Greeting fellow humans. Welcome to the last month of the tumultuous year of 2025.
It’s Munda, December 1, 2025. 33 F at my house, though out there in Ashlandia’s sunnier spots, it’s reported to be up to 40 F. Clear skies blue with promise and bright sunshine arch over us. They’re suggesting that we’ll see the mid to upper 50s today. Yesterday never felt warm and hissed with a chill that whispered, “Winter is standing right behind you.”
Today’s music comes from dressing again. Yesterday and the previous day, I wore jeans. I told my wife I was going old school. That came from the realization that I used to wear jeans regularly and I don’t often wear them these days. Anyway from that, I laughingly sang to Papi, “Forever in Blue Jeans.” The Neurons jumped right on that and fed the 1979 Neil Diamond song to the morning mental music stream.
Trump released another trant. A trant is a text-based social media scree filled with typos, capital letters, incorrect information, and exclamation points. It’s a neologism formed from combining Trump with rant. Trant.
Dizzy Donny’s latest trant was about his misconception of Senator Kelly’s suggestion to military members to disobey unlawful or illegal orders. After releasing and deleting an error-filled version, Donny T came up with one that satisfied his low standards.
Trant #1Trant #2
Dozy Donny finishes with a capitol letter scream, “DO WHAT HAS TO BE DONE!!!” Whatever happened to “Thank you for your attention to this matter!”?
I wish the nation would do what needs to be done and remove him from office and get him therapy. But MAGAts and the GOP like this sort of *cough* leadership.
But Senator Kelly is not suggesting that military members be insubordinate or disloyal. He and the other Democrats are reminding them, as others often do, that their duty is to the U.S. Constitution and to perform legal orders.
Coffee is making its way down the esophagus to the proper places. Hope peace and grace show today but not holding my breath. Here we go, into the years final month. Cheers
All the leaves are brown and the sky is gray outside my window, today, Twozda, November 18, 2025. It’s a bleak and dark look which does little to inspire the mind, body, or spirit to move. Our present temperature is 42 degrees F but it’s gonna surge to 45. Rain? Maybe, in the realm of a quarter inch or less.
Papi the orange floof dislikes this change of meteorological circumstance. He went out several times. Dissatisfied with his experiences, he’s sulking in the living room on his favorite chair, thinking of sleeping.
I ran two miles yesterday afternoon. Felt quite good after that, all lubed up and flexible, if you will. Supremely satisfying to having pieces working in rhythm with a thumping heart, heaving chest, and dribbles of sweat finding their chaotic paths down my skin. The warm shower afterward felt oh so good. With time’s passage, I’m now permitted to wash my incision sites, and gave them the first light cleaning they’ve had since the operation on Nov. 5.
The Neurons have provided me with “Stormy” by the Classics IV from 1968 as my morning mental music stream entertainment. I felt they offered this on Papi’s behalf, as The Neurons kept repeating, “Bring back that sunny days!” I’ve gone with the 1979 Santana cover.
Trump continues pursuing an altered reality which is only accessible by putting his head up his ass. He’s joined there by people who eagerly endorses his warped ideas on humanity, civilization, and society, such as the Heritage Foundation, purveyors of Project 2025. As Heather Cox Richardson explained, it’s all about having a world for the wealthy supported by the poor. Different rules apply for the wealthy. White men have major roles in keeping it organized and civilized. Ms Richardson tells us that we’ve gone through these before, with southern ‘gentlemen’ in the mid 1800s, and such business ‘leaders’ as Carnegie and Mellon, who seemed to have very low opinions of anyone who wasn’t wealthy and didn’t think those people worked hard enough. Sound familiar? You should read the whole thing.
I don’t know if peace and grace are going to show when it’s so gloomy looking outside. I don’t really blame them, as today’s weather is not an inviting presence. I’ll make do with coffee again. Here we go, once more into the breach. Cheers
It’s Thirstda! I’m glad about it because The Neurons kept telling me that yesterday was Thirstda. I accused them of being out of sync and reality deniers, much like Trump. Man, they fumed with indignation after that, sputtering about how wrong it was for me to compare them to TACO, who is deeply and grossly embedded in an alternate reality, in The Neurons’ opinions. “We’re not like that,” they kept telling me until I finally acquiesced and gave a half-warm fake apology about being sorry for comparing them to Trump. That mostly shut them up but they still sulked for a while.
Today’s numbers are 11/13/2025 and 60/64/56 for month/date/year and current/high/low temperatures in F. Wind is busy teasing the poor trees and leaves into mad waving and racing. It’s the kind of wind that has me checking to ensure nothing has blown away. Papi came in after I’d spotted him huddled hard against something, head down. Soon as I opened that door, he bolted in. Then he gave an angry look back, like he was swearing vengeance against the wind, and launched himself into a hard house gallop. Besides the wind, it’s sunny now, but it did rain and more rain is s’posed to be dropping, even if it doesn’t look it now.
I know I mentioned it before but I will reiterate, having my gallbladder removed has left me feeling amazingly better. I sleep better, have more mental and physical energy, with better focus. I feel less angry, anxious, and emotional, and less troubled and more confident about the future. I’m wary about what I eat as I slowly re-engage a wider range of offerings while keeping the fat down, and monitor my body’s response. I do miss being able to fully exercise. While I’m jogging, I’m restricted from lifting more than 20 pounds. Pushups and planks and wallsits are all out for now.
I had two terrific dreams last night that I recall. Both had me laughing as I recalled them. As I finished working over the dreams, I want into thinking and writing my novel in my head and ‘lo, the muses came and gave the writing neurons some sweet little details to insert. It’s great when things like that work out. I’m eager to get into it later today.
Today’s music is “Blind Spot” by Bruce Springsteen.
I’m not certain why The Neurons have “Blind Spot” in the morning mental music stream. The clue might be in that chorus. “Everybody’s got a blind spot that brings them down, everybody’s got a blind spot they can’t get around.” Was I thinking of blind spots? I don’t know. It appears that the reason behind The Neuron’s song choice is…ahem…hidden in a blind spot.
You saw that coming, didn’t you?
Well, the Trump Epstein Shutdown of 2025 set a record but ended. Now we’ll see what happens with the Epstein files. There have already been some interesting emails leaked up about Trump’s involvement. May the leaks become a flood.
Hope peace and grace find us soon. Meanwhile, coffee is giving a pep talk to The Neurons about the need to be alert, active, and optimistic. Here we go, once again. Rock on. Cheers
Windy, sunny, foggy, chilly, cloudy. That’s Wenzda in a string of weather words. Also noisy with someone’s machine droning out a long song. Birds are scarce. Papi did a floofstep this AM, bouncing to the door when opened to gallop out, he slammed on the paws, and backed himself back into the house. He no like wind. The numbers for today, November 12, 2025, are 54, 56, and 52. Seriously. That’s what I was told is our current temp, and the high and low, all in Fahrenheit.
Mom is doing so much better now. While sis related that to me, she’s returned to texting with me, and they’re much more intelligent and thoughtful. She texts, “You’ll never know how much I miss Frank.” I will not, but my mind can give it some insights. They were together as a 24/7 couple for most of two decades, sharing meals and jokes, opinions and rants, tending each other when sick or recovering. I do get it but I won’t ever know all the ways he was there for her. I’m happy they were together, because I saw how happy they made one another.
As for me yesterday, I gut tested more food offerings and felt pretty confident that all was going well. At least, no overt reversals took place telling me otherwise. I call that a win. I’ve also noticed I have much higher energy levels now, sleep better, and think better. I still dream a huge amount but that’s something else. Bottom lining it, the surgery definitely was for the best.
Today’s music is “Love Runs Out”. That started in my head, “until the floof runs out.” I found Papi’s wind reaction very funny, which he, an austere cat with a measured gaze, did not find amusing. But when I chuckled about his reversal and sang a bit of half-remembered tune with my inserted words, The Neurons said, “Oh, that’s One Republic, here we go,” and delivered the melody to the morning mental music stream.
Haven’t checked the news. Enjoying the morning so much, I thought I’d give myself a reprieve before I submitted to seeing what fresh political bullshit the Trump Regime lays on the world. Far as I know, the Trump Epstein Shutdown of 2025 is still going on, and the GOP is giving a pass to Trump’s unsavory character and hiding his crimes, making them his accomplices. But hey, they got that Jesus thing going for them, right? “Who would Jesus be cruel to,” they ask themselves daily, and gleefully respond, “Everyone who is not us!” The GOP is a depraved bunch. Sure, there may be a few who are not, but given their silence and/or active participation of the GOP mass, they’re rarer than a daisy in Antarctica.
Epstein and Trump, forever together.
Coffee is serenading Les Neurons. Hope peace and grace find their way out of the wilderness and back into our lives. Meanwhile, here we go. Time to rock on. Cheers
Sunshine is blessing Satyrda, November 8, 2025. Today’s pertinent temperature numbers for Ashlandia read 56, 68, 49 for the present, high, and low, but my local system claims it’s just 46 F out there. The cat and I agree, it’s still chilly here in the shadows.
My pain is a downhill racer, going away fast. Did just one pain pill yesterday, end of day, and none today. Still just need to watch bending and stretching, coughing, sneezing, laughing. Feel that. And keep anything I pick up below 20 pounds. Having my gallbladder removed has brought out others’ stories. I appreciate them all. One local friend claims she had hers removed and didn’t change her diet at all. Sis wrote that one of her clients yesterday said he had his gallbladder removed, was hospitalized five days for it, and then had to go back to the hospital. So, it feels like it’s one of those, “individual results will vary” things. I’m on a low-diet for the next six months, according to my doc.
Today’s music comes from being silly with Papi. I sometimes sing to my cats (yes, they’re magnificently unimpressed by it). I launched into “Pappidio”, a song based on Phil Collins’s song, “Sussudio”. My song is about an orange cat on my mind. Phil’s was about a girl. Anyway, of course, The Neurons inserted the original Collins song into the morning mental music stream.
Trumpgames continue. Falling asleep at meetings. Showing no interest or concern when another human falls ill at a meeting. Making deepfake videos of himself, pretending to be something and someone he is not. Rational? No, delusional! TACO has announced the U.S. will not send anyone to the G20 summit. His decision is based on fake news. What else is new? Deep in his own altered reality, he only believes fake news these days. In his world, he’s a shiny example of health, intelligence, and leadership. In the real world, we see him and think that he’s on the verge of a total breakdown in his body, mind, and control.
Trump continues on his pardons spree. Republican and convicted? Wealthy and convicted? He’s got a deal for you if you’re a MAGA. Yet, when questioned about some of the people he’s pardoned, Trump indignantly replies, he doesn’t know who they are. We should all be doing all-cap blasts about this.
“DOZY DONNY FOUND NAPPING IN MEETINGS!!! AGAIN!!! Claims he can’t even remember people he pardoned!!! SHAMEFUL!!! DISGRACEFUL!!! Trump is the WORSE POTUS IN HISTORY!!! NOT EVEN CLOSE!!!”
Trump did get his wish for stopping SNAP benefits to starving Americans. Roberts Court stepped in his his behalf and overruled all the lower courts. Causing sickness and starvation among your own people is surely worth a peace prize, right? Right, that’s pure snark. Trump is worthy of the Nobel Cruelty Prize, if one was handed out. After threatening more war and attacking more Venezuelans, peace prizes to Trump will only be offered by other craven billionaires. Or he can make one up and give it to himself. That’s his standard speed. Fake it.
BTW, do you see how he labeled the Oval Office with a paper sign? That’s likely to remind him where and what it is. He’s failing fast.
Meanwhile, the record Trump-Epstein Shutdown (TES) of 2025 continues. The GOP is eager to shaft people on healthcare and will not budge from that position. The Democrats continue to insist that the tax break that let people pay lower healthcare premiums be reinstalled. As the economy spirals downward heading toward Thanksgiving and the end of the year, when retail takes its largest share of revenues and profits, the GOP are looking like Trump Chumps.
Speaking of which, remember these smirking Trump Chumps?
Leaks are claiming that the Epstein files info on Trump is much, much worse than originally imagined. To put this into Trumpspeak: “TERRIBLE SCANDAL!!! WORSE UNITED STATES SCANDAL EVER!!! REPUBLICANS ARE HIDING AND PROTECTING CHILD MOLESTERS!!! IF TRUMP IS INNOCENT, WHICH WE ALL KNOW HE ISN’T, RELEASE THE FILES!!! PROVE IT!!!”
Or something like that.
Off we go, into another day with hopes that peace and grace come around to lift us up. Meanwhile, I’ll make do with black coffee. Have the best. Cheers
Good morning, Earthlings. Frida has slipped through the cracks of reality to reach us again. It’s October’s last day for 2025. 49 F, we expect to top out at 62 F. Fog is cozying up around us. Our golden-leafed trees stand out like bright lanterns.
We reached home this morning at 1 AM, this time zone. We turned up the hot water heater and unpacked. My wife then took a hot bath. The two of us were in bed by 3 AM. Travel was great, both going and coming. All flights on schedule, everything on the aircraft worked for us, and the seats were awesomely comfortable. Major shoutout to the unpaid air traffic controllers and TSA who kept it all going. Another shout out to Delta. Special mentions go to the anonymous, friendly but professional and courteous young Pittsburgh TSA agent and our Pittsburgh to Salt Lake City Delta flight attendant.
My gallbladder played nice during the travels and visit. Just finished with the pre-op nurse about what to do before my surgery on Tuesday. Must call Dad today. His birthday was yesterday but I didn’t wish to call him while traveling. He was aware of that, as we’d spoken the week before.
Sister interviewed another realtor to sell Mom’s house yesterday. Also picked up Mom’s prescriptions from Sam’s Club. While there, she told the rep about Frank. He was known there and wherever Frank was known, he was enjoyed and appreciated for being friendly, easy-going, and happy. Sis updated all the records. She reports that Mom had a good day yesterday. Was very sharp. Managed to call the bank and curtail the automatic Verizon payment that was vexing us. Of course, being mentally sharp meant she was also challenging about who was in charge. Mom and sis have a contentious relationship. Dueling pistols across the room aren’t yet ruled out.
I dreamed last night that I was looking up into a yellow sky. Swirling clouds gathered and came to me like cats expecting a treat. Craning my head back and gazing into the clouds, I heard a voice tell me that the yellow sky would give me power. In honor of that, The Neurons had to come up with a song featuring yellow. Three jumped into the morning mental music stream: “Yellow” by Coldplay, a Beatles offering called “Yellow Submarine”, and that one about tying a yellow ribbon on a tree by Tony Orlando and Dawn. I mocked their efforts. They responded with “Mellow Yellow” by Donovan. That’ll play, I decided.
Our shuttle driver last night brought us up to date on the Ashland weather and major events on our ride home. She talked about the unseasonably wet but warm October we had. She added, “But let’s not talk about climate change, right? Don’t want a goon squad ambushing us for saying something the White House idiot doesn’t like.” ‘Bout sums up Trump’s second term, doesn’t it?
We’re on, what day gazillion and ten of Trump’s Epstein Shutdown of 2025. Democrats are trying to address issues and concerns. Speaker Johnson (R-Hell) refuses to, basically mocking We the People by asking, “What’s the point?” It’s all or nothing for them. Meanwhile, maybe from getting antsy over becoming unpopular, Trump suggested that Republicans nix the filibuster and just move ahead on their own. You know, ignore over half of the nation. Do what they want and move further toward an authoritarian one-party rule. Republicans quickly pushed back against that…for now. But TACO will probably start pulling out the blackmail stuff he has on them. Then they’ll suddenly be all for it. Just as we saw Senator Hawley crow about one thing in op-ed pieces and then turn around and do the crap that he just warned against doing because Trump wanted it. Just as we’ve seen so many in the past flip from calling Trump unworthy of being office to singing his praises. Guys like Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz, and Lindsay Graham. Let’s not overlook Veep JD Vance, who compared Trump to Hitler.
WASHINGTON (AP) — Mitch McConnell said after the 2020 election that then-President Donald Trump was “stupid as well as being ill-tempered,” a “despicable human being” and a “narcissist,” according to excerpts from a new biography of the Senate Republican leader that will be released this month.
Stupid. Ill-tempered. Despicable. Narcissist. That’s just the exposed part of Trump. Like an iceberg, there’s much, much, much GRRRRR-inspiring stuff about Trump under the surface. That’s why we still want all of the Epstein Files brought out. We want to see what that Smirker-in-Chief was doing with his buddy, Jeffrey Epstein.
Here’s a little floof humor for your October 31 amusement. Papi heard me play this and hurried in, looking around with that suspicious, ‘what’s-going-on’ gaze that floofs sometimes sport.
Hope peace and grace climb free of wherever they’re hunkered down and reprise their impact on our life. Till then, stay strong. Cheers
Another Wenzda has shifted in. It’s October 22, 2025. We’re getting into October’s last legs. Trees are still lively with colors. That huge old oak across the street hasn’t begun shedding yet. When it does, a blizzard of gold will fall to the winds. Meanwhile, seeing its high golden leaves up against the sky’s purest blue refreshes me, and adds depths to my contemplation of what in the world is going on. Now 46 F with the heater on in the house, sunshine, a front, and clear sky will help Ashlandia breach the low seventies today.
Mosquitoes found in Iceland for the first time, says a headline. Well, surely that’s a one off. They just had some record heat. The story says that Iceland and Antarctica were the only places without skeeters. Now there’s just the southern ice cap. I hear it’s been warming and shrinking, so set your calendars. I evaded stories about bomb threats, cars ramming buildings, and other signs of increasing unrest and violence in the U.S. With familiar weariness, I read about Trump rambling through another nonsensical conversation and temper my rage that this is accepted as okay by GOP senators and his donors and minions. I slipped past war updates from Ukraine and edged around the shooting involving a marshal, ICE, and another person, who was supposed to be ‘an immigrant’. Some flirting was done with the tale of the AWS outage that crashed parts of the web over the last several days. My heart and mind were wary of delving into those stories without coffee’s strength first.
The packing for our trip is done. Papi’s minder moves in tomorrow morning. I will miss my furry orange friend. A taxi will whisk us away like refugees in the night. Fingers crossed, etc., by this time tomorrow we’ll be aloft in one of aerospace machines, heading east for Mom’s birthday, seeing family, etc. Sis sent photos of Mom’s new lair. She included the little electric fake fireplace Mom had in her living room. Mom and Frank bought it an estate sale and were so happy with it. I know Mom will find comfort in having it on, warming the air and her heart.
Dad’s birthday is next week. Day after Mom’s, the day before Mom’s late brother, a few weeks after my late mother-in-law, and a week after my brother-in-law. Anyway, I wrote Dad a letter this morning, thanking him for what he’s done for me, telling him how much I enjoy our telephone conversations and laughing with him, etc. Afterward, The Neurons felt it appropriate to insert Dido’s song, “Thank You”, in the morning mental music stream. So here we go.
May peace and grace find their way back to us. Many wonder if they still exist. I believe it’s still being cultivated in many places where protections are in place to keep it from being smashed. Till then, roll on. Cheers
Cold and shiny Twozda Morning in October. This is 10/23/2025. 46 F in Ashland, the temperature will frolic into the low 70s with the sun’s herding. Fall’s grasp is as firm as ever, with leaves decomposing and dropping while others hang, shimmering in reds and golds.
Sis has moved Mom into her house because of Mom’s repeated falls and inability to care for herself. No one is there to help her at her house, etc. Sis meets with a real estate agent next Tuesday to pull the levers to sell Mom’s house. An estate sale is being established to sell Mom’s furniture and belongings. Not excited to return to this state, and you know what I mean. This is life. But I’m looking forward to seeing family and being in the area of my youth.
In one of Trump’s continuing rampages to show how much he hates the United States, he’s now having the physical building called the White House destroyed. As it was put in a comment on another site, I am volcanically pissed. Breathtaking arrogance. If anything proves that Trump has no sense of history and gives not a jot of shit about anything except himself, this is it. Destroying the house of We the People and replacing it with his own gaudy, cheap imitation of grandeur is disgusting and infuriating. Project 2025 is certainly well pleased and gleeful. Roberts Court is probably shrugging. They let him trample the Constitution with his overweight ego and obese body, why not allow this effrontery? Sure hope all those MAGA are happy too. Isn’t this how love for your nation is shown, by tearing down its heritage?
Approval for him falls. Disapproval for him rises. Strength to stand against him and his regime increases.
A Daily Kos post by Michael Taylor offers solid insights into the Trump Regime’s war against the United States.
Let’s talk about a magic trick. Not the kind with rabbits and hats, but the political kind, where a complex idea is made to vanish, only to be replaced by a simple, monstrous caricature. The latest magicians? Pam Bondi, U.S. Attorney General, and the broader Trump administration, who are attempting to pull off the dangerous illusion of criminalising ANTIFA.
The premise of their act is that ANTIFA is a unified, hierarchical terrorist organisation– a domestic version of ISIS – that can be neatly listed, proscribed, and its members prosecuted. This is a profound and likely deliberate misunderstanding. ANTIFA, short for “anti-fascist,” is not an organisation; it is a political belief and a movement, no more a single entity than “conservatism” or “environmentalism.”
Under cover of criminalizing a concept and calling it an organization, the Trump Regime can attempt to use all of the government’s military and police forces against United States citizens, weakly rationalizing it as part of their fight against ‘antifa’. As Taylor closes:
The real danger isn’t a black-clad protester breaking a window; it’s a government that seeks to break the foundational principle that in America, people are free to believe, and to protest, what they see fit.
Meanwhile, the Epstein Shutdown has moved into its third week, earning Trump’sthird government shutdown in five years of ‘leadership’ as the third longest U.S. government shutdown in history.
Without too much surprise, Trump’s Gaza ceasefire is as successful as Trump University, Trump Steaks, various Trump casinos and hotels, and Trump Air. Trump is a magical enshittifier.
I have The Moody Blues performing “The Story in your Eyes” in the morning mental music stream. Between conversations with Papi as I explain we’ll be going away but his favorite house sitter will be here, and thoughts of Trump’s destruction, and, well, changes in life in general, Les Neurons responded with lines out of the song.
Listen to the tide slowly turning. Wash all our heartaches away. We’re part of the fire that is burning, and from the ashes we can build another day.
May grace and peace get up and going and come around to see how we’re doing. Coffee is making itself familiar to the various body functions. Time to rock it. Time to roll it. Until the next, cheers from Trump and his smirking BFF, Jeffrey Epstein.
Sunda. October 19, 2025. Rain hissed on the roof. The house heater added a rush of air. 49 F, rain is expected all day, with a temperature that peaks at 61 F. Fog has sunk its teeth into the surrounding mountains. Leafy golds, yellows, oranges, and reds glow. Papi galloped in, threw himself down and vigorously applied his tongue to his orange fur to rid himself of that accursed wet. Then it was on to food, nom nom nom.
The No Kings II protest went well. We made it an hour late. Finding parking was a Lewis & Clark expedition. Was great being out there yesterday with other protestors, waving our signs, protesting the GOP eagerness to let Trump be king, protesting Trump’s arrogance that he should be king, protesting the general shit show Trump, Project 2025, and the GOP are putting on. Felt good to know others like us are out there, and they’re standing up. Even more satisfying and validating were the cars going by, horns blowing, giving us thumbs up, holding up peace signs, shouting, “Right on.” Only heard one “Fuck you,” and one “Sieg heil.” The latter came from a woman. Both of these disapprovers were in huge pickemups.
My greatest disappointment was that most of the protesters were old folks like us. The young were in short supply. My wife reminded me that they probably have to work and to cut them some slack. Anyway, thinking about the young provoked The Neurons to bring up a Eurythmics song, “All the Young (People of Today)”. Came out in 1981. Odd vibe to it. I thought, wow, that’s a weird one to come up with. I know it from listening to Euythmics CDs. Don’t think any radio station ever sent it to my ears.
Mom’s new habitat enclosure at sis’s house is getting developed fast. Small dorm frig has been added. A microwave. Hope Mom will be happy there, along with warm and safe. There was a whole late-night misadventure on Friday night. Mom thought she heard someone trying to get into her house and knocking on the door, calling her name. She was there alone. Hiding in her bathroom, she texted her daughters and grandchildren to call the police for her. Why she didn’t do that for herself is one aspect of the mystery. As it was after midnight, most were asleep or away from their phones. Mom’s texts went unnoticed until a grandson, Michael, saw it. Then 911 was called, etc. Police showed up, knocking on Mom’s front door. She wouldn’t answer. She was hiding in the bathroom. The police reported deer were on the small stoop outside of Mom’s room, eating off a tree by the house. 911 had to call my sister, who called Mom to tell her what was going on.
Coffee is singing to The Neurons once again. The day has grown brighter. The temperature has climbed to 50 and if you lean forward and squint at just the right angle, there’s a small blue patch struggling to break out of the cloud eggs containing it. Which reminds me. Hope peace and grace break out of their shells soon and bless us with some visiting. Here we go, on into another day, another week, another…well, you know. Cheers
Papi’s scowl said it all. The orange boi was not happy with the weather’s latest ideas. Rain, no sunshine, chilly air? That is not orange boi weather! How dare they change the weather. He looked at me to change it back. “Sorry, dude, I wish I had that power.” Although, after I said that, I’m glad I don’t. Think of the pressure that would put you under, having the ability to change weather.
Unmollified, Papi went out and sat and sulked in protest to what I was doing to him, relenting to come in after a few minutes of protesting gave me some something to think about.
This is Twozda, October 14, 2025. 45 F now under clouds that are effective sun blocks, 66 F is the dreamed of high temp for today. Don’t know if that’s possible with that quilted sky cover. Sort of a bland gray-burnt-marshmallow tone. Not pretty. Bland, toneless. I’m surprised that car manufacturers don’t jump on it. “Ugly sky”. They seem to want to offer colors which are different these days. I find many of the new colors strange. Uninviting.
Today’s song is “Burning Heart” by Survivor. I honestly lack insights into why this song this day. The Neurons started it in the morning mental music stream as I hunted down breakfast. I tried backtracking along my thinking and peered back into the dim remnants of dreams and conversations for clues but nada answered.
Coffee is percolating through my body’s systems. Time to move ass cheeks. Hope grace and peace find us. It’s my eternal hope. For today, at least. Cheers