Thursday’s Wandering Thought

He took an afternoon walk up and down the town’s hills. Many interesting sights were seen but what made him think the most was the signs posted at a house of worship: “No Trespassing”. “Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted”. He saw at least four of those two signs on the two side of the church he passed.

He wondered what they worshipped inside.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Windy is the weather word for today. Windy, as in lots of wind, and it’s gonna get intense. Not hurricane, cyclone, tornado, or typhoon level, no. But hold onto your hats. Or tie them on tight.

Today is Thursday, 3/9/2023. Temperature is 42. We lack snow, fog, and rain at the moment. We offer blue sky, white clouds, and sunshine on this Ashlandia morning. The sun was coming up at 6:33 AM, when Papi did his seal bark to demand exit number three. The window beating to come back in was at 7:05. Ashlandia’s sunset comes at 6:10. We’ll be up to 42 F by then.

Papi is back out now, sitting on the porch, glaring at the wind, very dismayed with the weather. He’ll be wanting back in soon, and then will rest so that he’s fresh for his nightly needs. He is off, victimized by the book club visitors last night. Papi is not one to socialize with people or animals. He’s a loner. When they arrived, he retreated to the master BR and sulked on the bed, listening for one of them attempting to sneak up on him. He’s knockin’ to get back in now. Excuse me.

Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to be gone so long. Had to pay the floof tax and tell him how smart and handsome he is until he said, “Enough,” and dashed off. Those of you with floofs will understand.

Papi is a neat and clean cat, though. Not a fur out of place. Any out of place furs are immediately shed. It’s quite a system.

I dreamed I was trying to remember who sang “Baby Blue”, a song which came out in 1971. As part of my dream effort, I kept watching a black and white static-filled TV screen while older me shouted at younger me, “Bad Finger. It’s Bad Finger.” Younger me would not listen, but kept muttering, “Bad Company?” Arrgh.

It’s a walking song in the morning mental music stream today. Out yesterday, walking today. Winting is back and the sun and cold wind medley was enhanced by things trying to figure out if they should bloom now. All very pleasant, however. Reminded me of youthful moments. The Neurons tossed a Grand Funk song, “I’m Your Captain (Closer to Home)”¬†from 1970 into the mix. It’s a song I often recalled when walking or driving and getting close to home. I often traveled in my youth, and then again in the military, and then again in marketing.

That’s enough of that, I’m sure. Stay pos. Treat Thursday like a golden opportunity and do your thang. Peace out.

The Silver-gray Cat Dream

First, I was leaving a white building on a bright and sunny day. An older woman, who I know to be a writing instructor, was talking behind me, but addressing me. “I have an older student who is trying to be a writer. He doesn’t have it. He’s not going to succeed.”

I was panicking. I thought she was referring to me. I replied, “Do you tell him?”

“I’ve told him very directly. He doesn’t want to get the message.”

Those words ringing in my ears, I shouted good-bye to her and fled down the street. Two lanes wide or more, it was blocked off, so we could walk straight down the street.

I picked up a silver-gray shorthair cat and her kitten along the way. The cat seemed ill. I decided I would find a house and get her help.

I walked into an apartment building and knocked on a door. When there was no answer, I discovered the door was unlocked and entered. The apartment had an unusual layout, with a set of steps rising to a loft along one wall of a great room, and rooms directly off the great room on the opposite side. The kitchen was up in the loft. A television was on, its volume very high, showing an old television show but in color.

I set the cat down. She was very listless. “What is it? I asked her.

“I need a box,” she replied in a weak voice.

“I’ll get you one.”

By ‘box’, I assumed she meant something like a litter box. With that in mind, I hunted for anything that would work and then put her in the bathtub. That worked for the cat. I cleaned the tub and then went to the kitchen and found us some food.

The front door opened. An elderly woman entered. She demanded to know who I was but went on without letting me answer, “This is my house. You shouldn’t be in here.”

I agreed and tried to explain my emergency. She wouldn’t listen, insisting that I leave and turn myself into the constable. I agreed that I would, which was a lie; I wasn’t turning myself in.

The cats and I left and went down the street. We found a brown house and went in. I saw a red sweater and put it on. The end.

The Dragon Eggs Dream

I was alone walking. Weather and the environment were pleasant and unthreatening. Trees, green grass, clear blue sky.

I’d been going along an enormous white cement culvert. Veering away from it, I found eight objects suspended in a line in the air about four feet above the ground. About the size of a human head, they were mostly pink, green, light blue, purple, yellow, gold, red, etc. They seemed either metal or foil and reminded me of wrapped chocolate Easter eggs.

With little thought, I plucked the purple one from the line’s middle. Amazingly light, I was absolutely sure it was a dragon egg. All these things floating in the air were dragon eggs. Part of my mind saw the dragons bursting from their eggs with scales of that color covering them.

Thinking I would juggle the eggs, I pulled another one and tossed the purple and then red one into the air, then grabbed a yellow one and tossed it up. When I did that, all the eggs went into the air and began spinning in a circle around me. They all followed the same orbit. Their path created a multi-hued ring. As I ooh’d and awe’d over that, a bright light flashed in the circle’s center. Within a second, the center was a starry rift. An opening, a portal, I thought.

White light reached for me. I awoke.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Thursday landed on us. It was a soft landing for me. My brooding, dark mood vanished yesterday afternoon.

It’s already 53 F outside. Winds from the southwest have dropped to 16 MPH and they tell us we’ll see 63 F. For reasons such as mountains and valleys, and high and low pressure systems, the atmospheric river swamping California and gifting us almost a full month’s rain quota is going around us now.

Sunrise wasn’t much to crow about. The earlier light was appreciated, coming in at 7:38 this morning, but it was short on the shine penetrating the cloud base. I’m optimistic some shine will clear the clouds before the sun takes it light elsewhere at 5:01 PM.

This is Thursday, January 12, 2023.

Today’s theme music will be a Jeff Beck song. Jeff Beck passed this week, 78 years old. While some people went for singers, looks, or drummers, I was a lead guitarist fan when I was a young teenager. Five me fast fingers and wailing bent notes. Beck was an early name I followed. The man knew his way with a guitar. I haven’t listened to him much in recent years but I have multiple Beck favorites. One that The Neurons pulled into the morning mental music stream was Beck and the Rolling Stones doing “Going Down” in 2012. That song has been covered by a range of guitar artists and bands and is very familiar to me. It’s been part of my mental walking music for yonks. It is good for keeping the feet moving, especially after a long and exhausting climb up, where you finally crest and begin the downslope. Yes, singing, “Going down. Down, down, down, down, down,” in your head as that happens satisfies me. So does this Stone & Beck collaboration.

Stay positive and test negative. The coffee has been drunk. Let the music begin. Cheers

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Dawn broke, and now we could see why it was so dark. Last night’s sky was clear. Enriched by unblemished moonshine, spectacular starry mountain vistas were on offer.

Today, clouds have gone come down and fog hugs the ground. Grey is the color of the sky, and sunlight evades our searching eyes.

It’s Tuesday, December 6, 2022. Hear the tick tick of the digital clocks emulating the grandfather clock’s countdown? That’s the sound of the year leaving. Or maybe it’s the sound of the next year hurrying to us. The sun showed up on our spinning planet’s piece called southern Oregon at 7:25 this morning and will toss goodbye over its sunny shoulders at 4:39 PM. It’s 0 C but we’re hopeful of reaching 44 F today. Rain? No, they say. They’re telling us that despite the overcast sky and fog I’m seeing, it’s actually mostly sunny in Ashland. Most be another part of town.

What I notice of my morning rituals is that the summer sun comes in through the large east-facing living room window. By this time of the year, the sun shyly looks in through the southern window around the corner from the living room window and twenty-three feet further up the side of the house. They have come to be known as the summer window and winter window for me.

I awoke with a Led Zeppelin favorite in mind. Coming out in 1971, when I became fifteen years old, Led Zepp’s fourth album had a song on it called “When the Levee Breaks”. Now, I enjoyed that entire album but that song was the one which usually haunted me later. Later reading revealed that it was an old country song, which added a layer of thinking that stimulated greater introspection. Its worrying lyrics and downcast beat seemed firmly rooted in someone’s existence.

Later, I found its beat and tone conducive to walking and thinking. I was then and have always been a person who enjoys walking distances. I’m one to take the long way home when I’m on my feet, climbing up hills to gain a broader perspective. So it was that I was out yesterday, climbing the hills and thinking about my writing in progress when The Neurons rummaged through my youthful memories and began playing it. It stayed in my morning mental music stream today.

When I went off looking for a version to play today, I stumbled upon this version by the Playing for Change project. Incorporating a huge variety of sounds and talented individuals, it’s even more powerful and haunting than the version Zepp gave us. John Paul Jones of Zepp is included among the musicians. Derek Trucks is one of the folks on slide guitar. I hope you listen to the song and that it stirs you as it does me.

Off for coffee. Stay pos and test negative. Here’s the video. Cheers

Thursday’s Wandering Thought

The city-state-county were bringing Ashland street corners up to standards so they would comply with the Americans with Disabilities Act. The Federal government had provided funding for the work. Thirty corners had been identified and would be repaired in phases, starting on the southern end of town. Somehow, though, despite the impressive planning of phases, the project ended up with sidewalks being detoured in parallel on opposite sides of the highway. Each side told pedestrians, “Use Other Side”.

It was like a sad, sad, sad joke.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Lotsa wet out from ocean fog. Drips from everything and sprawls over cars and houses. Thursday morning on the coast. It’s started out much like Wednesday morning on the coast. I’m beginning to have suspicions about Friday morning on the coast, although rain is in the Friday forecast.

For now, it’s quiet and chill, 62 F, sunshine smothered in fog. The sun has been ‘up’ since 6:22 AM but it’s a dim bulb in the eastern fog swirl. A high of 68 F will be probed. We’ll going out on a short boat trip to explore the local marine life and history’s highlights. Should be fun. Sunset will be about 8:19 this evening.

Should note that it’s August 18, 2022, for the record. The record is important, isn’t it? ‘Tis why we’re always tracking and chasing these things. “For the record, what day was it?” “I believe it was August 18, 2022, yer honor.”

The line “walking in the sand” is walking through my morning mental music stream. Yes, thank you, neurons. Not very original of you but I have walked a few miles in the sand in the last few days. Nye Beach has a beautiful flat beach, not very busy on the sand, with gorgeous ocean views, well worth walking as the waves roll in do their splashing, and hurry back out as the gulls meditate and wonder.

Back to the music. I have the Shangri-Las version of “Remember (Walking in the Sand)” dueling the Aerosmith’s rendition, which is an interesting mental flavor to have before coffee. 1964 was the year of the Shangri-Las’s version while Tyler and the boys had a hit in 1979. One is pop and more melodic and the other is rock. I’ll let you guess which.

Here’s Amy Winehouse with the song. Yeah, I thought I’d throw a curve in. Stay positive and test negative, right? Deep breath because we’re still going through this. Meanwhile, I gotta find some coffee. Then I’m gonna go walkin’ in the sand. Hope I remember. Enjoy your day.

Cheers

Tuesday’s Theme Music

March has toddled in on unsteady steps. Yes, it’s Tuesday, March 1, 2022 already. Weirdly, I keep wanting to write 2023. Maybe it’s a subconscious desire to just leap this year.

Glorious sunshine spangled the clouds, trees, and mountains in the early going. Temperature was already up to 51 F — 55 now — and we’re probably going to reach 67 F. Went up the road to Medford yesterday for shopping and saw 72 F, according to the car. Didn’t feel like it, though. Felt more like 68.2.

Clouds have massed, a demonstration against too much sunshine, a vow to deliver rain somehow, somewhere, on someone. Sunrise kicked in at 6:46 AM. We’ll ride the rays until 6:01 PM, when they take their leave and wave good-bye.

War and politics rule the news. Coronavirus and pandemic, anti-vaxxers and anti-maskers supplanted by real matters of freedom as Russia plays like the USSR to use tank diplomacy to achieve its goals.

I was out walking in Ashland’s downtown area on Main Street yesterday, visiting the library, picking up more to read which they’d put on hold for me. Was wonderful to have a light, cool breeze flirting with me as sunshine warmed my bod. The neurons summoned Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band singing “Mainstreet” from 1977 as I walked. But when the turns carried me to Sixth Street, the neurons pivoted to the Wallflowers and “Sixth Avenue Heartache” (1996). The latter was the last song standing in this morning’s mental music stream, so here we are.

Stay positive (yes, I know, it’s asking a lot with all the vectors of buffeting), test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the song. I’m pursuing my destiny with a cup of coffee. Cheers

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