Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I was sitting somewhere, familiar to me in the dream, but unfamiliar to me in real life. Several acquaintances came up and chatted with me. On a white wall to my left were six pieces of art. One woman asked, “What are those.”
I explained that they were books in progress with a smile, that needed to be finished. She selected one, took it down, and started flipping through it. Suddenly she started. “That character has my name.”
Yes, I acknowledged. “You were in mind when I named the character.”
She continued through the pages. “I like this. You should finish it.”
I nodded. “That’s the plan.”
She passed the piece to another person who asked for it. The second person went through it and said, “I like this, too.”
She handed it to me. I flipped it open and began going through it, then stopped. “I know how this ends. It just came to me.”
Both stared at me. “It just came to you?” one asked. “Just like that?”
“Yes. I’m going to finish this now.”
I spent the rest of the dream writing and rewriting that book. It took some weird turns. At one point, I stopped to watch golfers. Green, brown, and orange golf balls were in use, and they were playing on a mountain, hitting the balls down toward greens in valleys far below. After one teed off, the watching gallery emitted a long and low moan of appreciation and then began hitting golf balls down into the valley.
“What are they doing?” a woman seated with me asked.
I smiled. “They’re hitting golf balls down. I think they’re supposed to help locate the original ball.”
“How?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
I went back to work on the book. Sometimes as I worked on it, the print on the page was purple. Other times, the pages flared in bright purple. Yes, purple prose came to me in the dream, to giggles.
By the dream’s end, the novel was finished. I awoke very satisfied.
We’ve made it through another cycle, and we’re set up to repeat it again. I mean the week, of course. Today is May 26, 2025. The month is singing its last notes. Many associate Memorial Day in the U.S. with the beginning of summer. I’m a traditionalist, though, and recognize summer’s start with the June solstice, as we’re north of the equator. The weather doesn’t care what we’re calling the season; it’s gonna do as it wants. Today, it looks like it wants more cloudiness baking with some sunshine. 60 F now, we’re be roaming the seventies through the late afternoon.
My bright mood has expired. Darkness has soldiered in. That’s my standard cycle. I just need deep breaths and patience to survive it, and then more normal moods will rotate in, and it’ll be up and down again for a while. That’s me.
In other cycle news, Jamelle Bouie’s opinion piece of May 24, 2025, recounted the Conservative routine: the promise of tax cuts which will strengthen the economy.
“With each new Republican administration, it is the same promise. With each round of tax cuts, it is the same result: vast benefits for the wealthiest Americans and a pittance for everyone else. There is little growth but widening inequality and an even starker gap between the haves and have-nots.“
Reagan promised tax cuts in 1981. Bush Senior was forced into tax increases to address the damage done by Reagan’s cuts. Dubya promised tax cuts, and then Trump in 2017, and now Trump in 2025. Each time those cuts came, the economy did not do better. It took Democrats in charge to clean up the economic mess and get the economy on track again. And here we go again. Will it work this time when it failed every other effort? Time will tell.
But as Mr. Bouie writes of this latest effort:
We are now looking at another round of Republican tax cuts. Yet again the claim is that this will benefit most Americans. “The next phase of our plan to deliver the greatest economy in history is for this Congress to pass tax cuts for everybody,” Trump said in his March 4 address to Congress. But as Paul Krugman points out in his Substack newsletter, this latest package is both a shameless giveaway to the rich and a ruinous cut to safety net programs for lower-income and working Americans.
Today’s song comes from reading about the viral corruption spreading under the Trump Regime. Out of that GRRRRRRRRRR news review, The Neurons dropped “Perry Mason” by Ozzy into the morning mental music stream. Perry Mason is a fictitious lawyer of high repute. He saved the innocent and delivered the guilty for a serving of justice. He came onto the scene in a series of Erle Stanley Gardner novels in the 1930s and joined the pop culture as a television show starring Raymond Burr in the 1950s and 1960s. Yes, I know of the later series. Anyway… Ozzy Osbourne put some words to music by guitarist Zakk Wylde and keyboard player John Sinclair. The song’s chorus goes,
Who can we get on the case?
We need Perry Mason
Someone to put you in place
Calling Perry Mason again
Again
h/t Genius.com
Yep, we need Perry Mason…again…to ferret out all the illegal antics pushed by the Trump Regime and get us some justice.
Rock on into the new week. Coffee is putting me on its shoulders one more time. Here we go. Happy Memorial Day to my fellow Americans. Cheers
I wonder if they’ll ‘reboot’ the James Bond movies by re-making them.
Will there be a female or trans 007? I know a Black 007 has been discussed.
Oh, sorry, I remember that Casino Royale was considered a reboot, and that several subsequent movies have been called ‘reboots’. I don’t get that. Guess what I was/am thinking about are ‘remakes’. Will they remake, for example, Goldfinger?
Wonder what other films could be remadeand how they would be changed? Would anyone dare touch The African Queen, Citizen Kane, Gone With the Wind, or The Godfather?
I watched the first Murderbot on Apple. I was disappointed but I seem to be in a minority. I never heard/saw Murderbot as a male, and the character’s dry disparaging humor seems to be absent. Well, IMO.
I so dislike questions about my favorite. I don’t care about the object: book, pie, food, beer, wine, music, movie…you get it. I don’t declare absolute favorites. I can’t speak for others but IMO, my favorites often slide along a spectrum that’s driven by mood and, or, circumstances. Sometimes memories float up and a song comes on, such as Tom Petty, “Running Down A Dream”, and I think, yes, this is my favorite song. But in another place and time, another song, such as “Us and Them” by Pink Floyd, or “Zombie” by The Cranberries or “Get It On”, is played and it strikes the note for the moment, finding a bit of sympatico with my soul.
I swing the same way with food and beverages. While I have regulars I turn to, they’re not necessarily the favorite. Same with movies — “Unforgiven”, “Bladerunner”, “This Is Spinal Tap”, “Men In Black” — and books — “Catch 22”, “Catcher In the Rye”, “Lincoln in the Bardo”, or series like the Murder Bots or Chronicles of Amber. Novels…authors…genres…
If I have an absolute favorite in anything, it’s
Scenes hang in my mind, waiting to be unfolded. A line or two or three is written. A pause to contemplate them is embraced. More lines come, get written. The growing new scene is reviewed, lightly edited. More lines come, more gets written.
Sometimes, the pause gets extended. I surf into news articles and others’ posts. Then a muse spears my attention and I jump back to the scene being written. Lines are added. They stack into paragraphs. Paragraphs stack into pages. I review what I wrote and lightly edit.
That scene is eventually done. The next one is considered and plotted in my head. I approach again. A line or two or three is written. So it goes.
Meanwhile, muses ambush me with a new concept. I’m reading a non-fiction article about glaciers. The concept harpoons my mind. I grin with delight and think, oh, wow, that would be fun. An opening scene begins unfolding.
I open up a new doc to capture the first lines. Scenes are written. They turn into chapters and branch into a structure’s glimmerings. I think, this will be my next project. I rummage around my brain for a title. A tentative one is hauled out. Rejected. Another bubbles up. Acceptable. More is realized and written. The working title is modified. The quick, sudden progress surprises me. This will definitely be fun to write. But first, the other novel in progress must be finished.
I close the document. Return to the work in progress. A line or two or three is written. I’m close to the end. Close to tying it all up and saying to myself, finished.
So it goes.
My wife returned my library card to me, and delivered two books. As she was going to the library, she offered to pick up two books for me. I’d put them on hold and they’d come in.
“I want to read your books,” she announced.
I shrugged. “Go ahead.”
“No, I already have a train of books to read. I just — your books look interesting.”
The subjects of her book envy are The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang and The River We Remember: A Novel by William Kent Krueger.
Book envy. It must be the most benign of all envies.
I was on my back for two weeks, foot in the air, recovering from surgery. Access to the net was limited to my phone, television, and iPad mini. It’s a laugh, isn’t it? A real first world blues statement to say how much I was limited and then share how much access I actually enjoyed. It’s a position of privilege.
What I meant and I should have written, I wasn’t able to sit down at will and jump on the ol’ laptop and do my usual surfing and posting and reading. I’m very much an organic, stream of consciousness, writer, though.
Anyway, modern television is an abomination to me. Just my tastes. I’d turn on and surf channels. We don’t have cable or satellite (again, my privilege talking), but have a smart TV with net access and an over-the-air digital antenna. I was amazed by the number of shows like “People’s Court” and “Judge Judy” are out there. We’re a copycat society. Startling number of shows about pawn shops and towing businesses, too. The standard American AM talk shows still exist, spouting vapid enthusiasm about cultural trends, getting serious for a minute of weather and five minutes of news before going back to the giggles about “Wicked” or Billy Bob Thornton.
So I read and slept and binge-streamed old favorites, along with one new one, “Band of Brothers”. Two of books were older novels I’d purchased at used-book stores on whim. These were “Down River” by John Hart and “Utopia” by Lincoln Child. Both are page turners, with the former firmly entrenched as a well-written potboiler to my mind. Love that expression, ‘potboiler’. The other was a new Jackson Brody novel by Kate Atkinson. I’m a JB fan, and a KA fan, as is my wife, so she went on the waiting list, got it for us, and let me read it first.
I enjoy how Atkinson has aged Brody. He used to see himself or get discussed as a protector of women. Now he found himself being judged by a court of women. He’s less driven, more reflecting.
What’ve you guys been reading? Probably more recent stuff, right? Amazing number of excellent books out there, waiting to be devoured.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 