Today’s song choice is one the cats were singing to me this morning.
Oh, wait, I was singing it to them.
Yeah, do that a lot, sing to the cats. I was singing “A Cat Like You,” which is based on the Smithereens’ 1989 song, “A Girl Like You”.
I’d been talking to the ginger blade, which prompted the singing. I was telling him at the time, “You’re a unique cat.” Which he is, standoffish and sweet, wanting to be closer, unsure how to do it, galloping everywhere with a fanfare of trumpets (or some it seems from his posture).
Then, though, I thought, they’ve all be unique. Some were unique in ways that made you laugh, others had unique properties that made them lovable and sweet, and there were a few with exasperating uniqueness, tetchy and frustrating. A few packaged it all.
So, to the cats, and cats like them, always unique.
“Goof the Floof and the Floofroahs” (floofinition) – An American floof and roll group active in the 1950s and 1960s.
In use: “Although never achieving a number-one hit, “Goof the Floof and the Floofroahs” had several notable songs, such as “Wooly Floofy” and “Lil’ Red Riding Floof”, for which they’re celebrated. Goof the Floof was the lead vocalist, earning his nickname for his singing style.”
Tell me, again, how does this mind thing work? How do memories, dreams, events, and thinking interplay to bring other things up? I don’t have a grasp. I know I’m young, just in my sixties, but I do want to know.
Take this morning. Up and busy with cat attentions (this is where the cats gather to ensure that I’m going to feed them, and the head floofherder guides me to the write location by tapping my legs with a helpful paw, or darting across my path when I turn the wrong way). Not thinking of much, to be honest. Hadn’t had coffee, was drinking hot water.
I guess, if anything, I was thinking, “Oh, sunlight! And it’s not even eight! Yea!” And I was thinking, “Spring ahead with the clock soon, yea.” (And then doing the comparisons; so if it’s seven now, this will be what it’s like at eight, right?”
Into all of this came a song. As the sound entered my stream, I thought, hey, I know that song. That’s “Tubular Bells”. Theme music for the The Exorcist.
Song and movie came out in 1973. The movie was Oscar nominated and much talked about. It terrified people, and they wanted to talk about it. They were talking about it in restaurants and parties, cars and houses, on the radio and television. It was non-stop Exorcist.
“Tubular Bells”, by Mike Oldfield, was everywhere, too. The real question is, why did it make the jump from early 1970s memories to active placement in the stream today.
Guess it’s a haunting melody (heh, heh).
Any of you out there in netland familiar with this movie and song?
“The Traveling Floofburys” (floofinition) – A British-American musical supergroup formed in the late 1980s. Two albums were released but the group never toured before disbanding.
In use: “The Traveling Floofburys were known for having an almost retro flooffle sound from the 1960s, with memorable, often ironic and sometimes amusing lyrics, such as those in “The End of the Treats”, in which treats (and their lack) are treated (sorry) as a metaphor for a change in circumstances.”
This song, “Goodbye Stranger”, arrived in the stream after watching people at the coffee shop and on the streets, and inadvertently eavesdropping (they speak, I have ears…it happens).
A woman regularly brings her dog into the coffee shop. She usually sits back by the community table, where I like to work when I can. Her dog is often a cause for conversations with others. So I’ve learned that her dog is a rescue from an animal hoarding situation, that she’s had to work with him, that his name is Atlas, that he does much better now, but that other dogs’ barking makes him nervous, that he is her service dog. I’ve learned others had dogs like him, or saved from similar situations. He’s often compared to a Ridgeback but he isn’t one, not a true Ridgeback, she says.
But I’ve never heard her name, or why she needs a service dog, nor why she is bald. She wears dark glasses, but she watches people, back from her space by the wall, with her service dog beside her…
I’ve decided that I don’t want coffee shop friendships. I’m there to work. Cruel of me, innit? So I keep myself to myself, but as I leave each time, I feel her eyes watch me, and imagine I turn my head and say, “Goodbye, stranger.”
But I don’t. It has caused the 1979 Supertramp song to find itself in my stream.
“Barks N’ Meowsies”(floofinition) – American hard-floof band heralding from Floof Angeles (F.A.).
In use: “Led by lead singer Axl Bark and guitarist Claws, Barks N’ Meowsies (often shortened to BNM) released their first album, Tearing Up the Toilet Paper in 1990, which included hit single songs, “Floof City” and “Fur Child O’ Mine”.”
I was working at the community table yesterday in the coffee shop. Another couple joined me. Plenty of space, no prob.
The community table is usually used by people powering up ‘puters. This company were only sitting and chatting. They were to my left. She was closer. He was keeping his voice low and demonstrating a pensive, almost furtive air, as if afraid of being overheard.
I don’t pay them — or anyone at the table — much attention; I’m there to do my thang. But I do often hear on some level. It’s part of the background blend of the coffee house business environment. He was complaining about another woman, and what she said and did. (Wife? Sister? Friend?) Whatever she did (his voice dropped into the bowels of softness when he addressed this) had him very upside. (Mother? But he looked in his fifties..) (Co-worker?)
Then the woman said, “You and I know what she will do, and does do. Others won’t know until they experience.”
“I still need to warn them.”
“I know, I understand, I understand.”
Drinks were consumed in silence for a little time. (Ah, secrets. Insights. The things that we know that others don’t.)
I left soon after (nothing to do with them, just finished for the day). Walking along, thinking about my writing, etc., (clouds were moving in, and the sun’s heat was missed), I slipped back onto her comment, “You and I know.” That planted the seed of an old Dave Mason song, “Only You and I know”.
I had to think a while as I walked about what year that song must’ve come out. Fitting it into my personal history, I struggled – ’69, ’70, 71? Had to wiki it upon my return: 1970.
That prompted a death check to confirm Dave Mason is still kicking (he is, seventy-three years old). I enjoy the song (along with the Bonnie and Delaney version) but haven’t heard it in a looonnng time. So I fixed that last night, and share it with you today.
Walking yesterday afternoon and admiring the light on the hills (not much snow on Grizzly, bummer, we need more snow in the mountains, wonder how the snow pack is in the Sierra Nevadas) (I should check) (mental note, search for snow pack update) (it is February, and that’s when they usually come out) (and March), I thought one piece of sky and landscape looked like a silver bowl of light.
‘Silver bowl of light’ is a line used in “Suddenly I See” by KT Tunstall (2005). “Suddenly I See” was suddenly in my stream, where it managed to survive a night of dreams (one about eating chocolate cake) (funny, another dream about eating cake) (what’s that all about?) and into the morning, officially earning the title, “This Morning’s Earworm”.
So, passing it on so that it may escape my mind. Cheers
Floof Zeppelin (floofinition) – Formed in the early part of the nineteenth century, Floof Zeppelin were an English floof band known for their heavy guitar-driven sound and mystical lyrics.
In use: “Although disbanding and ending as a musical group after several members crossed the rainbow bridge and returned to their home dimension, Floof Zeppelin’s hits, such as “Whole Lotta Fur”, “Scratching Post”, and “Treats for Dinner”, continue to appeal to legions of floofs.”
Once again, I get up, begin the day, and develop an earworm. My morning earworms are frequently related to my dreams or my thoughts. A third category consists of songs that leap in. I suspect that I heard reference to them or part of them in passing and they snuggled into the folds of my mind until a quiet moment arrives when they can burst through into my stream.
(It’s odd how word association will cause a flash-in of another song; in this case, I had been about to write, ‘break through’, which triggered “Break on through to the other side”.) (Remember that one? Jim and The Doors? The 1960s?).
This morning’s streaming song is out of 1968. I didn’t know who performed it; Google and Wikipedia revealed it was The Foundations (I only remember them slightly). So, here’s this morning’s flow, “Build Me Up, Buttercup”.
Michael Seidel, writer 