Tag: the Moody Blues

Thursday’s Theme Music

Blue skies and frosty white. This is Thursday. Our temperature is either 30, 37 or 40, all degrees in Fahrenheit. My house station where the furnace runs to warm us claims it is 30 F. Alexa says it’s 37 and another net site claims 40.

Today is January 26, 2023. We’re almost done with the two-faced month. Walking around the house at 6:37 AM, I was impressed by how much daylight I was seeing. That was despite us being in night mode, with all the blinds closed. Sunrise stepped in at 7:32, and off we went.

Today will reach 55 F or so before the sun vanishes from the Ashlandia sky around the 5:20 PM time period — it’ll be earlier in the mountains’ shadows by an hour or seem like the sun has set — but the forecasters are warning us. Winter is going to get serious. Lower temperatures will be coming by, clouds are collecting, and rain and snow are possible. Then, fanfare, Monday will see an Arctic blast. Lows will freefall into the teens. Daytime highs will scrap into the thirties. Break out extra binkies and some space heaters, hope power doesn’t fail, and take measures to ensure your pipes don’t freeze. The hardest part, though, will be convincing Papi to stay in. He’s gonna test the temps, I know.

First question for me as I pulled up the net was a cynical thought, what celebrity died today? It used to be ‘always in threes’ but now it seems to be evolving to one a day. Not a surprise if you think about it. We created an age of celebrity with the electronic age, lionizing those among us who rise in sports, politics, entertainment, and industry. Now they’re aging. Some, inevitably, will pass.

Speaking of passing, a 1972 Moody Blues song, “I’m Just A Singer (In A Rock and Roll Band)” has passed into the morning mental music stream. This came about as a character was going through a scene change as I did my morning business. He was lamenting about what he did and didn’t know and the limitations on what he could do as a result of his chaos sister’s death.

Stay pos. Hope your Thursday will be a fine venture. I’m off to refresh my coffee. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

A stratus layer mothers the sun, protecting it from our prying eyes. Theoretically, we had sunrise at 7:11 this morning, but few bright rays have slipped past the cloud shield. The temperature is hovering at 46 degrees F as a fine mist drifts and falls, but today’s high is forecast to be 77 F before sunset at 7:25 PM.

Today is Tuesday, March 22, 2022, or 03222022 in the American style.

I was up with cats last night. Another — a different — sick one, as Tucker puked and went lethargic. My wife is sleeping in another bed adjusted for her back issues. Tucker, who sleeps with me 99 percent of the nights, slept with her. I missed my furry boy and his taps on my hands and nose, and deep, throbbing purr. I asked her this morning, how he was. “Oh, he’s fine,” she said. Oh, he ate? “I don’t know.” Did he drink water? “I don’t know.” Did he use the litter box? “I don’t know.” How do you know he’s okay? “He seems okay.” That is not how it works.

Meanwhile, sick cat took Tucker’s absence as an opportunity to cuddle against me. I pet, scratched, and spoke for him for long hours in the night. His ability to eat is diminishing and he’s fading, despite hopes. Of course, I used the time to write in my head. It wasn’t the plan; the writer is always there, and the muses said, “Hey, while you’re not busy doing anything.” They’re very single-minded. My mind shouted, “Eureka,” as some new and surprising vector took shape. Of course, it must be pursued today.

A 1986 Moody Blues song, “Your Wildest Dreams”, settled into the morning mental music stream. The neurons latched onto after a few dreams. Now it’s on loop and must be released into the net so the neurons can go on to other music.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the shots when you can. The neurons are calling for coffee, threatening me with a medley of 1910 Fruitgum Company melodies if I don’t comply. So off I go. Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music

Good morning, fellow pumpkin spice heads. C’est moi, coming at you undead from Ashland, Oregon, in the Pacific Northwest of the United States. Today is Friday, October 15, 2021. Please set that to memory; you may be called upon to tell another later. Of course, being of retired military mind, the fifteenth was the middle-of-the-month payday during my working military life, when we, the enlisted, could rush out and buy groceries, gas up the car, and pay bills.

Sunrise was another glorious, steady rise of golden light, like a veil being pulled off night, that came at 7:23 AM. Temperature was a fur-chilling 40 F at that point. I know because the ginger boi, aka Meep, aka Papi, came in and told me, “Chilly out. Feel my fur.” Which I did, telling him, “Oh, your fur is cold.” He replied, “Meep, purr.” I assume that meant, I know. Sunset will come at, oh, 6:29 PM, according to the old farmer’s google. Temperatures will rise to the mid-fifties again, before falling into the high thirties after we’ve rotated away from the sun’s assistance. Such small windows of comfort, innit?

Today’s offering in my morning mental music stream comes from the Moody Blues and 1971. Yes, there is a line of lyrics involved. At some point yesterday, while in the snug discussing something, another something — a noise — from where? — who knows? — popped into our awareness. A what’s that, I don’t know, convo followed as we half-heartedly pursued the answer to this sound mystery. I mentioned at one point, “Listen. It sounds like it’s slowly turning.” After I’d walked away from that major, earth-shaking interruption to our routine, when I was in the kitchen, the song’s line, “Listen to the tide slowly turning,” whispered in my ears. The song then came on in full.

Of course, the progressive fusion of classical, folk, and rock that is “The Story in Your Eyes” aligns with my optimism. I often believe the tide is slowly turning. We’re slowly becoming less warlike. We’d probably make better progress in that were it not for the global defense industry and the need to make profits but killing others in the name of peace and security. Likewise, I’m always sure that the tide of justice, freedom, and equality is slowly turning, too. Someday, we’ll also unite to address climate change, right? Probably not until most of the lower ranks of people are standing up to their armpits in water, but I’m hopeful it’ll come before then.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, get the vax, sing a song, dance a little, laugh a lot, and have some fun. Here’s the music. Enjoy the photos of the band in their youth. My hot, black coffee is also here. Must drink it before it grows too cold. Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

“Ride My See-Saw” by the Moody Blues, 1968, thundered into my head this morning, partly due to writing, partly to my young ginger feline friend, Papi, aka Meep, aka Youngblade, aka the Ginger Blade.

With writing, it was recognition of how I go up and down about how I feel about the work in progress. It’s like being on a see-saw. With Papi, it was about my sleep getting interrupted. I was up and down, up and down, letting him in and out, in and out. Very floofrupting.

This video and song is a fun slice back to what we were when. Their slender, suited shapes and mod hair. That was rock, then, for a while. Well, no, that look wasn’t universal. I never adopted it. My hair was longer and less styled. (My wife loves the fact that I used to employ bobby pins to keep my hair out my way while engaged in baseball and football. For track and wrestling, I just let it flow.) While skinny, I wore huge bellbottoms and baggy tees. My favorite tee said, “Keep America Green, Grow Grass.” A marijuana leaf was prominent in the tee’s center.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get plenty of sleep. Here’s the music. Enjoy.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Well, time was up.

Past ‘up’.

I was supposed to have departed the fix about fifteen minutes before, so I was now behind my schedule. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop writing. Coffee was gone, butt was uncomfortable, and my sciatic nerve was causing pain issue from being perched on the coffee shop’s new hard chairs. All the signs were aligned, time to go, mo-fo.

But —

Yes. Closing up with a stern order, go now, I packed it all up, strapped on the backpack, and headed into the sunshine. It was doing little good against the wintry air, but it was in the low 40s, a better place to be than, say, single digits that some in Alaska are enduring, and it’s better than Australia’s fires and blazing heat. So, couldn’t complain.

Walking up the hill, the distinctive piano playing of the Moody Blues cover of “Go Now” (1964) arrived in my stream. It’s a wondrous juxtaposition when the thing you’ve been doing, memories of places and events, and what you’re now doing come together in a perfectly mellow mood. I usually need a beer, a glass of wine, cup of coffee, or the toke of a joint to arrive in such a state.

But here I was, just me and the small town, with myself and music in my head, cold in the air, and sunshine on the other side of the valley.

 

 

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Today’s Theme Music

My stream is back-flashing to high school. I remember talking with my buddy, Bob, about a new Moody Blues song, “Nights In White Satin”. I already knew the song and was puzzling about how I knew this song so well already. I told Bob that I was certain it was an old song. Later, on the radio, they mentioned that the song had been originally released in 1967, but didn’t chart well in the U.S., but had been released again in 1972, the year Bob and I were talking. I felt absurdly validated and pleased that I’d accurately remembered the song had come out several years before.

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