nyyki

For some reason Dixie has taken to lounging in the middle of the hallway a lot of the time. I get that it's the center of the house, it's close to the HVAC system so it can be warmer, and it's close enough that if I call her she's going to hear it unless she's asleep. That said, since I got the new doorbell she doesn't bark at it, and where she lounges is right by it since it's a Wi-Fi doorbell and I've got a power outlet halfway up the hall wall – my choice, it was added on to the switch for the attic fan.

All that said, tonight she was there until I fed her – then she moved her hanging out to my room.

I said, "What up, Dix?"
"I'm staying inside."
"Oh? Because it's cold outside and you've got such short fur?"
"No, because Morris is angry."
"Why is he angry now?"
"Sparky made him that way."
"And what did Sparky do to Morris?"
"I think it's sort of a silly thing – he started something he calls a club and told Morris he couldn't join it."
"Because Morris is a cat?"
"No, because it's a club for mutts. He says I'm a mutt."
"He's right, your mama and daddy weren't the same kind of dog, though they were different in size and color, not the important stuff like innards."
I picked up on my slip the moment I said it and hoped she wouldn't pounce on that – faint hope there, she's a terrier so pouncing is one of her major traits. "Did they both have four legs and a tail?"
"I don't know, I never met them, but I bet they did. And before you ask, ears and eyes and a nose and teeth, and yes, of course a butt too, because all dogs and most creatures have butts."
"What did they smell like?"
"I have no idea, like I said, I never met them, which also means I never smelled them; we Two Legs don't sniff each other's butts. So this is a mutt club?"
"Yeah, and Morris is growling and meowing and stomping around about it. I still don't understand something – why would looking different or not being exactly the same make someone not the same type of dog?"
Yeah, she sniffed that one out, and now I needed to navigate it with care. "Dogs and cats are different from Two Legs in how they're talked about. Bruno was a different type of dog than you because of how big he was and how his fur was different."
"So looks make dogs different?"
"Sometimes, or at least some people focus on that. You know, like the difference between you and a chihuahua or a big dog like the one next door."
"Okay, so different looks make dogs different?"
"Sort of, but not really."
"You look different from my past back leader."
Yeah, she was going there. "Yes, but we're still the same kind of people. lanalucy is the same type of Two Legs as I am, and the differences don't make her different enough to think of her as a different type of person."
"I don't understand, Pack Leader."
"Join the club, Dixie, a lot of time I don't understand why people do that either."
"So you're in a club? Are you a mutt too?"
"We don't use that term for two legs, or at least most people don't; I don't want to be around people who do. There are other clubs besides a mutt club."
"Could Morris join one of those?"
"He could, if they'd let him join; Morris likes to mess with people and argue all the time."
"Pack leader?"
"Yes, sweet dog of mine?"
"Do all pack leaders have puppy lumps?"
"What are puppy lumps?"
"Those two lumps on your body, you know, for feeding puppies."
"Oh, those, no, some pack leaders don't have them; some of them are boy pack leaders, and others don't have them for different reasons."
"Why do you and the pack leader before you have them?"
"Dixie, that's a very long conversation, and I don't have the energy to get into that part of human anatomy. It's something about how we're built. More than that can get way confusing, so let's not get into that, okay?"
"Okay, I won't ask about it. Pack leader?"
"What is it now, Holy Terrier?"
"I'm going to go lay down in the dog run now."
"Dix, we don't have a dog run."
"Okay, then what is it that lets you and me and the other Two Legs go from room to room?"
"Doors? Or the hallway? That's long and kind of narrow like a dog run."
"Yeah, that."
"Okay, go rest there, but if you want to you can sleep next to me when you get tired."
"Okay." She ran off, leaving me thinking about how else I could have explained bigotry based on physical differences in humans.

Okay, I finished Stranger Things, and I can imagine how the ending didn't satisfy some people (there's a lot of stuff about it on YouTube), but the way season 5 went there wasn't a lot of wiggle room on how they could end it. Robin and Max both resonated with me throughout the show, though part of this might be because I read their tie-in books.

I'm listening to a fun one right now, The Fine Line Between Clever and Stupid, about the making of the two Spinal Tap mocumentaries. I enjoy hearing the creative people the book's about reading the text of it, and this one has all four of them.

Next will be a rewatch of Tron, Tron Legacy, and the first pass through Tron Aries. That'll still leave me close to 1400 CBS radio mysteries, so I'm not without stuff to listen to.

I've been thinking about a five part atmospheric suite I've worked on for about 38 years, and the first part is done (though I'm going to change the time signature of the restatement of the main theme) and I've got the next two parts sketched out well enough. The fourth part is going to be textural along the lines of Tangram era Tangerine dream, and I've known a long way back that the last part will resolve from minor key based to major, but nothing seemed to work for that. Then I got into a recent conversation about Koyaanisqatsi and I realized that part needs to be Minimalist so as the night transforms into dawn and then the sunrise I can evolve it into a major key or mode. This won't be on that project's first album, the one we call Nozzleography, instead happening on the second one as the centerpiece.

I think I've figured a few things out. I've accepted the situation those things show me, so it's time to move forward with that new information.

My latest Brainz entry is a fun one – I wonder how the others will react to it?

Things I Forget.
A Christmas tree. Holiday lights. Summers outdoors.
Dinners out or cooking when not alone. Picking up groceries. The casual intimacy of doing those things.
Being held, being free to share and enjoying being shared with, sleeping beside someone and waking beside someone.
All the things that let me feel confident in not being alone; being not abandoned.
Being there for someone and knowing they're there for me; banter play; making music with someone else.
Deep discussions; talking about movies or books that are common experiences for all involved.
Being loved, that love that's so much more than friendship; knowing my back is safe.
I can forget these things, often out of a need for survival as a person alone; unwanted; unneeded; an extraneous appendage to the world.
And one day, one blessed day, I might be able to forget you too; all you did; the wake where you left me to deal with your mess you made of my home and my heart; your tornadic path.
And then, so wondrous then, a time I dream of but with no hope of ever reaching, I can be at peace.
(note: I may turn this into a song -- some ideas for it are already percolating in my brain)