Tag: Nirvana

Sa’day’s Theme Music

Mood: coffeelifted

We’ve punched into Sa’day, 12/14/24. The line for Ashlandia’s day is 41/46/36, meaning current-high-low. But my system’s reading informs me it’s 39 in our cut of existence. Rain is falling. It commenced yesterday and didn’t let up. Hungry gray clouds have descended, eating off the mountain and tree tops like a parent going after their kids’ holiday chocolate.

Wising up to the weather, Papi is demonstrating a willingness to be flexible about going in and out, doing less of that, opting into remaining in warm, dry shelter, i.e., le house. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) shows little interest in answering the question, “What’s the weather like out there?” He’s more inclined toward floofosphical questions like, “What’s in that bowl? What are you eating? Can I have some? Why aren’t you giving me any?” He asks these questions with bright-eyed optimism and rapt adoration. You know how it usually ends.

Went to a gospel holiday concert last night. Ashlandia’s Rogue Valley Symphony collaborated with with the Oregon Shakespeare Festival to put on a concert at the Bowmar Theater. The Florida State University Gospel Choir and their three-piece travelin’ combo — bass, drums, keyboards — were invited in, along with a soloist named Marques Jerrell Ruff. By happenstance, I ended up seated by the night’s sponsor, the guy who gave them the upfront funds to make this happen. He’s done a lot of good philanthropy work in our small town. For instance, if you ever visit Ashlanda and visit the plaza, you can check out the mural of our sister city that he and his wife commissioned. It was pleasant chatting with him about his good deeds and some mutual friends we admire.

Portion of the Guanajuato mural in Ashland, Oregon.

The concert was uplifting and fun. I definitely recommend it. Mr. Ruff and the FSU Choir are amazing singers and awesome entertainers.

It’s been a busy week and it ain’t over. Tonight is the annual Swedish Smörgåsbord at a friend’s house. Tomorrow is the Santa Claus brunch at Callahan’s on Mount Ashland. My ankle is handling most of this well, although I do reach a point toward the end where I’m ready to rip off my shoe and sock and elevate that puppy. Haven’t done that yet, despite the temptation, principally because my wife would kill me if I did.

Jill Dennison inspired The Neurons for today’s music choice. Jill is a prolific, intelligent, and insightful blogger. I admire her thinking and principles, and we frequently exchange comments. She apologized for her mood in one recent post. The Neurons responded by placing Nirvana singing “All Apologies” from 1993 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark buried). So, here’s to you, Jill.

I met coffee on a blind date in the kitchen this morning. Now I’m singing its praises. Hope your day is as excellent as circumstances allow. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Lastallday’s Theme Music

Touching a sword to the day’s shoulder, I dubbed Saturday Lastallday. I’m alluding to the smoke. Fires are on three sides. Two in California and one, Rum Creek, in Oregon. The newest is Mill Fire by Weed down I-5. It’s like bonfires lit the night out there as a burnt wood smell permeates existence and ash collects on plants and cars. Depresses the bejeesus out of me, hence the name, Lastallday, as in, I hope this air doesn’t last all day.

Bad as we have it, far worse for the people enduring the smoke and fire aspect of it. Evacuations are spreading, animals are fleeing, people are praying, and they’re losing homes and possessions. Another weary year of drought, fire, and smoke with reports coming in that it’s only going to get worse in the coming years.

Hi. Today is September 3, 2022. Sunrise lit our environment in red gold as Sol rays were given scarlet hues by smoke particles at 6:39 this morning. Not a cloud in the sky, we’re bathing in cool air, 17 C, which would be lovely if it wasn’t smoke laden. A high of 100 F is in the works before the night shift takes over at 7:42 PM.

My wife is bummed out. Lake of the Woods Resort isn’t far away. Each summer Saturday, they have a BBQ and then a southern Oregon band plays and everyone dances. We’d created a tradition of trekking up there a few times during summer to celebrate and have fun. Well, COVID holed the tradition for the last two years. This year, it just fell apart. Our June plans fell through, and now our Labor Day plans have gone kerplunk. She’s in a mood, which puts me in a mood. The blazing hot, smoky day does little to alleviate our outlooks. Hope it doesn’t last all day.

I really like that expression, ‘bummed out’. Certainly stocks my mind with interesting imagery.

I’m not much help for my wife. Focused on writing after denying myself the opportunity while other things were pursued at her behest. First, the push to stay in the military. Get that retirement. “You’ll write when you retire from the Air Force,” she told me. Then I retired in 1995 and wanted to move somewhere to make that plan so. “I have a career here,” she said, referring to her advertising employment in Silicon Valley, SF-San Jose California edition. “So I don’t want to move.” But also, I needed to work because that place is hella expensive. After a few years, her employment was over and I was embedded in corporate life, which lasted a few decades, because someone needed to bring in income. And here we are.

Yeah, I’m bitter. Sorry about the self-pity spiel. I’ll try not to do that again.

Checked on Mom. She and her partner are still recovering from COVID. Mom is on molnupiravir under an FDA EUA.

Catching note of my mood, The Neurons saw that I yearned for other times, for times in the near past when I could walk outside, breathe pleasant air and plan activities without worrying about wildfires, smoke, or COVID-19. The Neurons fished around those circulating thoughts and drew out Nirvana and “Come As You Are” from 1992. The Neurons argue that my thoughts reflect my mood of 1992, when the future looked so bright, I had to wear shades. Right.

Here’s the tune. Time to get some magic elixir in me, ye ol’ black brew, kaffee. Test negative, stay positive, and on and on and on. Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

5:49 AM, 8:44 PM. Those are today’s times for the sunshow on Saturday, 7/17/21. Rise comes first, with a lethargic unveiling. Set comes later, a gradual withdrawal. Between those times, the sun will work its heat on us. Not too bad today, upper eighties to lower nineties. Forecasts say get ready for a new rampup.

Although the Bootleg Fire and numerous others still burn, our southern Oregon’s valley air is clear and ‘safe’. Went up and down yesterday. Down in the evening, which helped make a summer concert a pleasant time. Listened to a regional band, East Main Street, play covers of the Eagles, Beatles, CSN&Y, Seals & Croft, CCR, etc. You get the feel, right? Had beer, wine, drinks, BBQ. Celebrated birthdays. Wondered how many were vaccinated. But we were outside.

Today’s music is a Nirvana song called “About A Girl” (1994). My mind brought it up to entertain and distract me as I ambled around town yesterday. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Cheers

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Hello. Today is Wednesday, the forty-second day of 2021, February 17. 2021. Sunrise struck southern Oregon at 7:05 AM. It’s an assertive sun today, shining down on increased quantities of expanding greenery. Sunset will be at 5:46 PM. All that sunshine is exciting the floofs. Two — Youngblood and Black Beauty, aka Papi and Boo — are out there soaking it up. Not Tucker, though. Today is my wife’s exercise morning (M-W-F), and he likes being in on that.

The skunk declared war on something on Monday night. We were collateral damage as the smell spilled up into the entire house. Fortunately, yesterday was sunny and pleasant (the rain they said we’d get never came). We turned off the heater and opened windows. The skunk’s scent cleared. We went out for a drive. When we returned, she’d struck again. So, do-over, and success again. Then, 9 PM, we went grocery shopping for fresh produce. When we returned…guess what? Yep, she’d struck again. Geuss she was bored or something. This time we fired up the air purifier. That worked. Last night remained skunk free.

Today’s song jumped into the mental stream out of 1992. When I woke up and was still in bed, I thought, “I’m so hot.” Then, writing in my head, I noted, “I’m so excited.” About two minutes later, I said to myself, “I’m so hungry,” and hastened to make breakfast. “I’m so ready,” followed a short while later as I made coffee and then headed in to write. That’s when the Wayback Machine activated Nirvana’s song, “Lithium”.

I’m so happy
‘Cause today I found my friends-they’re in my head
I’m so ugly, that’s okay ’cause so are you
Broke our mirrors

h/t to Metrolyrics.com

Yeah, you know how it goes, right? Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, get vaccinated, do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Someone said something about complaining. I thought, oh, boy, a new complaint.

I guess my mind’s Alexa thought that I’d requested a song with those lyrics. Next thing in my mind was Kurt Cobain shouting, “Hey! Wait! I got a new complaint.” Then it was on, and Nirvana’s “Heart-Shaped Box” (1993) was raging.

Such a dark song it is. Despite the morning’s sunshine, these feel like dark times. We were being pretty self-congratulatory about flattening the curve. Rona said, “Hold my beer.”

Out here in our little semi-rural county, we’ve seen a jump. Announcements came today that the jump was traced to a party. The original carrier was found to be from out of state.

Hey! Wait! I gotta new complaint.

I was reading about the chaos in other states yesterday. There’s little consistency between counties and cities. There’s no consistency between states or across the nation. The Golfer-in-Chief is more concerned about his rallies, convention, and poll numbers to bother about doing something decisive about the friggin’ rona.

Hey! Wait! I gotta new complaint.

In an ironic twist, the GOP, at Trump’s urging, dumped Charlotte, NC, for the convention site because, masks! Now Jacksonville, Florida, new site of the convention in eight weeks has ordered, masks!

Hey! Wait! I gotta new complaint.

Give me a little time. I’ll think of it. Here’s the music.

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Floofvana

Floofvana (floofinition) – A floof grunge (flunge) music trio formed famous for pioneering the Floofattle sound.

In use: “One of Floofvana’s early albums, Smells Like Dirty Kitty Litter, became a multi-platinum album, introducing the Floofattle sound to a global album.”

Note: Not to be confused with Floofvana, the transcendent state.

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Friday’s Theme Music

Out of the dream miasma comes Nirvana with “Smells Like Teen Spirit” (1991) – well, hello, hello, hello, how low?

I’m worse at what I do best
And for this gift, I feel blessed
Our little group has always been
And always will until the end

h/t to Genius.com

 

A denial.

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Nirfloofa

Nirfloofa (floofinition) – 1. A transcendental state humans feel when with an animal in which there is no suffering, desire, or a sense of self. 2. A transcendental state that animals enter when extremely satisfied, or high on natural herbs, such as catnip.

In use: “After sitting down and sighing to let the tension and stress of the day’s work and subsequent drive home drain out of him, the dog came over and put her head on his leg. After a few minutes of stroking the dog’s soft fur, nirfloofa came over him, and a new sigh, of satisfaction, slipped out.”

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Another week, and more mass shootings – hello, El Paso and Dayton, we’re talking to you. Chicago is overlooked; none dead in its mass shooting, just seven injured.

August has arrived with a bang. We’re expecting a week of thoughts of prayers. Sure, everyone dies, but do their deaths need to be senseless executions for the crimes of their skin, culture, ethnicity, or being in the wrong place and time when angry, hateful people acquire guns and decide to pull the trigger?

Sorry we can’t do anything about it, so, so sorry. What else can I be, but all apologies?

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Floofvana

Floofvana (floofinition) – in floofism, a transcendent state in which there is neither suffering, desire, nor sense of self, because one is with their housepets, and the world feels as perfect as it can be, at least for a moment.

In use: “Tired from working and cleaning the house, and running around on errands, she sat down on the couch. The Corgi and cat soon joined her, making room for themselves and each other on her lap. With one purring and both looking drowsy, she soon entered floofvana. Everyone should have pets, she thought. It would  make the world a better place if they did.”

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