Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofvest (floofinition) – 1. Another word for floof jacket. 2. A caring animal who provides the emotional support to remain uplifted.
In use: “Were it not for her floofvest, Snoopy, and his warm, furry attentions, she would have been crazy within four days of self-isolation.”
Back with an old Kinks favorite. It popped into my head as I saw myself in the mirror as I began shaving.
Hello you, hello me, hello people we used to be
Isn’t it strange, we never change
We’ve been through it all yet we’re still the same
And I know it’s a miracle, we still go, and for all we know
We might still have a way to go
h/t to Genius.com
This 1978 song was about the changes the Kinks were going through so far as lineup, but tells in parallel about a man influenced by their music. Each, in a way, is going through a rock and roll fantasy, from coping with being musicians making the music, to fans listening to the music and taking solace.
In writing, we always talk about how characters change. Yet, how many times have we experienced people in our lives and realized that they haven’t changed, and probably never will?
As we’re going through this global pandemic, I wonder what changes are being wrought, and how many will last? We already see that some people aren’t changing, and won’t change.
We might still have a way to go before we know.
Today is Saturday, March 28, 2020, day fifteen of our self-isolation (yeah, we jumped on it early).
I realized this morning that I didn’t see anyone’s face except my wife (with exceptions via technology). This isolation and watchfulness brought an old song up into the mental music stream this morning. Part of it were lines brought up by news of people who refused to follow guidance.
All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants too
Outside, in the distance
A wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching
The wind began to howl
Here’s the Jimi Hendrix Experience covering Bob Dylan’s “All Along the Watchtower” (1968).
no going out
no coming in
stripped down to himself
he became essential
for he was all he had
I clean up
like I’m going somewhere
and dress up
like I’m going somewhere
and then sit down
like I’m going somewhere
and surf the net
like I’m going somewhere
Looking out the window
at the cars parked like graves
wondering who else is looking out
unseen behind distant glass
as we all look out for one another
looking out for the virus
looking out for a change.
Writing and the coronavirus mated, spurting today’s song into the stream.
I was writing about a queen. On break, I slipped into the backyard. Standing on the covered back patio, ginger cat wrapping around my calf like furry python, I listened to soft rain and admired pink and white blossoms on trees.
Lyrics arrive.
And I said mama, mama, mama, why am I so alone
I can’t go outside
I’m scared I might not make it home
I’m alive, I’m alive
But I’m sinking in
If there’s anyone at home at your place, darling
Why don’t you invite me in?
Don’t try to bleed me
I’ve been there before
And I deserve a little more
h/t to AZLyrics.com
The lyrics continued on autopilot while part of me sorted memory, coming up with Counting Crows, and then “Rain King” (1994).
The birds were plentiful and noisy. Several noticed, “Hey, where are the humans?”
It seemed true, the birds agreed. They didn’t see as many humans as usual. Odd, up here in the northern latitudes, where winter was rolling over into spring. That’s when the humans usually became more active.
Word went from bird to bird, flock to flock, pecking for confirmation: were less humans out? Fewer cars, trucks, and motorcycles? Were all noticing this or was it a local anomaly?
“Yes.” Verification flew through the flocks. Except for a few pockets, less humans were present outdoors. The birds were winning the war.
Orders were issued. “Increase your efforts. Be vigilant. Keep shitting on them, shit on every human you see. Our strategy s working. Victory is coming.”
Michael Seidel, writer 