I’m walking around on a writing break. The right side of my sinuses are unhappy. A little clear fluid from my nostril keeps me dabbing it. There’s pain in the sinus.
I’m considering the views as I walk. Sheer curtains of off-color air are being lowered over the brown mountains across the valley on the north and the tall, green-filled southern mountains.
Back at my computer, I blow my nose and check Purpleair. Yes, we’ve gone from ‘good’ numbers into the triple digit territory of ‘bad air that’s unkind to sensitive people.’ I paraphrase.
Depressing. We’d been on a such a good run. What’s causing this new issue? There’s a smell out there assaulting me.
I read that an air quality warning was issued just before 11 AM. We’re already under a high heat warning.
The day is turning a corner and going in an ugly direction.
We’re at the beach today. We rented a house in Waldport. The back fronts the ocean but has several hundred feet of sand dunes between us and the waterline.
I was sitting on the back patio, looking over the dunes, watching the distance waves when three young women trudged up the beach over our dunes. My inherent geezer kicked in. “You kids get off our dunes,” I shouted, shaking a fist.
No, not really. I just raised my glass of wine in their general direction.
News stories scan make me blanch. Yes, of course there are feel-good Olympic stories. News outlets thrive on those. They sell clicks and papers and increase viewership. People want to feel good about the world. They don’t want to read of a school bombed in Gaza City with nearly 100 killed. And they want to turn away from the Trumpstorm that is the 2024 GOP campaign. Weird describes their candidates and also describes some of the base, but what describes the rest?
Baby formula recalls, Venezuela, Elon Musk, X.
Here, we’re dealing with wildfires and smoke pollution. Wildfires are being fought not just all over Oregon but California, Wyoming, Washington, Idaho, Colorado…that’s just the tip.
This is Saturday, August 10, 2024. There are less than 90 days until the elections.
It’s 62 F. We’ll see our average and usual high today, 92 F. Good. The air is low moderate again, and I can see the mountains and blue skies today.
A dancing outing is planned for Lake of the Woods Resort. The air is checked. Not good. Discussions are engaged: should we still go?
Time to start a new theme week. The idea of going out dancing brought up a bunch of songs for The Neurons, so that’s this week’s theme: dancing. One of their favorites, now circulating the morning mental music stream (Trademark burning) is a 1983 fast-tempo beat by the Pointer Sisters called “Neutron Dance”. Point of order for The Neurons: this is not “Neuron Dance”. Yes, that is how they hear the lyrics, but that doesn’t change the truth.
Though coming out of the techno 1980s, it’s a song for the current era. Themes like homelessness — “The rent is due, I got no place to stay.” Weariness: “It’s hard to say just how some things never change and it’s hard to find any strength to draw the line.”
don’t wanna take it anymore I’ll just stay here locked behind the door Just no time to stop and get away ‘Cause I work so hard to make it every day
[Chorus] And it’s hard to say Just how some things never change And it’s hard to find Any strength to draw the line Oh, I’m just burnin’ doin’ the neutron dance (Ah, ah, ah) I’m just burnin’ doin’ the neutron dance
[Refrain] Whoo-ooh (Whoo-ooh) I’m on fire, yeah I’m on fire, yeah
[Chorus] And it’s hard to say Just how some things never change And it’s hard to find Any strength to draw the line Oh, I’m just burnin’ doin’ the neutron dance (Ah, ah, ah) I’m just burnin’ doin’ the neutron dance
Let’s all sing it and dance. h/t to Genius.com for the lyrics. Easier to copy than typing them all out.
Stay positive — I now, I’m one to speak — be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue. Coffee and I have met up on a drink day. Here’s the video. Cheers
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.
It was a grim task set before me. I, not a fan of tasks and less enamored of those tasks of the grim variety, didn’t relish taking it up. But duty, right.
All were assembled around the table. Leaning forward so they could see me, looking around, I loudly said, “I have a question for you.” I waited for silence, which came fast and cast another check on their attention; all were regarding me. “Do you wear socks in the shower?” I asked.
Staring followed, then questions. What, what are you talking about, and say that again was heard among the ten facing me, along with some sputtering, uncertain laughing.
“Do you wear socks in the shower?” I repeated.
“No,” several responded, and then a few inquired, “Why are you asking that?”
“Well, my wife read an article about bizarre things people from different states do, and she read that people in Oregon like to shower with their socks on. Then she asked me, ‘Have you ever heard of this?’ No, I told her. She said, ‘I’ve never showered with my socks on, but I don’t shower.’ I told her, ‘I shower, but I don’t wear my socks.'” Then we talked more and realized, maybe people do this but don’t talk about it because it’s a normal routine for them, so they see no need to speak about it. So, I said that I’d ask you guys, my beer group.”
“No,” all chorused, fully laughing now. “None of us wear our socks in the shower.”
Satisfied that the grim task was done, I sat back and sampled my ale. It was very good.
Rivers of black and white clouds roil and move, splitting the sky into islands of blue. It’s Friday, but the weather doesn’t care. 47 F so not bad from the temperature aspect although it does feel like 40, they tell me (I could of sworn it feels like 38 but whatever), but it’s rainy and windy, with the sun bobbing in and out of cloud cover.
This is February 3, 2023. Ashlandia’s high temperature will be (check checking) 50 degrees F. We’re trending warmer this week, with no lows below freezing and highs hanging around the mid 50s until Wednesday. The overnight low will drop to 28 that day, and it’ll rain. The sun made its rise over our mountainous horizon this morning at 7:22 and will skate away from Ashlandia’s sky at 5:28 PM.
The state is slipping and sliding through the mechanism of producing and selling magic mushrooms here. Yes, one is available. After psilocybin was voted to be used as a legal hallucinogen in Oregon, the legislature gave the counties and cities the opportunity to opt out or hold a two-year moratorium on doing anything with the new situation. My state and city didn’t opt out. They’re not doing anything about it yet, as psilocybin is still illegal on the Federal level. Marijuana was in the same situation when Oregon went legal with it for recreational uses as well as medical. It still is Federally illegal, but the Feds let the states enforce the situation for the most part, and more states have opted for legal recreational marijuana use. We’re now at the stage where the state is going to address the legal situation and law enforcement for possession and use of psilocybin with the Biden administration. Although other actions are being taken in parallel to this, the handshake between the Federal and state levels of law enforcement is a huge aspect.
Marijuana growing and sales has worked out well for Oregon, in a general sense. The largest problems are water and illegal cultivations by gangs that moved up here from down south. We’re addressing both. I’m pleased with marijuana and psilocybin being made legally available as it helps many of my friends who endured severe trauma and injuries in their jobs, either in the military, as police officers, or fighting fire. These drugs help them deal with pain and PTSD.
The Neurons have several songs going in the morning mental music stream. Two are by Ozzy Osbourne. He’s been in the news with health matters and the announcement that his touring days are done so naturally Les Neurons picked up on him and his music and plugged it into my head. The other song is “Livin’ on the Edge” by Aerosmith, from 1993. That’s the one, I decided. “Livin’ on the Edge” is Friday’s theme music.
Coffee has arrived and been consumed while it was hot. Time to move along, little doggies. Stay positive and enjoy Friday and all the days which follow.
We’ve come to Friday. Full stop. What else needs said? Everyone has a Friday sense, a feel for what Friday means for them. We do that with every day, though, depending on schedules and activities, wants and needs, desires and confusion, determination and goals.
Rain is falling on this Oregon coast August 19th. The sun’s reappearance was dampened by clouds but still took place at 6:23 this morning. Turning away from Sol — which often invokes Pink Floyd and someone singing, “On the turning away” — takes place at 8:19 this evening. By that time, we’ll expect to be at 67 F, a small jump from our current 16 C. They say it feels like 60. Whatever, it’s loaded with soft salty fishy oceany fragrances sprinkled with dirt, sand, and asphalt, along with plant smells. Know that melange? It’s a relaxing scent to inhale, one that unfolds the soul and pours out cares, at least for a little while. It also invokes memories for me, of where I’ve been, my present intersection of time, space, and being, and the final leg, who I am. Cue The Who, “Who Are You”.
Falling rain means Elvis Presley for The Neurons, today, though. They could have gone with Blind Melon and “No Rain”, I suppose, but no, they have “Kentucky Rain” (1970) circumambulating my morning mental music stream. Why? Silly one, The Neurons don’t explain their processes and decisions. Perhaps that’s only me. Your Neurons might be much nicer. Well, my neurons are nice, just as wild and free as a clowder of kitties chasing dandelion seeds on the wind.
Here’s the music. Stay positive and test negative. I must go on a coffee quest. (Yes, now The Neurons have folded “The Impossible Dream” into the morning mental music mix.)
Good morning. Today is Tuesday, August 24, 2021. We’re into August’s last legs. September begins next week. Autum will take over in a few weeks. 2022 is hurtling toward us with comet speed.
Sunrise and sunset are 6:28 AM and 8:08 PM, respectively. Temps are lower. Just 60 F now. Expect mid-80s by the mid-afternoon.
We’re back to reality. Back home. In Ashland. Spent a week on the Oregon coast. Drove home yesterday. Coming south/east, smoke took over as the dominate feature, rendering trees and mountains into sketchy outlines, killing breathability, locking out blue sky and sunshine. Oregon, 2021: another year of smoke.
Yardwork needs tending. I’ll put on a mask and do it, though philosophical reservations pummel me. Is having a pretty yard really so critical when attaining it means risking your health. Hell, no, of course not. But, property values, the marketing forces reply. Image and impressions. Some suggest, hire someone. Sure, take advantage of another’s weak financial security and force them to sacrifice their health. Makes sense. Ah, but their choice, right? And they need the money. And there is capitalism’s doom loom in its essence.
The boys — Tucker, Boo, and Papi — are happy to have us back. Lot of love time spent with each yesterday. Heads were scratched. Purrs were issued. Comforting was done.
Had the Animals song, “It’s My Life”, in my mental music stream this morning. “Comedown” by Bush. Then Duran Duran replaced those with “Ordinary World”. Somehow, Lost Frequencies came through from 2015 with “Reality”. Just a matter of words with this light tune, really:
Decisions as I go to anywhere I flow Sometimes I believe, at times I’m rational I can fly high, I can go low Today I got a million, tomorrow I don’t know
Stop claiming what you own, don’t think about the show We’re all playing the same game, waiting on our loan We’re unknown and known, special and a clone Hate will make you cautious, love will make you glow
Make me feel the warmth, make me feel the cold It’s written in our stories, it’s written on the walls This is our call, we rise and we fall Dancing in the moonlight, don’t we have it all?
Yes, I’m all over the map this AM. Happy to be home. Sad to be away from the ocean. Relieved my fur friends and home are okay. Appalled by the state of the air, the extended drought, the multitude of wildfires. Depressed by the break in routine, the inability to saunter to a coffee shop to write (see Air Quality, COVID-19 restrictions), humble that I have a life where I can make such choices.
Reality can be great. It can also suck. At the same time.
Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask as needed. Get the vax. Have some coffee. Or tea. Wine. Whatever. Enjoy the music. Cheers
The consequences of the Almeda Fire (yeah, not ‘Alameda’), as it’s been declared, are rippling out. It’s named after the little street where the grass fire was first reported. The air is surprisingly clear, declared green by AQI, with a rating of 46, but a smoky odor teases you like a strong memory.
My little town, Ashland, Oregon, was where it started. We suffered some losses of homes. The area to the northwest suffered much more.
A trailer park is gone. Fast food restaurants and homes are gone. A winery.
Continuing into Talent…much of the northern side burned. The Camelot Theater is gone.
On into Phoenix…
Most news services are declaring that the small town of Phoenix, population of forty-five hundred, is gone. The primary road into town is blocked off, so confirmation is yet to come, but Youtube videos taken during the night attest that Phoenix suffered. Information is spotty, as the news services cope with elections, COVID-19, wildfires across the western US, and the snow in Colorado. We’re hampered locally as reporters had to evacuate their homes and the fire burned through a cable affecting at least one service provider. Some early reports said it was a local ISP called jeffnet, but others say it was Spectrum. Maybe it was both.
Those who bundle everything — television, phone, Internet — to one provider suddenly found they weren’t receiving the local emergency alerts, a new consideration offered for you the next time that you’re debating you options.
The fire continued into south Medford, about fifteen miles up the Interstate. That section of city was evacuated, along with the
Damage reports continue seeping in. So many fires are burning that the area lacks the resources to combat them. While towns and cities this part of Jackson County are fighting this fire, a larger fire is consuming another part of the county to our northeast. The county to the west is battling its own blazes, as are towns further north in Oregon. Little help is available.
The wind has abated. This is good news. Cooler temperatures are prevailing, the low nineties, but it’s going to increase again tomorrow and continue to get hotter the rest of the week.
Michael Seidel, writer 