Tag: pop

Twosda’s Theme Music

At 4:07 AM, the cat announced, “Let’s go!” Yes, he batted and chatted me awake enough to sleep walk to the door and release him back into the wild. He didn’t stay in the wild long. Cold, wind, and hunger drove him back in. “Not that wild, are you?” I asked him. He meowed back.

Thus began Twosda, April 22, 2025, much as many other days begin. Twosda and Thirstdas are the worse for me in this regard. My wife gets up early on Mun-Wen-Fri to attend exercise class. She deals with the cat between 6:30 and 8 AM on those days. But today has Papi testing the limits, in and out. I suspect he has two twins and they’re taking turns at this.

It was 39 F at 4:30 AM. If you trust Alexa. I asked it the temperature after Papi came back in. I was curious because it felt cold to my half-naked body. Like Sun & Mun, today features a clear blue-sky sauce and a glaze of sunshine with a tincture of wind and mild temperatures that lose their punch in the mid to upper sixties.

Trump continues to pile instability on instability, crazy on crazy, losses on losses. Like all great leaders, he sets ridiculous goals using ideologically-driven data, fails to take many details and factors into account, and then pretends it’s going great as everyone else prepares to get out the toilet plunger because this shit is overwhelming the crapper. He is consistently terrible and proud of it. Living in a Teflon-coated bubble, he’ll probably never recognize his insanity and the disastrous, negative impact he delivered to millions of people.

Unless, of course, his secret goal is to completely undermine and destroy the United States. That’s also possible. He could well be in collusion with Russian and oil oligarchs and are busy setting the table up to establish a powerful global cabal. Makes as much sense as any other shit he spreads.

They say that the Roberts Court is finally getting a backbone. “They’ll reign Trump in.” Ha. I think Trump is already smirking at the Roberts Court as he says, “Hold my Big Mac.” Harvard and other universities are suing the Trusk Regime. He doesn’t care. He’s already destabilized and disrupted our education systems and research programs. A third of the national NOAA weather offices have lost their leases. We’ll see what that does to the ability to warn about weather disasters. Then, Trump and Noem have been dismantling FEMA, so when these disaster squat on communities and drop a load, the state and community will struggle to recover and rebuild. Meanwhile, DOGE is raiding personal data and will probably weaponize that on behalf of Russia. He’s truncated international alliances and friendships that effectively worked for over half a century, isolating our nation. Besides all that, he’s been running due process over with a golf court.

And Trump and his supporters think this is just great. Anyway…onward.

When I first heard this Led Zeppelin song when I was thirteen, I thought, holy fucking shit. That was a startling development because I’d never sworn before that. That’s when I took up coffee, too. It all seemed to go together.

The song — “How Many More Times” — is in my morning mental music stream for reasons which The Neurons have sealed. They have better security than Kristi Noem and keep secrets more effectively than Pet (Pete) Hegseth. Not saying much, given how terrible and sloppy the Trump Regime has demonstrated itself to be, outside of the Musk-driven DOGE dogs.

Here is the music. When I listened to it today, my inner thirteen-year-old sat up and said, “Holy fucking shit.” This is a recording of a live show. Anyone familiar with Zep knows it’s gonna be a jam and will vary a bit from what was on the album.

Coffee has again insinuated itself into my body’s systems. I’m prepared to rock another day, at least until nap time later today. Hope your day is as purpose-filled as you need it. Carpe diem. Cheers

2

Munda’s Theme Music

My body and mind were unanimous. More sleep was wanted. Yesterday was busy with an Easter Brunch. We’d been preparing all week. 10:15, we set off to go help with setup. By 11:30, all were there. A smorgasbord awaited. Mexican quiche, salmon with asparagus, salmon and cream cheese rolls. Dutch babies and lemon cake for dessert. Salads. Juices and libation to make it chippier. Easter egg hunt and korn hole. A half dozen present shared their latest stories about demonstrating against Trump in Ashland and Medford. 2 PM, it was all over.

Over to a friend’s house for his 93rd birthday. Just family and my wife and I. He has health issues and didn’t want a gathering. After singing the birthday song, witnessing the candle blowout, and visiting for two hours, we headed home to unpack and wash everything.

Blue skies were the day’s order. Light wind kept it from becoming too warm. 69 F was the tops. Today seems like it looked over yesterday’s shoulder and copied the weather.

I reminded my body and mind that sleeping in wasn’t an option. Today is Food & Friends deliveries. Crank up the car, pick up the food, and roll through the streets on route 3 to knock on doors and ring bells and drop off a small meal in southeastern Ashlandia. I’m the driver; my wife makes the deliveries.

Then, finally, it’ll be back to writing at the coffee shop for a few hours, and then home to wash clothes and attend yard work. The grass and weeds are gladded by the sunshine. It’s all shooting up fast.

Papi is beside himself with happiness by the time the air warms. It’s rolled up to 49 F now. He heads outside and sniffs out the sunshine. Then wind sniffs him out and he’s back in. It’s a never-ending game of ‘In & Out’!

The mountain air loads the night with temperatures that dribble down into the mid thirties. That temp feels colder. But we’re on the regular Ashlandia spring track. Only troubling thing is we’re not seeing any bees. They’re normally all over the place with their buzzing presence. Their absence disturbs.

Yesterday’s Easter Trump dump again illuminated his pathetic ways. That vitriol and lie-filled text mess is a sign of an insecure, demented, ignorant person. Trump’s dark forces again rose to show what a sinister and ugly place the United States is becoming under his hand as two young and wholly innocent German tourists were detained and deported, all for the crime of not having accommodations already reserved. Such fools are now in charge. Then there’s Trump’s undocumented bullshit broadside against Abrego Garcia. WTF, United States. Is this truly your vision?

With those thoughts spinning through my groovy organic thought machine, The Neurons spun up Aerosmith in the morning mental music stream: “Same Old Song and Dance”. Last time I used this ditty was in 2019. Trump occupied the White House then. I wrote back on that day,

Reading the news yesterday and today, I was shaking my head, partially laughing while crying. You know, it was the same old story.

That led to me streaming Aerosmith.

It’s the same old story
Same old song and dance, my friend
It’s the same old story
Same old story
Same old song and dance

It was an easy song to identify with when I was a teenager and the song was released. When you asked questions, you often heard, “That’s just how it is. That’s how it goes.” It was always the same old song and dance, no matter what you were asked.

So here we go. Trump is attacking and bullying whatever he can — law, courts, common sense, history, morality, it’s all open to a Trump attack. He’s like a puppy gnawing on clothes, shoes, and furniture. Nothing is safe from his brainless chewing. A puppy does far less damage, though. A puppy will grow out of it. Trump, with his deteriorating and aging mental capacity, will get worse.

Same ol’ story, same ol’ song and dance.

Have the best day you can, my friend. Fueled with coffee, I’ll rock on for another day, it seems. Cheers

2

Saturda’s Theme Music

Spring has sprung for loads of pastels in Ashlandia. Enjoy it while you can. Summer is rocketing toward us. For today is Saturday, April 19, 2025. It’s 62 F and feels colder due to cloud cover. Those clouds menace with rain, but the weather seers say that isn’t the case for us in Ashlandia today. Instead, it’ll stay mostly cloudy with some sun and spring up to 71 F.

The weather displeases the cat. Giving up on consistent sunshine and warmth, he’s accepted shelter in the living room where he resides on the Malabar chair. This is his favorite site. He does move around and can surprise us with his location.

Fer instance, I awoke at 4 AM. Did I hear something? Was it the cat?

The bladder said, “Hey, I can use a break.”

Grumbling about giving my bladder a break in the middle of the night, I used the required facilities. My mind was awake enough to wonder if the cat was in or out. If he was out, did he want in?

I looked around the bedroom, dining room, hallway, and living room. No cat in sight. He wasn’t at the front door. I changed direction for the backdoor. As I walked, I became aware of a padding noise at my side.

“Where do you come from?” I asked the cat.

He rushed to the door. “Let me out.”

Today’s song offering comes out of my mind’s old song vault. The Neurons pulled it up after I read news stories and wondered if I was in the right reality. Sometimes I think that someone pulled the old switcheroo on me and changed reality without telling me. Maybe they’re doing this as a prank. It’s not funny to me, but I can see how others could be secretly watching and laughing. Maybe aliens did it. They were tired of abducting and probing us, so now they’re switching realities on us. It could explain a lot.

Aware of these thoughts, The Neurons dragged out “Unreal Reality” and dropped it into my morning mental music stream. This is a song by The Kinks that came out in the 1960s. I’m surprised The Neurons could find it.

Here are the words. Feel free to sing along. It’s an unusual piece for rock ‘n roll. h/t to Lyrics.com

All that I see, seems so unreal to me, 
Is it the truth or is it only fantasy, 
Is it a dream or is it unreal reality? 
All around me is such unreality, 
Optical illusions as far as my eyes can see, 
Is the whole thing a fake, or the ultimate reality? 
That house is so big that it reaches right up to the clouds 
It's got hundreds of windows, so the people inside can look out, 
And they look down below and wonder what it's all about. 
Look at that lady she got silver all over her face, 
Is she a human being or a creature from outer space, 
Is she authentic or phoney, I guess it's just a matter of taste. 
Oh because they can feel it, it's gotta be the real thing, 
Because they can touch it, it's gotta be reality. 
If they say it's real, it's gotta be the real thing. 
See that fella, looking all spick and span, 
Is he a tailor's dummy or is he a real man, 
Is he genuine, or straight off the assembly line. 
All round me is such unreality, 
Optical illusions as far as my eyes can see, 
Is the whole thing a fake or the ultimate reality? 
Is it a dream, or is it the real reality?

Reality or not, the coffee is in me, summoning energy from the depths of my being, which, admittedly, are pretty shallow. Hope your reality works out well for you. Here we go, one more time. Cheers

0

Frida’s Theme Music

The morning was spent texting with Mom. She prefers texting these days over phone calls. She had a day of doctor appointments yesterday and provided summaries. They’re going to work on her balance with physical therapy. That’s good news to me.

Her fiance’s son and my sister both approached Mom and her fiance about moving into assisted living. They did these separately. I don’t know if they coordinated their attempt.

It would be less dangerous to poke a hornet’s nest with a stick a few times. Mom and her beau are adamant against moving to a home of any kind other than the one where they live. He’s 95 and has difficulties seeing and hearing. She’s 89 and has mobility, heart, and balance issues. She copes with those problems via a massive regimen of medications, vitamins, minerals, lotions, and equipment. The house was built during WW II and has steep, narrow steps. But Mom loves her house, and her companion is happy living there.

Observing the health issues and the home debate always prompts conversations with my wife. “What will we do?” she asks. “I don’t know,” I say. I’m not looking forward to dealing with it.

It’s Frida, April 18, 2025. Good Friday, I suppose. 63 F, sunny but windy. A high of 74 F is in the works. I don’t think we’ll see that. 68 F was projected yesterday but the thermometer quit advancing at 64 F.

The cat has expressed his irritation with the wind. He applied to my wife and I to change it. My wife patiently explains, “I’m sorry, we can’t do that. Here, have a treat instead.”

He was spoiled via several treats. Then he came to me for his standard four-course breakfast. Two of the courses are treats that hide his meds in them. The thorough feeding does take his mind off the wind. The next time I see him, he’s going through his post-eating pre-napping grooming on the bed.

I have read several news articles. Some dealing with politics and rulings against Trump please me. On the whole, though, it’s another heavy serving of disappointing developments. After hearing my GRRRRRRRRR rising in my throat, I order myself to go do other things.

Today’s theme music is a beer group relic. I met with my beer group last Wednesday. The friends beside me began a conversation about popular music and what they listened to when they were young. One commented that some lines were going through his head, but he couldn’t recall the rest. I recalled the rest for him. The song is “I Think We’re Alone Now” by Tommy James and the Shondells. Conversation then swirled in other hits by the group, such as “Crystal Blue Persuasion”. Now The Neurons have those two tunes sharing the morning mental music stream. Thus, I’m forced to share them to break the pattern and release them from my stream.

That latter song is a woke DEI offering about peace and good, brotherhood, love, etc. Sure the Trumpites dislike it, or say that they like it and are all for love, peace, and brotherhood, but only for select people.

Coffee is working its positive way through me. Hope you have a positive day and a solid weekend. Cheers

0

Thirstda’s Theme Music

The cat and I agree. It’s not as warm out as we expected from eyeballing the scene. The full sunshine just isn’t cutting the notorious north wind playing in the trees. Papi, ever hopeful, keeps making the trek out through the door, only to beat the window within ten minutes, his cat signal to get back in. I don’t blame him. That batting wind inspires a change in my dressing plans.

It’s Thirstda, April 17, 2025. 59 F and sunny, 72 will rise on the thermometer before the day’s end. I think the wind will have me rethinking how it feels, though.

Our city is going through some budget wrassling. Parks and Rec, as ever, wants to hire more people, buy more land for parks, develop more parks. A continuous battle has been transpiring between Parks and the City and citizenry for years. Parks wanted to be given all tax monies gained from the local sales tax. Oregonians are anti-sales tax. Ashland’s sales tax is often cited for reasons why others in the area won’t eat in the town. It’s only prepared food that’s taxed. Five percent. Outrageous, the anti-sales taxers cry.

Things came to a head last night with Parks and the City Council. Parks wanted $9 a month tack onto every household’s monthly utility bill to pay for more Parks stuff. They threatened layoffs, closures, and cutbacks if that doesn’t happen. The city itself is already planning cutbacks in services because of a budget deficit. The populace is already balking at a lot of this. Ashland’s water rates are already high. Hikes are planned to build a new water treatment plant. It’s a quite contentious thing.

Of course, the city’s plan for its new water treatment plant take a huge step backward this year. Trump cut FEMA plans and fundings. Ashland’s water treatment plant was due to receive a $50 million grant from FEMA’s Flood Mitigation Assistance Grant Program that was created by Congress as part of BRIC. Trump ended that program. “Wasteful,” declared the orange White House occupant.

Today’s music is from Bon Jovi. I’m not particularly fond of “Wanted Dead or Alive”. I think the lyrics are a little silly with lines like “a loaded six string on my back”. What is a loaded six string? Well, Jon Bon Jovi wrote the song. He explained that this song is about the rough rock star touring life. How exhausting it all is. His lyrics were inspired by comparisons with ‘wild-west outlaws’ and the Bob Seger song, “Turn the Page”. So I cut the song some slack.

Not caring about any of that, The Neurons have the song going in the morning mental music stream. I tried to pin them down on their reasoning. That’s like trying to get an explanation from the cat about why the food he loved last week is not acceptable this week.

I’ve had some coffee and I’m feeling alright. Hope some magic comes your way and makes good things happen for you. Time to work on making Thirstda real. Cheers

0

Wenzda’s Theme Music

“Meeyouow,” the cat says.

I shake my head. “I don’t understand what that means.” I guess, treats, water, outside, attention, scratching, Lassie’s in the well? Papi keeps talking. He’s a chatty cat this morning.

I’m less so but have been talking to my computer. My computer doesn’t say much but it’s a good listener. Never interrupts. Most of my words are sentences of disbelieving comments about some of the things I’m reading. There is some spirited cursing thrown in. Like, the thirty thousand eggs the White House is using in this time of high egg prices has me saying some things to my monitor. Poor optics, as if the man gives a shit ’bout optics. He wants the eggs.

“They were saying that for Easter ‘please don’t use eggs. Could you use plastic eggs?’ I say we don’t want to do that,” Trump said earlier this month during remarks announcing a new tariff policy.

Yes, so, there you go.

It is Wenzda, April 16, 2025, 64 F, and sunny. Yesterday clipped 79 F. That’s a good temperature to enjoy when it’s a hot sun and cool breeze. Nice combo. I’ll probably order that regularly once we’re living in virtual reality and ordering our weather. Snow still whitens some higher peaks and ridges, such as Mt. Ashland. The green trees and white mountains dazzle in the sunlit blue sky. I went out and pulled weeds. The front area is a weeded, cut and trimmed. The back yard is a tall grass, weedy, bee and pollinator paradise. We’re seeing few bees so far this year.

Today’s theme music is “It’s Good to Be King”. This is a 1995 Tom Petty song. My Neurons slotted it into the morning mental music stream after reading many of the things Trump said and do. Yes, he acts like the American King which our founders warned us about.

Coffee has landed in my gullet again. Time to rock on through another day, though it might be a slow-paced rock. Hope the best for you. Cheers

1

Twosda’s Theme Music

Yesterday hit 81 F here in Ashlandia. Remembering that, Papi was out early today to experience the improving weather. Energized by light and warmth in a way that I can only envy, he raced out the backdoor at 7 AM. A full sprint around the yard followed. A tree was charged and climbed halfway. Dropping back, full stalking mode was entered. Several pounces were practiced. Another grassy gallop and he was back to the door. “Want back in?” I asked. The cat answered with vigorous tail swishes and a race back across the yard.

All that without coffee. My Neurons were impressed.

I trudged through the room and asked Alexa for its take on the weather. Currently 54 F. Gonna climb to 79 F. Sunshine and clear skies all day. Cool grounds.

Twosda, April 15, 2025 has popped up on the calendar. We’re halfway through the fourth month of 2025. Shit seems to worsen by the day, politically speaking. Such as Trump apologizing for Russia’s Palm Sunday massacre, insisting it was terrible and a mistake. Russia said no such thing. Trump just gives his murdering friends cover.

Past that, a US citizen, born in this country, received an email that she had to leave the country. “Oh, that’s probably a mistake,” someone in the Federal government responded. Yeah, like the previous people deported without trials or evidence? Sure, I believe that shit.

Along those same lines, I don’t believe that Trump can’t get the individual mistaken sent to El Salvador, Kilmar Abrego Garcia. Trump doesn’t want to do bring the guy back. One, that would be a public admission that Trump erred. Trump doesn’t like admitting mistakes. Two, the optics of Trump bringing back a brown-skinned male who Trump accused of being a gang member would upset Trump’s MAGA base. Trump enjoys receiving their adulation too much for him to risk upsetting them. They think he’s peachy and he think’s they’re the greatest. The best.

Anyway, I have a song by Noah Kahan in the morning mental music stream. Kahan released “Hurt Somebody” in 2017. It’s risen through my mind’s debris because of things I thought which were similar to some of the song’s lines. My thoughts were, “What time is it? Wow, this morning is really going by fast. Where did the time go?” At that time, my hands were busy with my food and coffee prep, things usually done thirty minutes before then.

Noticing my thoughts, The Neurons put in the Kahan lines, “Don’t know where the time went. Stuck in the wrong mind set.”

Coffee has escaped into my bio once again. The caffeine is working its expected magic. Here I go into another day. Hope it works out well for me. Hope it works out well for you. Hope it works out well for us.

Cheers

2

A Loaded Dream

It was a long and involved dream. Here are some dreamlights.

I was a young middle-aged man and head of a small business unit. We were located in a semi-tropical, warm, high humidity area. It was not the United States. Outside of my co-workers, the people I knew had all lived in the same huge brick apartment building. All Americans lived there for at least the first four months after their arrival in counrty.

A black 1968 Camaro Z/28 with silver stripes seen three times. A young man was driving it. In real life, I owned a Camaro but not a Z. Mine was not black and silver. Black and silver were Bruce McLaren’s original colors before he changed the team to Kiwi orange or Gulf orange. McLaren was a New Zealand driver and car constructor I idolized as a boy. I had an HO scale racing car of his black and silver McLaren Elva in my car line up.

Musical groups were offered, including the Suzy Qs. That CCR song, “Suzie Q”, was played. Sam Smith was offered, too. His hit, “I’m Not the Only One” was played. In conversation, I was told that not all offerings were available. A weird and arbitrary fashion was invoked to decreed who could be seen, and who could see them. After listening to that, I rejected that method. Said that I wasn’t going to follow or enforce it because it was stupid, and then left. That ended that.

The weekly entertainment was offered on a waxy red poster on a brick wall outside among some foliage. 80 pounds was listed as the admission price for one of them. Hearing that, I opted not to go. A friend was sunbathing nearby. I lied and told her I wasn’t going because there was a baby shower for a woman living in the building the same night as the concert.

Saw two therapists, both women. The therapists were seen three times total. I walked with one of them, talking to her about some of my career frustrations and disappointments. When I saw the other therapist a second time, she couldn’t find my records. I then told her that I’d spoken to the other therapist about that therapist, and then told that therapits what I’d told the other therapist.

Overall, a very good dream.

2

Munda’s Theme Music

The space and time continuum of today says its April 14, 2025, in Ashlandia. Sunshine hunts the spaces between the blinds. Pulling the blinds, blue sky rises into place. They say it’ll reach 26 C today. That’s 80 F for Fahrenheit fans. Right now it’s 58 F. Stand in the sun and it feels like it’s over 70.

The cat is out there acting like the sun king. Yesterday was a 74 F day of sunshine. We had the back door open to let it all in. The cat came in and slept against a wall, under a window in the living room, ten feet away from the open door. He later tail rushed me, asking to be let out the front. My wife said, “You know, the back door is open, Papi.” Papi eeped back. I let him out front. He settled into a favorite space between two bushes in a patch of sun against the house. Scheckter established that spot nineteen years ago. Quinn, Lady, and Tucker owned it for many years. Papi continues to ensure it’s used.

Loaded dreams were had last night. Not a great amount of action but a load of of information. Two songs were included in the dream. One was Sam Smith singing, “I’m Not the Only One” from 2014. Startling to realize that song is already a decade old. Still feels ‘new’ to me. I think that’s how it goes when you age and time speeds up for you.

The other song was CCR’s “Suzie Q”. Hard as it was to accept that “I’m Not the Only One” is ten years old, comprehending that “Suzie Q”, spelled differently than the original, “Susie Q”, is more than 50 years old. A large slug of coffee is needed to digest that. Some serious reminiscing follows about hearing the song as a twelve year old, remembering it being played at parties and gatherings, singing along. There’s a lot of that in fifty years.

A video that fit my needs of CCR performing Suzie Q wasn’t found, so I went with John Fogerty doing the song. Hope you don’t mind.

Coffee has encroached on my systems, lifting me up again. Hope your Monday weather satisfies your scratch and that you discover the secrets needed to make it happily through more days. I’m going out into the sunshine to drink coffee and forget about this year for a few minutes. Cheers

0

Sunda’s Theme Music

Blue skies and sunshine immediately informed me that it was a cold day. “Must be cold out,” I said to the cat. “Ooop,” he replied, rushing for the door.

Papi’s first response to almost all stimuli is to rush for the door. Loud noises like fireworks dictate a course to his hiding spot in the primary bathroom.

Today, though, he was hitting the door, exiting the back, into sunshine. I went with him. The measuring device told me it was 42 F. I felt that even with sunshine bathing me. Back inside, I asked the various digital prophets what the weather be like in Ashlandia on Sunda, April 13, 2025. All agreed it was going to be ‘more of the same’ — sunshine and clear blue sky — with a high of 74 F. As they used to say in another era, I can dig it.

I was thinking about words as I motored from coffee maker to kettle to sink to bowl to cat feeding station, doing the necessaries. The thinking about words came from thinking about news stories. For a while, I had Gloria Estefan and Miami Sound Machine performing their 1986 hit in the morning mental music stream, “Words Get In the Way”.

Then The Neurons abruptly pivoted. I can’t source the pivot’s origins. I only know that I began humming a different beat. A melody began rising, then new lyrics flowed into the morning mental music machine: Jesus Jones” with their 1990 techno-pop offering, “Real Real Real”. My mind seemed to be stuck in that period, 1986 – 1990. As it often happens with The Neurons and their mysterious ways (oh, now we have U2 in the music stream), there’s little explained.

Well, now I’ve slipped back to 1991. I remember when “Mysterious Ways” song was first heard for me. My wife and I were enjoying a Sunday morning on our apartment deck in Sunnyvale, California. We’d only lived there for seven months. The cats, Jade, Crystal, and Rocky, were sunning themselves and washing. We’d just finished a breakfast of fresh croissants, bought at Milk Pail Dairy and baked at home, and fruit, and were talking about what to do that day. It’s strange that this scene is so vivid for me. I have no idea what else we did that day. Memory is a funny thing.

Coffee has lived up to its commitment. Ready to rock another day. Sunlight is guiding my way. There’s a promise of a decent day. Hope you have the same. Cheers

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑