and peeps arriving, and things being carried back and forth, and slamming and thumping noises. He’s a nice guy but when I hear this things, my mind paints him as someone nefarious doing some devious misdeeds. Being a nice guy is always a good cover for being an evil genius.
  5. The cats and I took well to the hour fall back. I much prefer it to the spring-ahead hour change. Really rather do without either, though.
  6. Watching The Queen’s Gambit on Netflix. Really well done. The young lead actor, Anya Taylor Joy does an excellent job, but all are well-cast, and the production values are super. I’d not been aware of the novel. It came out in 1983, I read. After seeing the television show, I want to find the book and read it. It’s at my library, so I put it on my shelf. Didn’t want a hold. I’m already way behind my reading.
  7. Being behind on my reading is a constant thing. Reading stirs my writing. I enter this cycle of reading two paragraphs, write two sentences. Writing progress is made because this is in addition to my devoted writing period. Reading gets serious hampered. I’m eventually forced to focus on the reading and push to finish the book, which is a damn strange way to entertain myself, innit?
  8. I cut my hair yesterday. It’s the second pandemic cut that I’ve given myself. I think it looks good. Of course, I can’t see the back. I did what I could through feel. My wife is reluctant to cut it. I don’t know why. I have guesses but I’ll keep those shelved.
  9. Okay, got more coffee. (The pumpkin doughnut muffins were avoided.) Time to resume writing like crazy, at least one more time.

A Double-Feature Dream

Two dreams stayed with me from last night. The first was short and simple. The second was like a movie.

My wife and I came outside in the first dream. I’d helped a neighbor with something. When we came out of the house, we saw that our landscaping was trimmed, cleaned up, and weeded. We guessed that the neighbor, who had their landscaping done professionally, had their landscaper come over and take are of our lawn as a gesture of thanks. After checking it out, we went back into the house, then came back out and saw that more landscaping had been done. It looked great, and we commented on that.

The dream ended.

The next one was like a movie. I didn’t appear to be in it. It was all about a race of  dark-skinned, golden-tone people. Slim and muscular, they were beautiful.

Living in the mountains, they struck me as amazingly civilized and cultured. While I was watching them, I was torn between whether this was on Earth or another planet, and whether the people I watched were humans or another species.

With a bright, hot sun burning down on us, I followed a man and woman. They seemed to be high-ranking officials, but not the ultimate rulers. Wearing a speedo and a bikini respectively, they were on some kind of cursory inspection, talking about what had been done and what needed to be done.

As they finished, they came to the top of a tall, narrow waterfall. People swam in a pool of water stories below this vantage. As they were watching, the woman stumbled. After saying, “Oh, shit,” she began plunging over the waterfall. While that was happening, the man said, “You’ll be okay, just turn it into a dive,” which the woman was already changing her body to do. As she arced down in a graceful dive, the man continued in a conversational tone, just remember to hit the water shallow, and then angle up to avoid the steps.”

I was following the woman’s dive and saw her slip into the water, then rise up over some stairs that were under the water (she stayed underwater ), and then continued gracefully swimming.

The man said, “Yes, there, you did it. I knew you could.”

The dream ended.

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