Hello, friends. It’s Friday, January 19, 2024, which means we have eleven months left in this year to get things done. 52 F here right now, we’re again trapped in a spring-like day in Ashlandia, where the valley is narrow and the days are pleasant. Striated clouds in shades of blues and grays are offering a promise of more rain and a high two degrees further up the thermometer.
Read news about a killing done with a hammer, new titanium dentures for a celebrity (just 850K if you want to get some), a messed up speech by Trump where he displayed confusion and forgetfulness, and an Oregon teen who witnessed a winter accident and saved a child. In the last, the individual said she saw a car slide on ice into a power pole. It killed three of the people in the car but she saved the fourth, a nine-month-old. Meanwhile, the US is in conflict with Houthi rebels in Yemen. The Houthi have been launching missiles at ships in international waters, and the US has begun conducting air strikes against these missile strikes. Will it escalate? Escalation seems to be the pattern in vogue when it comes to violence in this century but I hope not.
Out of nowhere this morning, The Neurons have offered “I Am A Man of Constant Sorrow” by the Soggy Bottom Boys to the morning mental music stream (Trademark all wet). The song has been around over one hundred years. I’d known it by others like Bob Dylan, Judy Collins, and Ginger Baker before this fictional singing group was featured in the movie, O Brother Where Art Thou? in 2000, but truly enjoyed the fake performance of a delightful song. Anyway, it came up today so it’s my theme music. These at the musicians and singers who put it together for the movie, although there are some substitutions here.
Of course, I sang a modified version to my cats, which could be called, “I Am A Floof of Constant Hunger”. As usual, they were not impressed. They seemed quizzical about why I was singing to them when they really wanted me to feed them.
Be strong, stay positive, and lean forward. Here’s the music. I got coffee and a cat sleeping by the ‘puter, but I need to put some pants on. Cheers
Started the morning like it felt like spring had spring. Although just 40 F, that spring balminess – spriminess — enveloped my area of Ashlandia, where a river runs through it. This is today, by the way, Thursday, Jan. 18, 2024. It’s now 54 F, though rain has been falling from a swollen gray cloud that hovers over us like it’s hiding a giant alien spaceship.
My day was compromised by the need to be socially responsible and help some friends out. They of the removed gall bladder and limited mobility and freedom previously written of needed grocery shopping done, so we did so. That hoovered up the morning and early afternoon. Delivering the purchases, we then visited with them and emptied the dishwasher, putting those items away as weren’t able to do that for themselves.
I feel for them, though, really and truly. Besides her surgery, she has macular degeneration in her eyes and can barely squint through the day. She recounted being in the hospital unable to work the television remote because she didn’t know what was what. I don’t know why she couldn’t figure that out by trial and error, hit and miss. I suspect she didn’t think of it. BTW, she showed us some of the marbles that were the gallstones removed from her. She informed us that the six we saw were just a small sampling of what’d been removed.
Meanwhile, Mom had another bad fall at her house. Nothing broken but some bruises, contusions, and bleeding. Happened while she was trying to make it to the comode. All this evidence of aging and mortality is deflating. The thing is, I take notes about what happens to them so I’m more prepared, in case they happen to me. But the other thing about aging is that it’s such a personal matter and your experience — what you do and don’t suffer and wha I go through — will be generally the same and unique different.
Today’s song in the morning mental music stream (Trademark delusional) was “Gangsta’s Paradise” by Coolio from 1995. Reading and thinking about Trump and his family and the people who support him inspired The Neurons to play this song. The Neurons began with the lines, “Power and the money, money and the power, minute after minute, hour after hour. Everybody’s runnin’, but half of them ain’t lookin’.” That’s basically what I see in many ways when I see TFG leading the GOP.
Stay as positive as you can while testing negative, staying strong, and leaning forward. Coffee is done for the day. Here’s the music. Cheers
Yeah, you know it’s the day after Monday and the day before Wednesday, and it’s January 16, 2024. Half of the year’s first month is already gone and it looks like the rest is going soon.
40 F and fog, with rain on the way, not much change, day on day. We’re looking forward to a 51 F high today.
Boy, howdy, I was enjoying so many pleasant dreams that I had no interest in awakening up and getting out of bed. Don’t know what triggered this stretch of positive night views but I’m not getting introspective with them. Just gonna take ’em as they come and accept.
Musically, The Neurons launched Bob Dylan’s “Positively 4th Street” from 1965 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark backdated). I enjoy the song’s lyrics and Dylan’s unique delivery. My favorite line, which is often cited as a fave by others, is, “I wish that for just one time you could stand inside my shoes…you’d know what a drag it is to see you.” Which is the along the lines of the thinking I was doing, reading about why people were selecting Trump (and the hilarious comment by a NYTimes reporter that Iowa, where it’s like 87 % white, has a lot more diversity than people realize — sure). It’s the economy for them, stupid. And the border, which has got them scared. Or God. Or what/how we’re teaching their children to be a different gender or something. They often can’t intelligently articulate why, especially when facts are thrown back into their face. Trump’s lies, echoed by the right wing, is scoring points because these folks stay ensconced in a fact-free bubble. The NYT calls the bond Trump has with his besotted supporters “the most durable force in America.”
Here is the paragraph that made me almost spew: ‘“I know that he is picked by God for this hour,” said Patricia Lage, an Iowa caucusgoer who spoke in support of Mr. Trump on Monday night in Carlisle, outside Des Moines. “There are things that he has done in the past, but we all have pasts.”’
“Picked by God for this hour.” And what is the hour? The time to toss away democracy in America and accept a dictator? That’s a durable empty-headed bond, alright.
Anyway, that’s what triggered Dylan’s line on this fine Tuesday morning.
Stay positive, test negative, and carpes diem, which I will do after I carpes coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: coffeesophical (when you’re just sipping coffee and thinking)
Monday, which is today, Jan. 15, 2024, which is also today, is weather ala carte. Got some fresh sunshine with sides of 38 F, fog, and blue sky. Mixing it up, you know?
Ihave a John Prine song in the head today, an impromptu addition to my thoughts supplied by The Neurons out of the blue. Well, kind of out of the blue. I was thinking about how easily we become insulated against others’ worries and needs, actually, how we become thoughtless about others’ existence. Things are taken for granted; minor matters gain weight because we have so little bothering us. Out of that came John Prine and a song called, “That’s the Way the World Goes Round” orbiting my morning mental music stream (Trademark done). Originally released in 1978, Prine sang it with Colbert back in 2016, and Cobert broadcast it when he learned that Prine was stricken with COVID-19 and on a ventilator. Well complications from that took Prine in 2020.
Pursue a positive attitude, buck up and be strong, and remain leaning forward with hope for a better existence for people. I’m talkin’ less violence, greed, and hate, you know? Coffee time is fully underway. Here’s the music. Cheers
Today is Sunday, January 14, 2024. Spacious sunshine is floating bright and happy through our valley, though grim gray clouds hover here and there as if they’re waiting to strike. We wuz out on an early food shoptz (shopping blitz) and I rejoiced in all the sunshine. It’s 51 F, just a hair off today’s expected high of 52 F.
The cats are digging the sunshow, striking calendar-worthy poses in the bright light. Papi, being the high energy being he is, all light and fur, keeps going in and out, seeking escape from boredom. I play with him every time he comes back in but he bores of that, too. There’s just no pleasing some floofs.
Well, we’re fortunate here. North of us an hour as the car rolls, some houses are without power and experiencing temperatures in the twenties. Friends living in the suburbs of Portland are enduring no power with a temperature of 26 (which feels like 3). Ouch.
While on our shoptz, I heard “Need A Favor” by Jellyroll from 2022 on the radio. The Neurons just took it up and tucked it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark damned) where it remains this afternoon. TBH, its country sound has a definite rock sauce on it. But The Neurons were really taken by that line, “I only pray when I ain’t got a prayer.”
Stay strong, be pos, test negative and keep leaning forward. Hope you and yours are safe and comfortable wherever you are, whatever your weather. Cheers
Saturday, January 13, 2024, has arrived with higher temperatures and heavy, wind-driven rain whipping Ashlandia (where the coffee is excellent and the parks are above average). It’s 42 F now, not far from the expected peak of 49 F. Rain has been falling all night, and the misty low, fat clouds look like they have a lot more to give.
The cats both wanted out this morning after their breakfast. Tucker settled in a dry but cold location on the front porch while Papi sought whatever drives him to wander. I managed to coax both back in after thirty minutes. When they came in, both dashed for me and I discovered Papi was soaked. I toweled him off (despite his protests and efforts to flee) and then Papi headed for the kibble station while Tucker went to the litter box.
Left home early, didn’t take the dog (don’t have one) or the cats (I have two). Coffee shop numero uno was at full cap so I went to numero dos. A prime writing location was available so I sat and began. Unfortunately, I discovered that a leak was exploring the ceiling above and splashing down. I alerted the staff and shifted sites. No good writing location was available but I found a table and set up camp. A young guy at my most preferred site. Understanding that I was on a laptop and could use an outlet, he approached and offered it to me. Such kindness. I offered to buy him something as reward but he declined.
One amusing thing was observed. I saw one barista drift through, washing off the unused tables and tidying. About four minutes after she went through, a second one went through, doing the same thing to the same tables.
Very satisfying and uplifting dreams were experienced last night. Hope everyone has such dreams in their life. Thinking about it had The Neurons plug “What Is Life” by George Harrison (1971) intorock the morning mental music stream (Trademark drifting). I get what The Neurons are doing there, because I’d been musing about life since a conversation with a friend about death the other day. Her husband worries about death and fears it. I related back that I didn’t worry about it because we don’t know if there is an ‘other side’ or the full nature of ourselves and our existence. I mean, between religion, science, and philosophy, we’ve developed some great ideas and insights about what it is. But knowledge is ever-evolving, and as we explore the quantum side of being more, we might surprise ourselves with what we learn. “I think, therefore I am,” might even apply to us after we die along paths that we can’t yet divine.
Stay pos, lean forward, remain strong, and test negative. Coffee and its bennies are already perking through my systems. Here is thy theme music. Cheers
It’s a sunny, cloudy, snowy, dry, cold Friday out there in Ashlandia today, January 12, 2024. (Ashlandia: where the snowfall is below average.) The snow isn’t falling but hazardly tossed as lumpy blankets as it unevenly melts and freezes. Roads are clear and dry. Clouds are a buff, low gray mass which sometimes permits a blinker of sunshine. It’s 34 F now, but rain is supposed to be coming as we’re treated to a high of 44 F today.
The cats are out, taking advantage of the storm lull. Though I dislike it, Papi is prowling and inspecting, looking for changes in his kingdom. Tucked in with his tail wrapped around him as a warmer, Tucker is just breathing fresh but cold air on the covered front porch’s doormat.
I’m better, thanks, already drinking coffee, breakfast already well along the digesting process. It’s interesting, too, but after Wednesday night’s BVVP experience, my tinnitus is amost completely gone. The worst after-effects is worry that it’ll happen again – especially in somewhere public — and my abdominal muscles. Every giggle, guffaw, laugh, yawn, cough, sneeze, and grunt has those muscles screaming, give us a damn break.
I perused the list of ‘not banned’ books in Escambia County, Floridayesterday. These over sixteen hundred novels, biographies, dictionaries, and encyclopdias are not banned, the county always explain, but have been called unsuitable by some and were removed for review and decisions.
From the cited article, PEN America notes (their emphasis),
“Five dictionaries are on the district’s list of more than 1,600 books banned pending investigation in December 2023, along with eight different encyclopedias, The Guinness Book of World Records, and Ripley’s Believe it or Not – all due to fears they violate the state’s new laws banning materials with “sexual conduct” from schools.
“Biographies of Beyoncé, Lady Gaga, Oprah Winfrey, Nicki Minaj, and Thurgood Marshall are on the list, alongside The Autobiography of Malcolm X and Black Panther comics by Ta-Nehisi Coates. The Feminism Book was banned along with The Teen Vogue Handbook: An Insider’s Guide to Careers in Fashion.
“The list obtained by the Florida Freedom to Read Project also includes Anne Frank’sDiary of a Young Girl, The Adventures and the Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie’sDeath on the Nile. The Princess Diaries and 14 other books by Meg Cabot have been taken from libraries, alongside books by David Baldacci, Lee Child, Michael Crichton, Carl Hiassen, Jonathan Franzen, John Green, John Grisham, Stephen King (23 of them), Dean Koontz, Cormac McCarthy, Celeste Ng, James Patterson, Jodi Picoult, and Nicholas Sparks. Conservative pundit Bill O’Reilly’s two books, Killing Jesus and Killing Reagan, were also banned pending investigation.”
I have to thank Scottie’s Playground for pulling this together and providing it to us. To close, the most shocking aspect are the quotes Scottie included from Judd Legum’s coverage:
Attorney General Ashley Moody argued that the school board could ban books for any reason because the purpose of public school libraries is to “convey the government’s message,” and that can be accomplished through “the removal of speech that the government disapproves.” This is a novel argument about the purpose of school libraries.
That’s GOP freedom and democracy for ya.
For some alien reason, The Neurons were playing operator-themed music in the morning mental music stream (Trademark perplexed). Songs like “Operator” by Jim Croce, “Smooth Operator” by Sade, ”Operator” by the Grateful Dead, and “Operator” by Manhattan Transfer. The last stayed put for a longer period, morphing into today’s theme music.
Although either agnostic or pastafarian — it changes as much as the weather — I enjoy gospel music. I also feel for the search for community, support, reassurance, love, information, etc., from something beyond our daily endeavors. You never know what you’ll find or where you’ll find it when you reach out in need. Although religion doesn’t do much for me, I’m happy for those who can find their answers there, so long as they don’t tread on me or try to foist their answers on the rest of us.
On to the day. Stay pos, be strong, test negative, and keep leaning forward. I know it’s not always easy, believe me, but I’ll keep trying for those four fundamental foundations. Here’s the music. Cheers
Today is Thursday, January 11, 2024. Snow flew through the skies all day yesterday except for one fifteen minute period. Other than that whenever I looked out, it was coming down.
The temperature rose, though, so the snow was melting, and the plow truck had passed through multiple times, so the roads were clear. An ice danger remained in shadowy parts. Always does.
Then, three o’clock, the temperature dropped and a new snow assault began. I don’t know when it ended but we have eight inches in my area/elevation this morning. But the sun is shining, and blue skies are seeping through the thinning grey clouds, so it’s a gorgeous winter morning. Was 29 F when I got up. Now it’s 37. 44 is expected to be the upside. Rain is supposedly on its way but right now, no rain clouds are in sight.
The day started badly for me with a prolonged bout of BPPV – Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo. Basically, crystals in your ears responsible for your balance break loose and wreak havoc. Bursts of vertigo result, with nausea and vomiting. It’s more prevalent in people over sixty and more women experience it than men.
I’ve never had it before, but it came on strong. Just after midnight, as we were closing shop, I experienced sharp vertigo when I moved my head. Everything in my vision bounced around me and I thought I’d blacked out for a second because of its intensity. Asking myself, “What the fuck was that,” I observed it again and again. Meanwhile, my left ear was ringing. I began getting hot. Within seconds, sweat covered me, beading on my face. Simultaneously, a feeling was growing in my solar plexus. I thought I was getting hungry and was amused because we’d had an excellent dinner, but no; I was getting ready to refund dinner.
Feeling the vomiting sensation rising with tsunami-like intensity, I lurched for the bathroom. Vertigo crashed over me with every step. I hung onto walls and furniture, pinballing from piece to piece to stay upright. I just made it to the commode. Then violent vomiting began. My wife hurried in to get the story but I couldn’t speak, as my mouth was busy with the heaving for five minutes.
When that segment ended, I gasped out my symptoms and she charged to her computer to see what could be learned. Moving my head, I had another violent five minute session. My wife reported that she thought it was BPPV, which she’d once experienced. She also had several friends endure her, so she has so familiarity with it. With her help, I went supine to the bathroom floor. She brought me a pillow.
I didn’t want to stay on the bathroom floor. By now, my body was shaking. Deciding to try to get up, I went into another V2 – vertigo/vomiting – episode, though little was in my stomach. Didn’t matter. I simply retched and retched. Now convinced by my weakness, shaking, vertigo, and vomiting to not move, I hung onto the commode and bathtub and obeyed the illness’s commands.
My wife came in and told me about the Home Epley Maneuver to cope with BPPV. I resolved to try it but learned that any head movement fired up the vertigo, followed by puking and shaking. My body’s sharp spasms almost caused me to almost defecate in my sleepwear. I recognized that I wasn’t going anywhere for a while.
It was now 1:45; I’d been enduring this for over 100 minutes and it didn’t seem to be getting any better. I couldn’t stay where I was, I decided, because new visions of vertigo and a need for sleep fed fears of my head or mouth crashing into the porcelain surrounding me. I told my wife I needed her help to move, and outlined my plan to go to the office, and sit still in there in a chair under covers, and maybe sleep until this passed. I’d take a small waste basket with me. She came up with the idea of bringing in my wheeled-desk chair so I wouldn’t need to walk, because the vertigo and its follow-on consequences lit up with every movement.
That worked. Pulling in a second chair, my feet were elevated and the blanket put on me. Then I clutched the wastebasket to my chest and dry-heaved for a couple minutes. She went to bed and I slumbered off and on in the chair, puking a few more times. Thinking that I was tired of holding the waste basket on my chest, I eased it to the floor. That induced another round of vertigo and puking.
At 5 AM, I needed to pee. Rising and walking with the stiffness and gait Frankenstein’s monster, I took care of business but kept my head movement to a minimum. My body expressed some interest in puking but they were mild and I suppressed them. The moving actually seemed to help. My sleeping position had been uncomfortable, so I rearranged things into a more comfortable position and turned on the television for companionship, streaming some old show. No more puking was endured and sleep finally came. I didn’t wake up until 8:30 and felt much better.
I did the Epley Maneuvers a little while ago. I’m still shaky and tired, and leery of eating anything. My wife made me a smoothie for breakfast and now, here I sit, intermittently searching the net for more info about BPPV.
The Neurons, always ready with a sick sense of humor, started playing “Dizzy” by Tommy Roe from 1969 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark crashed) because of my vertibo bouts. I know the song well. My stepfather when the song came out was George. He had two daughters. The oldest one was nicknamed Dizzy, so when the song came out, she adopted it as her theme music.
Stay positive, test negative, be strong, and lean forward. No coffee yet today; just water (dehydrated this morning, for some reason) and the smoothie. Here’s the music. Cheerio
Snow dilutes the light through the windows and blocks the solar tube and skylights, wholly changing the house’s ambiance. Yes, we’re part of the snowstorm holding the Pacific Northwest hostage on Wednesday, January 10, 2024, which is today. It’s 32 F now, as it has been for the last five hours. Snow continuously fell during that period, alternating the flakes’ speed, size, or density, but it falls nontheless. The road has been plowed a few times. I’ve seen one bird and no other animals out there. I hope the homeless are okay; the emergency shelters have been opened.
The snow is expected to yield to rain later. Looking out as a tow truck motors down the hill past my house, it looks like the snow is more sleetish. Snow is falling off tree branches, wires, and fences, so something is going on.
I’m happy, though, because the snowbank is climbing, part of the complicated, multi-faceted process for delivering us summer water.
My eyes yelp against the white-sheeted landscape’s intensity whenever I look out, like the snow is sucking up the light and then firing it back with a tenfold intensity. Sunglasses help but it feels odd wearing sunglasses in the house while looking out the window.
Les Neurons have loaded “Snowblind” by Black Sabbath from 1972 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark stuck). Lyrics easily return from when I listened to the album, Black Sabbath Vol 4 back in high school. Scott — a high school peer — gave it to me because he didn’t like it because it was too dark and brooding. “Kills my buzz,” he laughed with that light in his eyes. He was such a trip.
I understood what he meant, though. This song in particular felt like a downer with its plodding sound and semi-screeched lyrics. Still, they come back to mind with little problem: “My eyes are blind, but I can see. The snowflakes glisten on the trees. The sun no longer sets me free. I feel the snowflakes freezing me.” I sometimes sang them to myself countless times since learning them when walking in the snow in Ohio, Pennsylvania, South Korea, Germany, Oregon, and other places.
Stay positive, test negative, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee has come my way. Snow still falls, delivering fatter flakes to the four inches on the ground. Here’s the music. Cheers
Light rain and gray clouds sang in Tuesday’s entrance on January 9, 2024. Snow is gone from the valley floor. Fog veils the mountains and ridges so I don’t know what the situation is up there. Gloomy is the word, the word that you heard. It speaks to the day’s general malaise, weather-wise. It is 39 F now, humming along to a 44 F high. My floofs are nestled into comfortable niches where they can sleep in warmth and safety.
Pretty much as expected, Republicans are descending into tit-for-tat politics, talking about trying to remove President Biden from the POTUS ballots in several states, reflecting their deranged approach to politics. “Because you removed Trump!” they whine. “Because look at what Biden is doing to the border,” they declare. “And his birth certificate. I mean, her emails. I mean, Hunter Biden.”
They’re descending into a new low level, setting themselves up as a punch line in history books. “Look at how they used to act,” people will say, discussing the GOP of this era. “How did they become so lost and confused about what was going on? What happened to their principles and leadership?” We in this era reply, they became consumed with desire to be in power. “Power tends to corrupt,” Lord Acton wrote in a previous century, summarizing what others had observed. Power tends to corrupt. That seems to be what we’re seeing in the GOP as they corrupt their values and principles to stay in power, no matter how they malign the ideal the founders established, no matter how far their behavior guides them from the principles they claim to uphold.
Of course, their hold on what is ‘supposed to be’ regarding our founders’ intentions are as nebulous as a kitten’s grip on their own tail. Can you imagine what the founders would be saying to Lauren Boebert after she declared that she was tired of this separation of church and state junk?
I can’t honestly say, though. I only wonder. I don’t know how they, the founders, would say to multiple arguments of this modern era. What would they say to the “Moms of Liberty” for banning ideas and books? How would they respond to Republicans like DeSantis declaring what parts of history should not be taught? And I don’t know how the founders would stand regarding the mass murders with automatic weapons that happen so routinely in the US in this ‘modern age of reason’. I like to think that the founders would be horrified and take action to stop it, but then, I thought the GOP, the ‘pro-life’ party as they call themselves without irony, would be horrified by the murders, deaths, and sorrows, and take some action. I just can’t gauge the depths of the GOP’s corruption, hypocrisy, and cynicism. Each time that I believe they’ve hit bottom, they go lower.
And of course, pundits are wondering, what will happen if Trump runs for POTUS in 2024 and loses? Will the GOP peacefully support the result, accept defeat, and continue with governing? Or will they go full-blown rebellion and insurrection? There is enough darkness glimmering in the MAGA base frothing at Trump’s whiney ‘campaigning’ that there is serious reason to believe they’ll go Jan 6 once again but escalate it to new levels of violence.
Meanwhile, a fragment of them will say the Pledge of Allegiance, loudly enunciating, “Under God”, and then talk about how they hate Democrats, and want to kill them or send them to another country. Do they have any self-awareness?
Beyond all that, The Neurons have the Eagles singing the 1980 song, “I Can’t Tell You Why”, in the morning mental music stream (Trademark separated). The Neurons had caught on with my thinking — they can be sharp at times — about not being able to comprehend and explain things. I can’t tell you why Republicans let Justice Clarence Thomas remain in office as revelations of his relationship with wealthy Republican patrons generate concern about Thomas’s ethics. I can’t tell you why they let Thomas remain involved in cases regarding Trump as POTUS in the face of revelations about his wife’s role. I can’t tell you why they turn a blind eye to Trump’s bullshit. I can declare it’s politics as usual, but it’s not the kind of politics seen in this nation for several decades. I thought, and it seems I was naive, that we as a political body, no matter the party, had evolved past that. Of course, I never foresaw what social media, AI, and web bots would do to our political discourse. I never foresaw people who weren’t being treated for mental issues clinging to insane conspiracy theories, and I can’t tell you why they cling to them. All I can do is make up my own theories.
Ah, well, time to shuffle news and politics aside and rebalance myself. Coffee helps, of course. Stay pos, be strong, and keep leaning forward. Don’t let yourself get too wrapped up in the minutiae of trying to understand and explain why. Keep your eye on our own shared goals of freedom, justice, democracy, and equality, and the idea that we should all enjoy them. I once read that those are pretty good ideals to chase.
Here’s the music. Admire the Eagle’s youth seen in this video, and remember. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 