Tag: singing

Wednesday’s Theme Music — History

Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday, August 26, 2026.

Just so you know, it will not be 08262026 ever again. As far as we know. The way some of this news cycle goes, some days feel like a rerun.

Damn, that’s a scary idea, that we’re living in the same days over and over again, a cosmic “Groundhog Day”.

Today’s weather is cooler again, 68 F, with light, high clouds. Today’s high is expected to achieve 86 F.

Oh, boy, the news today. Tim Curry died, 80. Montana man killed 8 members of his family. Lightning strike killed Mom and daughter in Florida, and the US claimed Chinese hackers broke into DoJ, the Senate, NASA, and the Federal Reserve.

Just a good news Wednesday.

News like this isn’t out of the ordinary. Other than the Chinese hacking, this could be the headlines compiled in many other years. Only names and locations have changed.

Trump is using the FBI hacking revelations to claim that the Chinese manipulated the 2020 election. I counter that the Chinese influenced the 2024 election, making Trump illegally elected. Therefore, Trump should be immediately removed from office, because Vice President Kamala Harris really won 2024.

See, Trump? I can make claims, too.

Speaking of that:

Obama for President in 2028!

Trump’s head will explode if he sees and hears that too much, so please, whatever you do, don’t put Obama for President in 2028 on any social media. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Speaking of Trump, this headline had me grinding my teeth.

Trump’s tariffs force closure of century-old Connecticut manufacturer

Yes, that Trump economy — great for the wealthy, but an excellent reminder that shit rolls down hill.

Mike Lindell is still out there. After losing the primary, he whined about the election being stolen. Refusing to concede, he’s asking for TROs and demanding a recount. In parallel, he missed the deadline for filing the payment for the recount he’s demanding. In his demands, he’s ignoring what Minnesota law requires, insisting that things are done his way for him.

Given how Lindell is handling this, doing it the same way that Trump would, making it all about him, Minnesota dodged a bullet when Lindell lost.

Today’s theme music is “After the Gold Rush”. This came into the morning mental music stream as I reflected on Dolly Parton passing. I remembered hearing the Trio — Emilylou Harris, Dolly Parton, and Linda Ronstadt — perform this. “After the Gold Rush” was written by Neil Young and released by him in 1970. It’s a reflective song with tripply lyrics about dreams, change, and being, IMO. Trio does a beautiful job of delivering it, recording and releasing it over a quarter century later.

I think it holds up well, but that’s me.

Sample Lyrics

I was thinking about what a friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie
Thinking about what a friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie

Well, I dreamed I saw the silver
Spaceships flying
In the yellow haze of the sun
There were children crying
And colors flying
All around the chosen ones

All in a dream, all in a dream

Thanks for the music, Dolly.

No matter where you are, I hope this post finds you well, and that you have a wonderful day.

Cheers

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That Kind of News

It’s the kind of news never wanted but always and never expected.

Dolly Parton, queen of country music and humanitarian hero, dead at 80

Never met her nor saw Dolly Parton live in concert. But she’s just ten years older than me and contributed song writing, singing, and acting to my life’s experiences. Dolly always seemed real and genuine — and you can make whatever joke comes to your mind — but I think the world is a better place with more people like Dolly Parton.

This one stings.

RIP forever, Dolly Parton.

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And Drink Coffee

Inspirational Quote # 5012

I think get this. It’s about letting go of yourself, releasing your ego and doubts, and permitting what is to come to make its way without ‘you’ hindering it.

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Just Remembered

I’m often visited by earworms. It’s a chronic thing. Songs from across my lifetime drop by in the part of my head where music memories reside, the mental music stream. This often happens in the morning, giving that realm the name, morning mental music stream.

These songs don’t just drop in and depart. They’re normally on a tour that lasts several days. Well, I recently shared a song as my day’s theme music, “Personal Jesus” by Depeche Mode. After dressing, heading out the door for the coffee shop this morning, I was singing it aloud as it played in the MMMS when I suddenly remembered Mom singing it to me once during a visit home, Mom, with her Doris Day voice.

Oh, that made me laugh. The song came out in 1989. I lived in Germany then, so I think it was when I came back to America in 1991 and visited her that the singing took place. I don’t know how she knew the song, but suspected it was through her daughters or grandchildren.

What a memory.

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Pasflooferine

Pasflooferine (floofinition) – Animals, including birds, who enjoy singing. Although some species are specifically known for their singing abilities, pflooferine isn’t defined as a species or genus, but as a individual characteristic.

In use: “Jade was a pasflooferine of the first order, singing just before dawn so others would get up and feed her, singing to be freed from the house at midnight and then singing again outside the bedroom window to be let back in, even singing a sad lament when she found her litter box not up to her standards.”

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A Vindication Dream

Had another night of uplifting and validating dreams. One stood out for me.

I was in Germany. To begin, I was racing down to get somewhere in my old white BMW 2002, but was forced to slow down abruptly, which I did. A divided road in a modern business area, it seemed strikingly familiar. After parking, I went in and found a friend, Jim. We were there to take classes. Not many people were in class, both men and women, of my age. Held outside, it was being taught in English. I don’t know the subject. Sessions flashed by, and then it was time for lunch. Jim and I walked down to a place together, following a general stream of people going as we did, just chatting along the way. Reaching a place we thought a restaurant, we entered and ascended different levels. At first, I searched for food. Then I needed a water closet. I thought I found one on the top floor, but when I opened it and entered, I found three children occupying it.

Backing out and away, I discovered that I didn’t know where Jim was, so I headed back to the class location. Few were around, but I encountered a pieced of masonry falling off a wall. As I tried to put it back, others told me, no, they want that removed because they’re replacing it. I didn’t think that would work because the wall beneath it was crumbling, but I figured the workmen and masons would know what they were doing.

Having time to kill, I found a place to nap on a heavy brown blanket in a low shelter where others were sitting. When I awoke, I discovered a man and a girl pantomiming around me. I guessed that I was on their blanket. The girl was upset that I was in her space, but the man was gesturing, ‘what could I do?’ Getting the message, I moved away.

Class was re-commencing anyway. We were directed to stand in a squad ranked by our height. I didn’t hear the directions being given but others helped me. A woman to my right called for our attention. We were to sing and harmonize. She spoke some words. A woman to my right in class sang them in a clear, high voice. I chose to counter it with a flat bass. We repeated that twice, and then the female director told us all to step. She had the woman and I repeat what we’d done. We did. The director announced, “Perfect. That’s exactly what we’re looking for. Stay right there.” Then she went off.

I felt flattered and vindicated, but also embarrassed as everyone started talking to me about what I was doing. I replied, I just did what I felt was right.

The dream ended.

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Entangled Writing Dreams

I don’t know how to describe last night’s dreams. Many and layered, I would awake from them, think about them, and drift back into the dream, or begin a new one.

I dreamed mostly about writing. I would dream I was writing. I dreamed I saw my books on shelves in stores. I dreamed I was signing autographs. I dreamed I was holding one of my books. Of course, I was pleased, proud and delighted to experience these dreams, even as I knew they were dreams.

Then I would dream I was writing again. Some of the dreams were staples of my blog posts of catfinitions. Other times, I dreamed about novels being conceived and pondered, and the novel in progress. I wrote scenes in my dreams, awoke and thought about the scenes, and returned to dreaming and writing. At one point, I awakened from a dream with an insight into something I’d thought of before, regarding ‘the cards’, and the sequencing of them. I hadn’t been comfortable with my execution of this as originally conceived, but here it was, explained in full in my dream. “I’ll need to think about this tomorrow,” I promised myself, because I didn’t want to awaken myself by thinking.

Then, in a break from dream writing, I dreamed I was singing in Spanish. A crowd of people were gathered to hear me. I don’t know what the song was, and was surprised in the dream when I realized it was me singing Spanish, because I don’t speak nor understand Spanish. I didn’t resemble myself in the dream so much as Fernando Alonso, the twice Formula 1 World Driving Champion from Spain. He and I look nothing alike but I knew in my dream that it was me.

In the morning, feeding cats, looking out windows and mentally perusing my dreams, I saw some of it as helpful for the novel in progress and other writing being contemplated. More, though, was wishful, optimism crystallized in dreams.

***

After writing the post and thinking more, I became curious about singing in a language I didn’t know in a dream, and so I did a search. This article was found, to add another twist to the dream.

After reading the article and watching the video, a connection to what I was writing in my novel leaped into my understanding. In it, with all of its entanglements, was the entanglement of a brain coping with something irrational and attempting to apply a veneer of logical explanation. This is done by appropriating others’ memories of the history they’d learned to apply an intelligent setting, from their perspective. In the way that it all works in my novel’s setting, something that works well for one person is borrowed and applied by others as being true, and becomes the basis for the reality of ‘now’ shared to create our impression of our lives.

Fun stuff, and a h/t to my dream brain and Psychology Today for boasting my insights into my writing.

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