Monday, October 30, 2023, arrived as fresh as cherries picked off the tree and as cold as an icebox. Hovering at 42 F, sunshine eventually warmed air and soil until it’s now 67 F in Ashlandia, where arts are prevalent and the Oregon Shakespeare Festival is above average.
Clear and cloudless nights have given us terrific moonlight, like an enormous spotlight was casting blue-white light across the land. Papi likes the moonlight but dislikes the cold and wind, and usually returns post haste after a quick trot around the yard. Tucker felt the air and was willing to sleep out there but I forced him in, enduring his grumblings and protests until he finally surrendered to his fate and went to sleep on my desk.
I like how Tucker’s language has evolved over the years. When he first joined us as a lost, unclaimed stray, he rarely made a noise unless he was fighting with another cat. Then he developed a plaintive meow he’d infrequently employ to request food, attention, or door assistance. When Boo, his number one enemy, passed away, Tucker became very loud and vocal for a few months. Since then, he’s developed a low murmuring conversation style, like he’s speaking sentences but which are not meows. It’s hilarious to me to ask, “Are you hungry,” and listen to him respond with burbling, “Brrpty mrrpka yrpp kerp mmmm,” or the like.
Tucker’s behavior inspired The Neurons when it came to today’s theme music. The big black and white fur booger likes for me to pick him up, give him some sugar, and walk around with him a bit before feeding him. He’ll sit down and look up at me all big-eyed and earnestly say, “Errp nerrp?” I usually repeat it back to him, and he’ll reply, “Mrrpy.” I’ve decided ‘errp nerrp’ means, ‘carry me’ or ‘pick me up’, and ‘mrrpy’ means ‘yes’.
Spying on me as The Neurons so often do, they punked me by playing the Doobie Brothers and their 1975 cover of a Motown song, “Take Me in Your Arms”, in the morning mental music stream (Trademark fading).
Remain pos, stay strong, and keep marching forward, even if you must use tiny steps. With a little coffee, I’ll try doing the same.
Just the facts, folks: 47 F and sunny. This is Sunday, October 29, 2023 in Ashlandia, where the marijuana is local and above average. We’ll be in low sixties as our high point today but all that sunshine and blue sky makes it bracing and invigorating. Across the street, the huge, very old maple remains festooned with golden brown leaves. Soaked in sunlight, standing tall against blue sky, the tree seems majestic and steadying.
Stepping out with the cats, though, a determined northern wind delivers the taste and smell of winter. Papi, the ginger blade, still launches himself into the outdoors, foraging for summer for a bit before returning to the house’s protection and surrendering to the change. Tucker, the older black and white fellow, has probably felt the change in his bones and tucks for more sleep on the bed.
Once again, so many, many dreams. They leave me thinking and sometimes typing to understand what I’m thinking. Altogether, they were convulsive, erratic pastiche of experiences with a huge cast of people. What a trip they were.
After the latest US mass shooting — Lewiston, Maine, a forty-year-old shooter, 18 dead, dozens injured — I’d been thinking about the world’s state. Wars, greed, selfishness, and the rise of white supremacy, antisemitism, racism, sexism complicates our fragile existence on this rock. A small but growing number of people seem to think that the answers to our complex problems are in the past. Some claim that it’s all about God and religious and cites things like Christianity and religion as the answer, even as their behavior toward their fellow humans often stands starkly opposite of Christianity’s tenets against greed and for helping your fellow human.
Between the dreams and the the world’s state, The Neurons ended up plating up “Helter Skelter” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark comical). The Beatles wrote and released the song in 1968. One of their hardest rockers, the song became associated with Charles Manson and the murders committed in his name in 1969 in Los Angeles, CA. With that, the song has become embedded with ideas of chaos and destruction.
That’s true with me. I originally thought of it as a druggy come on about sex, based on the words about going up and coming down, then doing it again. The drug part arrives on the song’s feelig of changing moods and disorder.
And there we are: disorder. That’s how I see us now. Polarized and disordered, confused as a civilization about where we’re going and even where we want to go.
Ah, sorry for the pessimistic vibes. Maybe coffee will save me. Be strong and positive, and keep leaning forward. Here’s the music, a recording of a live version of Paul, without the rest of the Beatles. Cheers
Slipperday, October 28, 2023, skated into Ashlandia, where people walk carefully in the shadows, wary that their feet will find ice and take them down. Spiky clumps of green grass stand tall, sprayed white, and stiff with cold. A wind keen with an icy edge lashes the house. It’s 31 F outside but no fear; sunshine is lifting over the trees and mountains. Soon the sun will gain enough elevation to pump some heat into the moment. We’ll be sizzling in the mid-50s F by the mid afternoon.
Warmer weather is on the way. November’s early days next week will take us into the mid to upper sixties as autumn entertains a last hurrah before December flexes in. All we can do is watch and adjust, and brace for holidays.
I have “Burning Down the House” by Talking Heads ringing out in the morning mental music stream (Trademark burning). The Neurons put it in there after a convo with friends and general remarks made about GOP intentions. Some thought they were burning down the house, others posited they were burning down the government, burning down the country, burning down the world, through their calculated disinterest, continuing efforts to manufacture and stoke divisions and fears.
The song title and repeating phrase, “Burning down the house,” is a metaphor as I understand it, about the house not burning down but being torn apart. In an interview heard years ago, David Byrne, who wrote the song, said it was also about schizophrenia.
[Verse 2] Hold tight, wait till the party’s over Hold tight, we’re in for nasty weather There has got to be a way Burning down the house
[Chorus 1] Here’s your ticket, pack your bag, it’s time for jumping overboard The transportation is here Close enough but not too far, maybe you know where you are Fighting fire with fire, ah!
[Verse 3] All wet, here, you might need a raincoat Shake-down, dreams walking in broad daylight Three hundred sixty-five degrees Burning down the house
[Chorus 2] It was once upon a place, sometimes I listen to myself Gonna come in first place People on their way to work say, “Baby, what did you expect?” Gonna burst into flame, ah
Burning down the house
[Verse 4] My house is out of the ordinary That’s right, don’t wanna hurt nobody Some things sure can sweep me off my feet Burning down the house
So it seems apt as a theme song. We have elected officials in the form of Republicans (Marjorie Taylor Greene, Mike Ross, Lauren Boebert) who don’t understand the Constitution or are willing to dismiss it (and people’s rights) for the expediency of their own religion, rights, and privilege. There’s the schizophrenic part – elected to serve but instead tearing the government down – as well as the tearing down the house aspect.
I think The Neurons made a superb choice, and this live video is sharp with sound and energy.
Stay pos, be strong, and keep moving forward. Freshly delivered coffee will fuel my flight today. Here’s the music. Cheers
Friday, October 27, 2023, slid into Ashlandia on icy paws, clear skies, and sunshine. Was 32 F. Warming now, and people are out walking among the gold, rose, and brown fallen leaves. None of the walkers kick them up, as I like to do as I march thlrough drifts on the paths.
Ashlandia, where the trees were imported and the people revere them, will reach the mid fifties by late afternoon. Now is the time to prepare for freezing weather, if you’ve not done that already. Disconnect the hoses and bring them in. Cover the outdoor faucets to protect them from freezing.
I’ve done those things. Now I need to deal with the furnace which just doesn’t seem to be warming us as we expect. Don’t suggest the thermostat or the filters; both are new and the vents are clean and unobstructed. No, some other technical challenge is behind this matter. I’ll search the net for what to do.
The Neurons hooked me up with Van Morrison in the morning mental music stream (Trademark facetious). Started while I was driving yesterday. A station played Steve Winwood doing “Higher Love”, a song I enjoy, inducing me to increase the volume and sing along. Counting Crows followed up with “A Long December” which forced my finger to find the volume button and add just a little more volume. Lenny Kravitz followed and a little more volume was added.
From that process of events, sounds, and thinking, The Neurons put “Caravan” from 1970 into the stream, where it remained this morning. That’s because of the Van’s repeatitive urging, “Turn it up. Turn it up. On the radio.” I went with the version from The Last Waltz to help release it from the mental music stream, where Van Morrison is backed by The Band. Hope you like it.
Here we go, out to westing with traffic, time, weather, writing, and intentions once again. Stay positive, be strong, and remain steadfast. Coffee is steaming from a mug beside me. Here’s the music. Cheers
Winter stepped closer to us today. Though it’s Thursday, October 26, 2023, in Ashlandia, where the animals are heading for hibernation, and so are quite a few people, the lows are now in the thirties at night. Our present temp here is 38 F, and it’s blue-sky sunny. Today’s high will be in the low to mid sixties, but tonight will drop to 32 and more snow will kiss the elevations.
Snow on the els is a good thing, though. Snowpacks require replenishing, as do all the ways we save water to support ourselves through the dry, hot summer.
Today’s mood (disappointed) results from the House GOP Speaker vote. With Rep Johnson installed, another right turn toward the dark edge was taken. Yeah, pessimist, aren’t I? No reason to believe otherwise. Modeates went along with him because they realized that the GOP’s naked dysfunction was ugly optics. Voters no like, markets no like, allies no like. Had to change those optics somehow. And Rep Johnson, a hard right conservative who preaches religion to save us while stamping out abortion choices and rights but affable enough to get along with all the GOP factions, is their Missouri Compromise, a temporary peace with nothing resolved.
My internal optimist suggest wait; see. My pragmatist laughed at my optimist.
Feel like we’re just bleeding the Earth dry. Suck out all the fossil fuels. Drink all the water, bottle it up and sell it for a few dollars more, or throw it on landscaping and golf courses. Douse the crops and fill the swimming pools. We keep butting up to limits. So what will be cut? Who will stop getting water? The wealthy and powerful will keep getting water. ‘Cause they’re the ones with the most say in a capitalistic democracy. Some voters and citizens will shrug it all off as a temporary setback or completely deny it’s happening. Others will desperately fight to change our course but will be blocked and obstructed every time, on every initiative. That’ll go on right up to the bitter end, when even the wealthy start singing the out of water blues.
Speaking of vampires and blues, The Neurons eavesdropped on my whining and dropped Neil Young and “Vampire Blue” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark fading). It’s a classic Young song, spare of chords, simple structure and words, delivered in a weary tone. At least, that’s how I har him.
Stay pos, vote, be strong and keep getting up after you go down. I’ll do the same. Just pour some coffee down my throat first, would’cha? Say, how much water does coffee take? I’m as addicted as the rest to the way it was.
Rain baptises Wednesday, October 25, 2023 in Ashlandia, where the bears are above average and the people are wary.
At 41 degrees, which feels cold with that falling rain and sun hiding behind the clouds’ skirts, I infer winter’s edge invading. There is some evidence that winters coming on, with storm warnings of snow falling above 3500 feet in the mountains north and east of us. Crater Lake, 99 miles away by winding mountain roads, is expecting the most snow.
Today’s high: (fanfare) 48 F.
For Wednesday’s theme music, The Neurons shoved “Spill the Wine” by Eric Burdon and War into the morning mental music stream (Trademark reinvented). The song and its presence is hitched to a coffee shop incident where a woman (who I assumed was mom) urged a precious looking little girl in cowperson boots and a shiny dress and a pink coat, “Don’t spill it,” as some drink was slid in the girl’s direction and she eagerly reached.
Replied the little girl in a matter-of-fact enunciation as she aimed a green plastic straw toward her mouth, “You know I won’t spill it. I’ve very careful.”
“Yes, you are,” the assumed mom replied.
Hearing that started The Neurons with that soft percussion sounds that open “Spill the Wine”. Then the sweeping organ punched up the song and the funky rythym began. It’s a memorable song, talking about being given surreal instructions about taking a pearl and digging a girl.
Stay pos, be strong, enjoy life, and keep moving forward. Here’s the music and there’s my coffee. Time to crank on, once again. Cheers
I’m careening along through the year, charging toward the next month with barely time to notice this month. So it feels, and has felt.
Today is Tuesday, October 24, 2023 in Ashlandia, where cheese, bread, and wine are made locally and taste above average. Leaves with fading colors litter the ground, crowding against curbs, huddling in storm drains and taking shelter against buildins and in bushes. High cirrocumulus offerings mark the blue sky’s ceiling like small pieces of popcorn. They’re moving east at an impressive clip as more serious looking stratus flow in from the east, heading west. 52 F now, 61 F is the purported high, according to those who know. Rain showers are forecast for this evening.
Songwise, I have “It’s Ok” buzzing in my head, a gift from The Neurons. Overhearing a person actually saying those words in the coffee shop, The Neurons immediately slotted them into the morning mental music stream (Trademark fabricated).
Released by Imagine Dragons in 2021, the song is about feeling different or being different. You know that feeling, right? Probably. I think most people feel it at one time or another, a sense that they’re either lost or out of step with everyone else, maybe confused about the beat they’re marching to because no one else hears it. The song reassures us that being so is acceptable.
It’s okay to be not okay It’s just fine to be out of your mind Breathe in deep, just a day at a time ‘Cause it’s okay to be out of your mind, mind
Another Monday is about us in Ashlandia, where the rain falls mainly in the valley, and the streams and rivers swell with the results.
The weather is 52 F, cloudy and rainy. Forecasters warn that today’s high will be 65 F, with intermittent clouds, but it won’t rain. It’s a good coffee and reading day.
As for the world outside of Ashlandia, there were no overnight miracles. The news reports that the ongoing wars are still ongoing, one in Europe, and one in the middle-east. Besides those two, the GOP still wars with the GOP in the US. I don’t look for a quick or happy resolution to the war in the middle-east, but expect it to trudge on as has happened with Russia and Ukraine in Europe.
To summarize, led by the hardline Gang of Eight, the Republicans outsted their own guy as Speaker, Kevin McCarthy, even though they’re all part of the majority party nominally known as the GOP. Since booting McCarthy, the House has not been functioning much.
Note: the House wasn’t doing much before losing its Speaker, mostly because the GOP was determined to be the Grand OBSTRUCTIONIST Party. This is largely because a Democrat is POTUS, and most of the GOP’s ideas involve stripping rights from others, banning books, and keeping fossil fuels as the nation’s primary energy source.
Steve Scalise, House Majority Leader, R-La, tried and failed to become the new House Speaker, and withdrew after that one attempt.
Jim Jordan, a hardliner from Ohio, tried and failed after three rounds of voting to become Speaker. Just couldn’t find the votes. He’s considered too hard right and has never been known to compromise. Besides that, he has a poor legislative record.
“Critics of Rep. Jim Jordan (R-Ohio) have increasingly pointed to this – most notably the fact that he has yet to get a bill signed into law since being elected in 2006.” h/t to UnionLeader.com.
A line during Saturday Night Live’s cold open captured the essence of Jim Jordan’s attempt to be Speaker: “I want to be Speaker so that government starts functioning again so I can shut it down.” That’s the gist of Jordan’s politics. He doesn’t like ‘big’ government.
These wars complicate the world’s already precarious situation. The biggest crises we face in 2023 is growing food shortages and rising food costs, per ReliefWeb. Food shortages are worsening because war is tearing up farms and arable land, and growing extreme weather is damaging crops and disrupting growing seasons.
What a mess we’re in, and so much of it is brought on by our own actions. But just as so many addicts of drugs and addictives are helpless to save themselves, so it seems, are we.
Let’s go on to more pleasant matters, like music.
My wife was telling me a story about a conversation between her and some friends. I thought, “Oh, shit, sparks are going to fly now,” as I laughed, because I knew the husband and wife involved and how they were going to react.
Boom, The Neurons pounced, delivering “Master of Sparks” by ZZ Top into my head, where it remains in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sagging). This feels like a case of needing to play it for others to unloop it from my mental music stream, so here we are, me presenting it to you as Monday’s theme music.
The song is part of the first ZZ Top album I ever listened to, Tres Hombres, from 1973. I was seventeen. My buddy, Scott, brought it into high school art class as part of the established routine of listening to music while drawing and painting. One take of that album and I was smitten.
“Master of Sparks” turned out to be one of those songs that caught my attention as I was drawing because I was struggling to figure out what it was about. “What are they singing, Scott?” I asked. He brought it in, so I thought he’d know.
Sweeping his long bangs off his face, he grinned at me with big eyes. “I don’t know. Sounds cool, though doesn’t it?”
Scott introduced me to many new rock bands during that time, and shaped my musical preferences. Highly intelligent, athletic, and creative, Scott started at our school in my junior year after being tossed out from a well-regarded prep school. We shared multiple classes and were on several sports teams together. We also were both very rebellious.
Taking the question seriously, Scott returned two days later and told me that “Master of Sparks” is telling a story about a ball-shaped steel cage that the narrator was in. My reaction was basically, “Whaaa?”
Scott explained that he and Rick listened to it again and again at Scott’s house, and decided that’s what the song was about. Thanks to the net, I know they were right.
High class Slim came floating in Down from the county line Just getting right on Saturday night Riding with some friends of mine They invited me to come and see Just what was on their minds And then I took my first long look At the Master of Sparks on high
In the back of Jimmy’s Mack Stood a round steel cage Welded into shape by Slim Made out of sucker gauge How fine, they cried now with you inside Strapped in there safe and sound I thought, my-o-my, how the sparks will fly If that thing ever hit the ground
Slim was so pleased when I had eased Into his trap of death He had slammed the door but I said no more And I thought I’d breathed my last breath We was out in the sticks down Highway Six And the crowd was just about right The speed was too, so out I flew Like a stick of rolling dynamite
When I hit the ground You could hear the sound And see the sparks a country mile End over end I began to spin But the ball started running wild But it was too late as I met my fate And the ball started getting hot But through the sparks and the flame I knew that the claim Of the Master of Sparks was gone
After greeting us with sunshine this morning, Sunday, October 22, 2023, has served non-stop rain to Ashlandia, where the fresh air is never canned and the drivers are extra-distracted.
Well, first, my apologies. I’m glum today, even irritated and moody. This is due to my illness. It’s plagued me for over two weeks. Nothing deep nor serious, just enough to be bothersome. After convincing myself I was rid of it, the sore throat, lethargy, and headache parts all stormed back. Just depressing, you know? And irritating.
And frustrating. Did I mention that? I’d entertained visions of industrious editing and revising and this damn sickness just undercut all intentions. I’ve been gritting my teeth in a struggle to will myself through it. Instead, I just want to sit back, feeling sorry for myself, reading and chilling. Heavy sigh emerges after I acknowledge and type that.
I’ve tried to edit and revise twice; it’s a challenge today. Some of this is because I’m dealing with a very abstract notion toward the novel’s end. I’m attempting to transition it from its abstract roots into something real and authentic. Patience, deep thinking, and persistence are needed, and I’m struggling to generate those today.
Today’s theme music is “Black Hole Sun” by Soundgarden. I came up with this by myself, without The Neurons’ help. It came about from watching clouds move in and overwhelm the morning sunshine, undermining my enthusiasm for the day. These days come, of course. It’s not necessarily indicative of anything except a crappy-ish day. It’ll pass.
Meanwhile, I’ve always enjoyed “Black Hole Sun”. It comes across as a declaration to me. The words are sort of contradictory — “Black hole sun, won’t you come, and wash away the rain” — but that somehow springs some defiant hope in me. Perhaps it’s just the plaintive way it first comes across before exploding with brashness, a tone and mood reinforced with hard guitar chords and rolling drums. Besides those elements, weariness is wired into the verses such as this one:
It’s a stream of consciousness of spent energy, which is much how I feel today. I should warn you, it’s a bizarre video.
Stay pos — at least more positive than me, please — and be strong. I’m trying to move forward; hope you do as well. More coffee, please, black as the sun, hot as ice. Here’s the music. Cheers
Slidding into place like a giant oceanliner docking, Saturday, October 21, 2023, arrived in Ashlandia, where the coffee shops are pleasant, and the library is above average.
Cooler temperatures prevail today. Several large masses of feathery white clouds breached the southeastern horizon and now master half of Ashlandia. They block the sun. With those clouds in place and the Earth’s position on its orbit relative to the sun, it’s 53 F now and will reach 75 today, chillier than yesterday. Tomorrow is expected to deliver rain and a high of 61 F as summer’s efforts to hold on slide away and autumn more firmly asserts itself.
Lot of news this week in war and politics. Keeping up with the mess that is Israel, Palestine, Gaza, and Hamas, is wearying and sickening. It’s complicated, and war, with the killing and destruction which war brings, will do nothing to make anyone feel better. When will that mess be resolved enough to achieve a lasting and settled peace?
Of course, the mess in Congress continues. This is the one caused by the majority party, the GOP, voting out their speaker. A contentious hard rightwing gang forced the vote. Democrats, never pleased with Kevin McCarthy, a Trumpublican, were given the opportunity to rid themselves of him, and did. Now Repubublicans, the parents of this mess, are blaming Democrats for voting against McCarthy.
That’s quite laughable, isn’t it? Democrats are the more progressive and liberal party between the two parties. Republicans who routinely denounce Democrats, try to derail the Democrats’ agenda and counter the Democrats’ policies, now blame the Democrats for not supporting the Republican hard right speaker.
Enought of politics, although I could air grievances againts GOP for days. Instead, let’s turn to crime.
Interesting developments in former POTUS Donald J Trump’s court cases, right? Up in New York, things seem to be slidding down a long messy slope for Trump. This is the civil trial in which Trump is being accused of fraud in how he valuates his real estate holdings and developments.
First, the judge fined Trump for not obeying the gag order imposed on select aspects of the trial. This is because Trump posted a photo of the court clerk with a Democratic politician, Chuck Schumer, with the misleading caption, “Schumer’s girlfriend.”
Next, Trump got upset and vocal over witness testimony. That prompted warnings from the judge to Trump about his deportment.
“Inside the courtroom, which is closed to cameras, Trump grew irritated as Larson testified. Trump’s lawyers were seeking to undercut the state’s claims that his top corporate deputies played games to inflate the values of his properties and pad his bottom line.
“In a series of questions, Trump lawyer Lazaro Fields sought to establish that Larson had, at one point, undershot the projected 2015 value of a Trump-owned Wall Street office building by $114 million. Larson said the “values were not wrong — it’s what we knew at the time.”
“Trump threw up his hands during the exchange.”
Meanwhile, in Trump’s Georgia trial, two co-defendants have taken plea agreements.This case involves charges against Trump and nineteen others in a RICO trial. The accused are charged with interfering with the 2020 POTUS election, among other charges. The two co-defendants, Sydney Powell of kracken fame, and Kenneth Chesebro, took the deals in exchange for testifying as witnesses.
It’s such a complex affair, it’s difficult to project how these moves will ultimately affect the outcome. At the least, though, Trump who acts imperiously and demands loyalty, will be deeply angry.
Now, to music. I was at a store with my wife yesterday afternoon, buying birthday cards for friends and relatives. I heard an elderly man shout, “Is anyone going to serve me?” I stepped out and immediately spotted him at the mouth of another aisle about ten feet away. He might have been eighty years old from his wizened appearance, and about five feet tall, in sagging jeans and work boots. I don’t know what was going on but a sales person was hurrying to him.
Well, just as quickly, The Neurons spooled up Bob Dylan with his 1979 song, “Gotta Serve Somebody” in the mental music stream. The song was still playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark resented).
The song has Dylan’s unique style and insights. The song lists multiple people by profession or position in life, always beginning, “You may be.” But after listing these people, Dylan asserts, “But you’re going to have to serve somebody, yes indeed.” The implications are, we’re all beholden to someone, even if it’s the devil or God.
Stay pos, be safe, and stay calm and strong. Coffee has been imbibed, I can report. Here’s the video.
Michael Seidel, writer 