Wednesday’s Theme Music
Ashland, Oregon — Wednesday, February 25, 2026. Rainy, 46 F, the day is calm, shiny wet, and gray with a forecast high of 55 F.
Family text messages were almost nonexistent, except for one from sis. Mom has signed the paperwork to remain in the assisted living center for March. Her money is running out, though, so this is another stage of development. Now we wait to see what will unfold.
After checking in on Mom and my sisters, I read Trump’s State of the Union. Trump went into sales mode, framing some facts as being historically great. Chances are, when checked against actual documentation, the claims won’t hold. In a way, this is like radio or television ads making great claims about their product or service but then adds some very fast speech and texts about warnings and exceptions. Trump left the warnings off, though.
I didn’t listen to Trump’s speech. Reading the transcript is draining. He makes such gross exaggerations, grabbing credit when he is due none. Like the Olympic games coming to the United States. Other people worked hard, long hours to make the games come to Los Angeles, and a committee selected LA. Trump glosses over their work as though those individuals did nothing, that it was all due to him.
In the end, it was a typical Trump speech of selling how great everything is, how wonderful he is, how terrible Democrats are. Inside his bubble, he probably thinks it’s all true. His base will respond and love it. Military force, USA, USA! And that Biden! But I’m sure more FAFO is on the way for them.
All this ended up with U2 singing “One” in the morning mental music stream. The Neurons began with the opening lyrics:
Lyrics
Is it getting better?
Or do you feel the same?
Will it make it easier on you now?
You got someone to blame?
[Bridge]
You say love is a temple, love a higher law
Love is a temple, love the higher law
You ask me to enter, but then you make me crawl
And I can’t be holding on to what you got
When all you got is hurt
Let’s hope that we come together to build something better for all of us, where we can co-exist with other views without thinking of them as an enemy. In other words, a place with peace and grace.
Trump Fantasies
Donald Trump is scheduled to give a State of the Union address to a joint session of Congress tonight. This is an opportunity for him to tout what he’s done and shape messaging ahead of this year’s midterm elections.
It comes at an interesting time. As trends now go, Trump’s popularity is falling. At least 31 Republicans in Congress announced that they’ll retire instead of vying for re-election.
I expect Trump to brag about wars he ended or stopped. I think he’ll talk about how great he thinks the economy is, perhaps even mention beating affordability — a Democratic hoax in his mind — and ‘ending inflation’.
Trump seems to fantasize about what he’s doing, dreaming up a result, then acting like it’s reality. To me, that’s exactly what the video he made of himself as a hockey player winning an Olympic gold medal is all about, along with the video he made before as a superhero.
This also explains why Trump is so terrified of the Epstein files being released that he keeps trying to stall, redact, and distract from it. Like his taxes, the Epstein file will reveal a truth that Trump hides, dashing his fantasies about who he is.
It’s funny, too, in a very sad way. The hockey team won a gold medal as a team. Trump sees himself as achieving success while being part of a team, but never actually acts as a team player.
What I would like to see from Trump’s State of the Union address is an announcement that he’s resigning. I’d him to say he’s retiring from the public eye and, paraphrasing Spiro Agnew, we won’t have Trump to kick around any more.
Since I’m fantasizing this, I think I’ll treat it as reality. It’s a done deal.
And as Trump might say, it’s the most beautiful thing ever.
For Donald
I live a dull life
Behind the blinds
Peering out to see –
Is anyone trying
to get inside?
Watching all those neighbors
Coming and go
Wondering if the police
Are ever gonna show.
The crimes they’re committing
In my mind
Are the terrible most worse crimes
Of all time.
I need a big stick
To beat them all down.
Until I do, they’ll treat me
like some big orange clown.
Saturday’s Theme Music
February 7, 2026. Ashland greets me and Saturday with overcast skies and 47 F. Yes, will it rain, snow? Not cold enough for the latter, it’s been a month since significant rain fell.
Today’s high will be in the mid-fifties and precipitation isn’t forecast for today. A Facebook graphic (posted at the bottom) gives visuals to our worries. We keep reminding ourselves, it’s still only February.
Playing with dreams, interacting with Papi, reading the news, and waiting for updates from sis occupies my morning. Papi remains a positive, casual spirit, slipping by my legs in an orange-fur kiss. Dreams are erotic and intriguing.
The news, ah. I enjoy reviews of how insipid the “Melania” documentary seems. Emerging as a vehicle to support Trump’s spin that Melania is so smart and interesting, the quotes and stills reminds me of how flat and empty she always appears.
The documentary set a record for opening day box office receipts for that category. Anecdotally, the theaters have been almost empty. Online, Rotten Tomatoes is a perfect metaphor for this era, critics there granting the movie an 8% approval while ‘audiences’ give it 99%.
That’s so perfectly aligned with this era.
Over in life with Mom, Mom is going through another breakdown. Sis recorded one of the conversations she and Mom had, when sis delivered Mom dinner.
Mom refused to eat and kept telling sis, “You’re not the boss of me.” The split arose because a nurse is coming to see Mom. Mom wanted more time to get ready but Sis works and had to be there to meet the nurse and let her in. Mom needed more time because she wants to hide her medication collection and clean herself up. Mom also accused sis of poisoning her.
Sis couldn’t change plans. Mom spent the night crying and moaning, “I don’t want to be here,” curling up at 6:30 this morning to go to sleep. The nurse was due at 10. The appointment should have taken place; I’m awaiting reports.
In reporting, though, I’ve noticed subtle shifts in sis’s attitude towards Mom. She’s become more reflective, tolerant, and patience.
UPDATE: Sis explained all to the nurse and suggested it sounds like — drum roll — dementia. It was an anti-climatic moment. She suggested Mom needs to see a neurologist. Also — Mom may have a UTI. That wouldn’t be a surprise.
I end up with “Heaven” by the Talking Heads in my morning mental music stream, a quiet little song about a place everyone wants to reach, where they do — nothing but chill. Relax. And like that, The Neurons summon Frankie Goes to Hollywood. Hah!
Hope your day is joyous, and satisfying to you in meaningful ways. I’ll take what I can get, here and now, and try to move on to something better.
Cheers
The Writing Moment
I’m revising and editing the novel in progress, “Unfocused”. This pass is for understanding, coherency, continuity. More planned passes will address line edits and polishing. I do address egregious issues whenever I encounter them but improving mechanics and refinement isn’t my current focus.
It goes well but it’s not an even tide. Most chapters are broken into six to ten numbered sections. It fascinates me is how well I remember writing passages and yet they seem like foreign lands. Distinct memories of decisions and progressions are encountered. When I wrote the novel, I sometimes wasn’t satisfied with a chapter and decided to get out of my way, just get it all down, go on, and return to it during revisions. Chapters also exist where I worked them and worked them until they satisfied the writer of that day and I was content to move on.
How I addressed the chapters and sections show. Revision for one rushed chapter consumed an entire week, developing into a sequence of revising and editing. Sometimes several passes of a section were done in one day. More than once, I walked away to think and digest what was and wasn’t working and where changes were needed. Those breaks always helped.
Other days — yesterday, for instance — I swept through one entire chapter in one two-hour session and walked away pleased. It all varies.
Now, back to editing and revising “Unfocused”, 536 pages long, resuming at page 246.
And Then
Promises
Compromises
Dreams
And schemes
Guidance
And directions
Beginnings
And endings
Are the things we seek and give
Looking
and feeling
Stumbling toward our best
To be
And live
Falling down
Getting up
Sipping coffee
And drinks
Sleeping
Waking
Trying it all
again
Thirstdaz Theme Music
It looks like we might have some fog today in Foglandia. It’s Thirstda, December 11, 2025. The fog landed on us yesterday morning and has not abated. My friend came out of meeting last night and said, “Wow, this is Jack the Ripper kind of fog.” Our forecast for today, given yesterday morning, promised sunshine and a possible record high in the low to mid-sixties. That was yesterday. Now we’re mumbling about maybe hitting 50 F. It’s 37 F now. The claims made yesterday for today have been shifted to tomorrow. Feels like a con game. Wonder how much of Trump DOGE cuts cause the diminishing weather forecast accuracy?
Another night of intriguing dreams featuring cars, women, and building had me wondering about stuff this morning. Traversing the assimilating and understanding functions of parsing the dreams inspired Les Neurons. “Clocks” by Coldplay floated into the morning mental music stream. The song’s lyrics go, “Confusion never stops. Closing walls and ticking clocks. Gonna come back and take you home. I could not stop that you now know, singing.” Which pretty well reflected part of one remembered dream sequence. Actually, minus the clocks. It was but the sentiment of confusion.
Speaking of the sentiment of confusion, have you heard Deceiving Donny’s recent speeches? Yes, he’s a rambling vocal trainwreck. Naturally, MAGA reactions are, “But Biden.” Always looking to the past, they are, always hunting for an escape route to avoid facing reality. Read a piece which tickled me from MPS, Case Study: In Your Guts, You Know He’s Nuts.
Yes, we know he’s nuts. So does AI as it reviews some sample shitalk outta the great mango babbler. Trump’s probably the greatest babbler the world has ever known. He can babble like no babbler has ever babbled before. People listening to him often remark, “What an amazing babbler. What a stunning babbler.” After listening to Dizzy Donny’s babbling, people often march up, shake his hand, and say, “Sir, that was the most beautiful babbling I’ve heard the pleasure of hearing.” One man said he told Trumpy Dumpty, “In my two hundred fifty years of life, I’ve never heard greater babble coming out of anybody like this before, let alone the President of the United States. What babble! Amazing babble! BEAUTIFUL BABBLE!!!”
I was with friends having a beer and talking last night. One related the death of his brothers. One older, one younger. Both being treated. One was denied Oregon’s “Death with dignity” to pursue assisted suicide because he was being treated and following a course of stuff supposed to fight the disease, etc. But the side effect of said treatment were blood clots which caused strokes, diminishing his capacity to speak, move, breathe, etc. Sickening and exasperating.
On that note, time to rev up the life engine and plunge into my daily routines. Which mostly circulates around going out and writing. Writing is going well but consumes so much life band. My wife is tremendously accommodating of my efforts. She deserves several prizes. Hope I can reward her faith and support with success someday. Meanwhile, onward. Cheers
Mundaz Theme Music
Sunshine is making its way. Yesterday’s prevailing gray has been subdued. Temperatures from 46 to 57 degrees F, now and later. It’ll be cloudy. Rain could slip in. So could fog. We’ll see what we see for today, Munda, December 8, 2025. At least it has a less wintry feel to it. Yeah, I know how much I whine. Other places are digging out of snow, dealing with slush and ice. Here I sit, the prince on his cushion, upset about a pea.
Haven’t done this song in a while. “You May Be Right” is a fave for me. Like the words, their sentiments, the beat, and Billy Joel’s delivery. It’s a ripped from life sort of song. That’s what brought it here today. Mom and sisters are now in open war. One sister said she won’t have naught to do with Mom. Sis, the primary caretaker, said she will no longer speak to Mom or help her. Third sister said she is also not speaking to Mom because Mom is not listening and is shouting at everyone. Exhausting a thousand miles away plus.
Mom wants to return to ‘her house’. Her house has been cleaned out of food. Slowly stripped of stuff to make it saleable, an effort begun back in October. Sis and the others are saying, “Let her go if that’s what she wants.” I tried to make peace. Tried to explain how it didn’t work for Mom in October when Frank was hospitalized and it won’t work now. Sis and the others have moved past caring, they say. Mom has alienated everyone in the house. Sigh.
Tried to explain to Mom why it won’t work for her to return to her place. Mom’s response was, well, startling in its unmoored style. She told me that my sister had gotten to me. Went into something about how that was because she’d been in and out of a wheelchair back in October but now they’re keeping her in a wheelchair so her back and legs are week. Like, what? Mom finished, “I’m going to get out of here, one way or another.”
Frequently in the conversations and texts about the situation, I end up saying, “You may be right.” After observing me thinking it so often, The Neurons decided that I needed the song and cranked it up in the morning mental music stream. Although I often look for recordings of live performances, I enjoy the original video for this song, so here it is.
In reflection about Mom and sis, etc., I had doubts about that arrangement working. Mom is hardheaded; sis inherited that from her. Mom also have several other skills, like being overdramatic and the ability to push others’ buttons. Sis and Mom have history. Nonetheless, I was hopeful. This option was also the only one Mom agreed to. I think all concerned dreamed of a different outcome. Of course, we can’t say how much drug, pain, aging, stress, emotions, etc., is dictating this course. I’ve seen other families endure it with grit teeth and heavy sighs. Now it’s our family’s turn. I don’t have hopes for any sort of quick, easy, or happy outcomes. One of them is texting me right now so I must go see what the latest is.
Need I say, we all miss Frank for his patience, support, and endurance?
Hope peace and grace finds and holds you. I’ve had a couple slugs of coffee. Think I’ll have a few more. Here we go. Cheers
Fridaz Wandering Thoughts
Mom and sis are coping and adjusting, per usual. Mom is an interesting case. When she’s doing well, she’s happy on her own. When she’s doing poorly, she gets crabby and wants visitors. But her crabbiness repels people, so they stay away. Not a good dynamic.
So many things must be tended for Mom. The emptying and cleaning of her house, of course, and then putting it on the market. Those are expected, straightforward, but work. The matters causing the most headaches and frustrations are these modern matters. Changing phone plans because Mom’s phone was on Frank’s plan. Canceling her internet and cable. Those things were done online, through passwords and account numbers and usernames and things like that. Mom has it written down but it’s all been changed so many times because they changed systems or the passwords expired, or it didn’t work for God knows why, as Mom would say.
Then there are the prescription drugs. Sam’s Club is Mom’s pharmacy. Frank was her delivery system. Now sis is her delivery system, but sis doesn’t have the time to make regular runs like Frank did. These things can be delivered but the co-pay must be paid for. Does Mom have a credit card on file? Yes, she does, she says, no, you don’t, the pharmacy replies. Back and forth they go, driving sis insane.
It all makes me think. Mom is but twenty years older than me, and the way my health is trending…LOL. I think, I must be better prepared. Sure, passwords are written down and secured but they must be found by whoever is taking care of me at that point.
Maybe it’ll be AI or a bot assisting me by that point. A Medibot. Watching AI and bots in action at this stage, though, I’m not reassured. Maybe, maybe, they’ll have it worked out in twenty years.
Time will tell. Always does, doesn’t it?
Michael Seidel, writer 