Today’s Theme Music

This choice for theme music, ‘Road to Hell’, has been around for a while. It’s hard to find a good recording of it online. A good recording is important; the song begins with the sounds of rain on a car and the sweep of wiper blades across the windshield.

The song’s sentiments, that we’re on a the road to hell, are reflected by various people and organizations. No matter the issues, politics or religions, who wins or who loses, someone will declare, this is the road to hell. Funny enough, every time I think of the road to hell, I think of a book by one of my favorite authors, Roger Zelazny, and ‘Damnation Alley’, which wasn’t a terrific novel. It’s appropriate to think of Zelazny and Rea together on a day like this, when surreal is the ‘word of the year’.

Back to the music, Chris Rea, ‘Road to Hell’, 1989. The song was originally listed as Parts I and II. Part I is like an essay with accompanying instruments:

Stood still on the highway

I saw a woman

by the side of the road

With a face I knew like my own

reflected

in my window.

Part II of Chris’ lyrics begins, “Well, I’m standing by a river, but the water doesn’t flow. It boils with every poison you can think of.” Too frequently, here in America, we’re encountering poisoned rivers and drinking supplies. Flint, Michigan leaps to mind, but a small city not far from my town has been enduring several months of boil and do not drink orders for their water supplies. Googling for such news turns up multiple more examples.

It does make one think, “Yeah, we’re on the road to hell.” Just in time for the holidays.

 

Not Always Quick

I’m not always a quick thinker. Otherwise, I would have answers today.

It’s about a dream. Yeah. I should have asked myself, why are you dreaming this? I don’t recall ever featuring pigs in a dream before.

I was feeding a pig. He was a shiny little pink porker. He came downstairs in my house, a very happy and excited little creature. I had company. Friends were visiting. I didn’t want the pig downstairs. So I called him and led him back upstairs.

It was messy upstairs. It seems like we were in a transition. My intention was to feed the pig some cornflakes. He found some on the floor and gobbled them up, but he wanted more. I thought he spotted more but they  turned out to be scraps of paper. He didn’t want to eat those. As I searched for corn flakes to feed him, another pig, slightly larger but equally pink and shiny, emerged, along with a few cats. So I talked to them, telling them I was looking for food and was going to feed them, even as I couldn’t find the food that I expected. I headed downstairs to find some.

I had company, three former co-workers from a flying unit. Laying on sofas, they were watching television and playing games while they chatted to me and my wife. I was annoyed because they had disconnected the best television and were employing old cathode ray televisions on carts. I set about fixing that.

Meanwhile, another friend from the same unit showed up. I asked him what he thought of his new position. He replied, “This is what war sounds like.” Then, using a gallon paint can, he made a metallic rumbling noise that was loud and unpleasant. “All the time,” he said.

Others, less known but known, showed up. Setting up tables, they sat down to prepare food to feed me. I was embarrassed and grateful for their efforts, but I kept trying to tell them that it wasn’t necessary. They ignored me, continuing to cook.

Pigs…confusion…identity. It’s something to research and think about today, since I didn’t bother to ask myself for clarification when it was happening. I’ll need to think quicker next time.

Blackbird

I’m often frustrated with myself, questioning my mind, cringing at things I’ve done in the past, and challenging my motives and stances, and trying to learn and grow. It’s complicated and wearying.

Part of this is about being a guy. As a guy, I enjoy speed, power, football. I’m a beer drinker, but was a Jack and Coke guy for decades, and a cigar smoker. I was known for being hard-ass about getting the mission accomplished.

The other is about being a human. As a human, I want peace, freedom and equality for everyone. As a human, pro football is barbaric; speed and power – Formula One, NASCAR, fighter jets and rockets – are unnecessary indulgences. As a guy, those things are awesome, and pro football, as practiced by the NFL, is cerebral but violent, graceful, fast…and violent.

Within those boundaries, I grew up in love with speed and technology. They’re most ultimately married in aerospace technology in my thinking, part of science fiction’s magnetic appeal. And within that domain, there is little like the Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird.

I was stationed at Kadena Air Base, Okinawa, Japan, for four years in the early 1980s. Kadena AB has long runways and is strategically located on the Pacific’s edge. Blackbirds, dubbed Habus by the locals, flew in and out all the time. Being down on the flight line and watching one take off just after sunset, when the sky is a diluted Royal blue and watching those big engines release orange and blue tongues, was beauty in motion. Wheels up, they turned up, and quickly disappeared. I watched until I could no longer see it.

New Atlas has a terrific interview with a Habu pilot. Brian Shul was shot down and left for dead in Cambodia before being rescued. Eventually becoming an SR-71 pilot, Loz Blaine had a nice piece on him, well worth reading for the human side of people using this technology.

The two links embedded in the article are also worthwhile. Both are funny. One is about an air speed pissing contest posted at Opposite Lock. The other is about doing a favor for an ex-SR-71 pilot via a slow flyby and giving some young boys something to talk about, published on Foxtrot Alpha.

I hope you check them out and enjoy them as much as me.

Greetings from a Sexagenarian

Back when my mother was in her late seventies, she went dancing on Friday nights. She often mentioned how much she enjoyed it, and enthused about the old people and their dancing skills and energy.

That always drew my laughter. “The old people? Mom, you’re old.”

Impatience snapped through her response. “I mean the really old people, you know, in their nineties.”

While I understood her point, it amused me that she didn’t think of herself as old. Now, at sixty, I understand better.

My wife was in a conversation with a man in his mid-eighties. She’s a few years younger than me and mentioned to him that she was middle-aged.

He seemed amused. “Middle-aged? Isn’t that well behind you?”

I was taken back when she told me. If she’s younger than me and she’s not middle-aged, than what am I? What constitutes middle-age?

Does it matter?

Not really, and yes, and no. Middle-aged, as already demonstrated, is a vague, inaccurate term. Definitions by psychologists and institutions vary, as it does by era and culture.

Part of it, which disturbed Mom, and bothers me, are the connotations associated by these terms, young, middle-aged, and elderly. Think ‘young’ and contemplate the images and ideas springing to mind. Substitute ‘elderly’ and ‘middle-aged’.

Yet, in most of the advanced world, these labels mean less and less. So I’m taking up the Latin route. I’m sixty, so call me a sexagenarian. I like it. Easy to spell, and it has sex embedded right in it. Mom, in her eighties, is an octogenarian.

I mean, what does middle-age conspire to mean? I’ve been accused of being immature, old beyond my years, and an old man before his time. I’ve also been deemed young at heart by some, immature, or young in spirit by others. My older friends – in their late sixties to upper eighties – call me their young friend.

It’s all context and impressions. Like everything else, a spectrum of behavior, expectations and impressions establishes others’ perceptions and judgement. Yet this can change by day. Give me a short night of sleep and I can appear as a cranky old man. Pour a little beer in me and I can be as immature as a two-year old. Mostly, I’m somewhere in between.

I don’t dress ‘old’ but nor I dress ‘young’. I adopt dress that is neat without calling attention to me. My hair is thinning and retreating as fast as antarctic ice (but with less alarm), and when the sun gets its rays on it, it goes silver and white. Do I care?

Hell, yes.

And hell, no.

See, I’m trapped on that spectrum. I logically understand aging and its impact. I also appreciate the freedom of aging, and its limitations. I know I can’t do anything about it, nor influence others’ impressions of my age and their labels, so why care? But then someone says, “Isn’t middle-age behind you?” and I’m newly irked.

In the future setting of my novels, ‘Returnee’ and ‘Long Summer’, you can bet it’s addressed, because we’re driven by advertising, perception and self-image, themes that sharpen in that future setting. You can bet that a civilization that has developed a technological work-around to dying has done the same with aging’s impact and their appearance.

It becomes an exercise for the characters and their thinking. Many embrace genetic sculpting to develop a look which they like and others appreciate. It’s just like hair, mustache and beard styles and colors, or even jewelry. Some take up the approach, how do I want to look today? What color should my skin, eyes, and hair be? Others emulate famous people, but more establish a look and keep it. A few chose to resemble cats, dogs, dragons, centaurs, and other creatures. It’s almost free and relatively easy.

The 4G in my future (the fourth generation of space colonists) have taken it to an extreme, part of their statement about who they are and their stand. Their leaders look prepubescent. That fad is spreading. They think it’s a meaningful statement of who they are and represent, but others who have lived longer and done more, mostly understand how little that appearance really means. There are some who are more easily swayed, or want to be included in the new youth movement. It’s fun to think about and one of the great joys of writing fiction.

In one of my vaguely conceptualized ideas, people who become zombies immediately look young and beautiful, which sways a large segment of weak thinking people, who want to look young and beautiful again. And as zombies, they have no cares about work, taxes, politics, wars, civil rights or the environment.

Which takes me from here to there and back again. Because, after all, weren’t we really talking about mindless zombie thinking about what it means to be old?

 

‘Speak, Memory’ and Me

‘Speak, Memory’  is a recounting of one person’s creation of a bot based on a friend to cope with their grief. The bot is based on her friend’s emails. It is a fascinating read into how one person turns to clever use of technology and information to bridge her loss.

The tale has meaning to me for my writing. Memory is an enormous aspect of the future in ‘Returnee’ and ‘Long Summer’. While death is conquered through complex machinations involving resurrection, regeneration or cloning (multiple paths exist), and diseases and illnesses are staved off by embedded nano-meds (which use compilers and teleporters to seamlessly import medicines and treat you without pause), memory is a larger problem. First, your pre-death memories must be stored and accurately restored to you when you’re returned to the living. People living longer need to remember more, especially as space exploration and colonization exponentially expands and technology keeps racing ahead. Memory thus becomes augmented with biological drives as well as networks. You’re constantly connected.

As part of this extrapolation of what might be, memories of specific people, such as grandparents, are further developed through big data/social media mining. This creates a far deeper and broader database of their personality. Further, the database is housed in an avatar and AI dedicated to being that person. So, for example, your grandfather can be summoned into your presence as an avatar and converse and interact as your companion, even though he passed away several hundred years ago, or still lives, but is on the galaxy’s far side.

Last, as people struggle to remember specifics, many have created a separate avatar that houses the augmented, expanded personal memory. For Brett, his memory is an attractive tan blonde. He does not name her but calls her ‘memory’. Madison Handley, however, once based her memory on Mal Reynolds from ‘Serenity’ and ‘Firefly’. After out-growing it, she changes her memory’s appearance and disposition several times. By the time of ‘Long Summer’, when she’s become a pirate, her memory has taken on the aspect of Grutte Pier, the Frisian pirate formally known as Piers Gerlofs Donia.

As a further component of memory and extended living, I had to determine what route memory will take. Are future people’s memory perfect? What does it mean to perfectly recall a moment? Recent studies show that our memory is very imperfect, and those imperfections help us cope with existence and survive. Oh, the lies we tell ourselves. As part of that, which version of memory is collected? The perfect, unbiased version, or our personal edition? In the end, both are collected but only law enforcement normally accesses the perfect memory to resolve conflicts and solve crimes.

The rest of us prefer our personal recollections.

Nobel Prizes

Love the Nobel Prize for Physics this year. You’ve probably heard but I’m a pedantic beast so I’ll tell you that three Brits, working in the US, won the Nobel Prize for their work in exotic matter.

David J. Thouless, F. Duncan M. Haldane, and J. Michael Kosterlitz are the three awardees. Being a science fiction fan, I love such work that pushes our thinking into new directions and recognizes new potential.

Over in Medicine, Yoshinori Ohsumi won for his work on cells that eat themselves in a process called autophagy. I pay less attention to medicine than physics, so my reaction was…whhaaat?

These discoveries and the explanations behind them unroll reams of imagination and story ideas. I swear my brain began overheating. I’ll never understand this stuff but it’s cool to think about theoretical applications and situations, and how you can take off into new directions. So many ideas and stories, so little time. My mortality and human limitations really limit me.

(Hah, and there’s another kernel of an idea for a story/novel/incident. So many ideas….)

Knowledge! Got to love it.

 

 

What I’m Following

I try to follow the news and escape the echo chambers. Demoralizing as so many American newspapers essentially offer the same take on every story. So vanilla. Meanwhile, columnists along the political spectrum are generally predictable about what they’ll claim, reducing their value. I like jumping out of the US and checking the news on BBC America, and British, Canadian and Australian newspapers for coverage of American events. I still dance through WaPo, SFGate, NYTimes, Boston.com, Forbes and a few others on a regular daily/weekly basis.

I’m following theSkimm because a friend recommended it. They read so I can skim. I wanted to see how they read and interpret.

Longreads take me into places I wouldn’t otherwise know. Longreads offer compelling, vivid stories. They take a lot of time to read. Yes, I read the Nation, the Atlantic, and Rolling Stone, which also have long articles. Oi.

Haven’t seen anything on theSkimm or Longreads about Lionel Shriver’s opening address at the Brisbane Writers Festival regarding cultural appropriation, but there’s an eruption of blog posts, newspaper columns and editorials about the complex, challenging situation. Wow.

Trying to drift into a different direction, I’ve been checking out Merry Jane’s website. Marijuana is morphing into a large and legitimate business in Oregon, with signs like ‘Exit here for the BEST marijuana’ emerging alongside Interstate 5, right beside signs claiming to have the world’s BEST pie.

I delve into Pinterest, FB and Instagram to see what’s bouncing around those places. I still check Flipboard and BillMoyers daily, and read an overabundance of writing blogs and newsletters, along with Wired, Popular Mechanics, the SmithsonianUnion of Concerned ScientistsDelancey Place and EPI when their newsletters arrive.

What are you reading out there? You have any sites that you recommend?

 

I’m All Right

Once upon a time, there was a movie, ‘Caddy Shack’. Starring Michael O’Keefe, Bill Murray, Chevy Chase, Ted Knight, Rodney Dangerfield and others, it was released in America in 1980. Not high brow, it had some memorable lines and scenes,  and was fun. Rotten Tomatoes gives it 75%, which seems right to me.

It’s noteworthy that Rotten Tomatoes didn’t start until eighteen years after ‘Caddy Shack’. I always wonder how the mood of an era supports a movie’s reception. The same goes for books, music, politics, and other aspects of pop cultures. Like, did you know American cars of the late 1950s and early 1960s sported huge fins, huge, tremendously useless, fins, as a styling gimmick. The fins were popular, reminding people of jets and flight. Can you imagine, though, those fins on cars now? My rambling’s point is, what would we have rated ‘Caddy Shack’ if we’d had Rotten Tomatoes back in the day? Wonder if that’s been studied?

My favorite part of the movie was about the gopher that Bill Murray is attempting to kill as one of the sub plots. The gopher survives, and begins dancing to a song by Kenny Loggins. Kenny Loggins was good at that kind of music movie, performing  ‘Footloose’ (the original) and ‘Danger Zone’ for the movie, ‘Top Gun’. The ‘Caddy Shack’ song is ‘I’m All Right’. The song gets you moving – or gets me moving. I don’t think Mom and Dad liked it, frowning and saying, “That’s not real music.” Today’s young listeners might be as amused by the song as I am by ‘A Bicycle Built for Two’.

So, talking with the baristas today, I asked these youngsters (ha – love utilizing that expression) if they knew the song or the movie. Both believed they’d heard of both but had never actually seen the movie and couldn’t place my rendition of the song. Not surprising, as both came out twelve years before the oldest barista present was born.

That’s amazing about our technology, that it exists and helps us create a present and past, by extension, influencing our future, and that these youngsters, if they want, can experience some of our collective past quite easily by watching that movie, just as I did when growing up and watching movies on TV.

There are differences. Today’s movies (and television shows) have made a move toward more realism. Two, it’s easier to select what we want to watch. Whatever was presented on one of three channels back in my youth was what we watched, which was beneficial. I saw movies and genres that I would have never otherwise watched. Some of them were terrible, and some of them were made again, like ‘The Fly’.  

Which, to complete this circle, had me wondering, are they planning on a ‘Caddy Shack’ remake? Well, of course. Numerous people have been associated with such a product and in blogs, some refer to it as ‘inevitable’. Which seems true. I mean, have you seen ‘Star Trek’?

Which one?

 

 

Conveniences

Modern conveniences have spoiled me. Nuke something (via microwave) and have a meal in a few seconds. Refrigerators with built in ice makers. CD and MP3 players and home theater surround sound systems with speakers and woofers that are almost invisible. I use voice over Internet protocols, so I don’t have a telephone land line and don’t pay phone bills. Of course, the phones themselves don’t have wires, either. Just a handset and a charging station.

How fast can I travel the country, or the world, via aircraft? Many waits in security lines and processing to board the aircraft now take longer than the flights.

Once I thought color television was amazing. The rotating mechanical outside rotary antenna supplanted color television as an incredible addition, adding so many more channels. I think we were able to get about eight. Then came cable, and the cable explosion.

Now I don’t have cable or a rotating antenna, nor a satellite dish. I receive over the air broadcasts via a digital indoor antenna, and supplement my watching habits with Roku devices on two televisions. The third television is a curved, high definition smart TV. It doesn’t need a Roku. It has a wireless connection to the web, a ‘smart TV’.  Its screen is 55 inches but it weighs about forty pounds, though it has stereo speakers built into it. Through the Roku and smart TV, I stream offerings from Amazon, Hulu, Netflix, HBO Now, Acorn and Showtime. I have monthly subscriptions but these cost me almost nothing. I use Swagbucks to buy gift cards to pay for these subscriptions.

My computers have gone from heavy, thick machines with a small green screen (and no mouse or pointing devices, back then) to sleek, four pound laptops. Enhanced Graphics – wow, sixteen colors! – gave way to VGA to digital graphics and plasma screens. My mouse is wireless. I can take my computer anywhere and connect to wireless systems, using its battery pack to write and converse with people around the world, watch videos, or create posts, like this, that others can read within seconds of me clicking ‘publish’.

All of these are almost taken for granted but the stuff in my car continues impressing me. I’ve had it almost two years, and two things, the climate control, the keyless entry, and the headlights, keep me impressed.

With the climate control, I rarely touch them. The air conditioning and heater are utilized to keep the temperature on my side of the vehicle at whatever I’ve chose. The fan kicks on to a higher speed if necessary to cope with colder or hotter conditions. Sometimes, when it’s really cold, I turn on the seat’s heater. All of this is a long way from rolling down windows, adjusting vents, sliding heating and air con controls back and forth, and turning fans on higher or lower. The car does all these things for me.

Likewise, the keyless entry impresses me. I put the fob into a pocket and forget about it. Press a button to unlock the doors. Press another to start the car. No key.

The headlights are always on, dimming themselves as needed, turning around corners to minimize blind spots, raising and lowering to keep level in relationship to the car and road’s angles. This, again, is a long way from the early days of turning the headlights on, stamping on a metal cylinder to toggle the high beams on and off. The metal cylinder gave way to switches on sticks mounted on the steering wheel column.

How long these will continue impressing me, I don’t know. Digital clocks and watches long impressed me. Cable television amazed me for about four years, I think, because it soon became a flawed offering. But the things that concern me each day are not these amazing devices, but more basic matters, like water and drought. Where are the modern devices to deal with those? And what about the hand gun deaths in the United States? I understand the second amendment but I really thought we could hold two positions in our minds and intelligently address these.

I must pause to write, too, and note, yes, and what of prejudices, prejudices based on sex, sexual orientation, religion, ethnicity, poverty, race, the color of your skin, or even your clothes or the way you wear your hair, and your politics, and your education, and the way you speak?

Of course, the flow is all about money. There is money in prejudice as fearful people keep pathetic power hungry people in leadership positions. If there was more money in solving the drought or improving water efficiency, more modern conveniences would emerge to deal with those issues. We see that happening on the power side. I have passive solar panels on my roof but I’ve had them almost ten years. I take them for granted, too, although I do pause when passing the invertor to see how many watts my system is generating, and I look at the electric bill each month. Yet its technology has already improved and that system is how the mechanical antenna with its rotor was like compared to cable.

I don’t mean this to sound or be self-congratulatory. It’s meant to be a reflection of the changes witnessed, no matter which direction they went, in my lifetime. The world amazes me, but I’m frustrated that we can’t solve or seem even to address some issues, because there’s no profit involved. Where profit becomes involved, like housing, heathcare, agriculture and politics in America, the results become depressing, with profits, power and control overwhelming the common good.

Yet, perhaps because I write fiction, and was raised on Star Trek, or maybe because I’m a natural optimist who hates giving up on anything, I keep hoping and believing that change will come our way. We’ve elected, at last, a black human to be America’s President. A female, at last, is being nominated for the Presidency (assuming all goes well between now and the convention). And the Pope has apologized for some of his religion’s more regretful recent issues, and is pushing his church to be a more charitable and humane organization, the way it was originally intended (I think…).

The USA has even re-established relations with Cuba. Back in my youth, in the 1960s, we were in the cold war with the USSR, which no longer exists, and fighting a hot war in Vietnam (which now manufactures our consumer goods). Hot wars around the world still subsume our energies and destroy lives and the planet. Cue Edwin Starr: “War! Good God, y’all. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing!” And people will argue, no it’s necessary to deter aggression and right wrongs.

Maybe it was once. But now I think of war as a small black and white portable television, with a tiny screen and limited reception. Unfortunately, there remains too much profit in war for anyone to rush to do away with it.

What we need to do is find the profit in peace. And then the modern convenience machine will go right to work.

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