Fascinating courtly intrigue and bloody power games set on a generation ship full of secrets―Medusa Uploaded is an imaginative, intense mystery about family dramas and ancient technologies whose influence reverberates across the stars. Disturbing, exciting, and frankly kind of mind-blowing.” ―Annalee Newitz, author of Autonomous

Monday, May 27, 2024

Michael's Chronicle: May 25


Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.


May 25
At the studio
On the mountain

Cool air is
Well, cool
It likes me
The feeling is mutual

Night breeze, downhill
Morning breeze, uphill
But always, the breeze
Open your windows

Shed no tear 
For the heat
The summer day is hers
Even on my mountain

But on this mountain
Day and night, hot and cool
Engage in a time share
Summer is gracious this way

Woke up with a smile on my skin
Took it for a walk
No traffic here
It hangs out in town

Greeted the prairie dogs
Standing at attention
Denizens of the tunnel
Cool earth works too

Thank something for this
Your God, your luck……whatever
There are worse ways
To start the day

Cool air is
Well, cool
It likes me
The feeling is mutual

Friday, May 10, 2024

Michael's Chronicle: Springfield, MO


Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.


May 8
Springfield, Mo

Hammers and Coin Ops

Curious heading, huh? Appropriate though. So let’s get at it.

Before talking about my latest travel indignity let me provide some important information of which the reader may not be aware. The hammer was first invented, according to archeologists, in about 30,000 B.C. - give or take. The coin operated washing machine was introduced to the world by Harry Greenwald of New York in 1957. (I would say God Rest His Soul but I’m not feeling that way at this moment). So, this question: who’s been around longer?

I travel for a living. I’m a sweet smelling guy so I don’t whiff myself too often. I shower once a week at least when I am alone (which is most of the time) and not exhibiting at a show. My clothes on the other hand take it upon themselves to get dirty and attract some stank (stank def: primordial stink) independent of my efforts. I throw them in bags and piles and grace them every eight or ten days with a detergent spiked drowning at my current motel or a laundromat. Concessions to inanimate objects.

I arrived at the Red Roof Inn in Springfield, Mo. last night, took my first shower in a few days and read the email from my ripening clothing, sequestered for the last week in a cardboard box. The message was simple: “How about a wash and tumble.” Reasonable request. The front desk confirmed the presence of a guest laundry and offered change for their usage, along with one single-load box of Cheer. Made me feel cheerful the same way a Snickers bar makes me chuckle. Thank you product-naming gods.

Six quarters - buck and a half. Cheap for a wash load these days. Same price for the dryer. Things were smelling rosey already. Detergent in the tub, as instructed. Clothing next. Push the coin carrier forward, listen to the quarters drop and slide back. Not so fast.

The coin carrier dropped nothing. Simply jammed in the “in” position. Trapped my money in the housing surrounding the coin drop box. I squinted, muttered minor expletives and grabbed the coin slide. Gently pushing and pulling at first - “teasing it - cajoling. I stood back, staring at it and sending it psychic encouragement. At that moment I noticed that the coin slider was gashed and marred, its chrome finish somewhat tortured. The light bulb in my brain popped on. This inanimate object had messed with humans in the past and they had messed back. To my right on a folding table tucked mostly under a coin detergent dispenser protruded the handles of what proved to be a large set of channel locks. Brighter light. The coin slider was sticking all the time and rather than replace it or the machine, management had left the means for unwedging it. Thus the badly marred coin slider. I bought in and picked up the channel locks.

No sale, that, despite a lot of jerking, twisting and yanking. The slider had new gashes. I went to the desk clerk and reported the problem. She rolled her eyes. She’d heard it all before and cursed management under her breath. Back to the guest laundry we went. I watched her take a turn with the channel locks, to no avail. She told me to come back later - she’d call someone.

Hours later, when I returned to the motel after my errands, the coin slider had been released and my clothes lay in the bottom of the tub washed and spun. I placed them in the dryer, inserted my six quarters and pushed the slider. Nowhere. Literally. It budged not a scintilla of an inch. Forget the channel locks. My mind flipped straight to hammers. I searched the internet for the nearest House of Hammers outlet. No luck. But alas, their competitor, “Hammer Kingdom,” had a branch nearby.

I wish such places really existed in moments like this. They’re the only place I’d go. Specialty house. Hammer for any problem or occasion. I wanted a coin-op slider adjuster. I envisioned a retired ex body builder standing behind the counter with football sized biceps adorned with a large tattoo originally depicting a pretty girl's face but now distorted badly by wrinkles and looking for all the world like an elephant’s butt cheeks. They say we improve with age. All things are relative, now, aren’t they? The guy would possess a growl of a voice essentially farted off of vocal cords ravaged stiff by years of smoking filter free cigarettes and exhausted by yelling at his wife. (Maybe I’m being a bit harsh, here.) Anyway, a man’s man. He’d have the right hammer.

From this dark space I returned eventually. I asked the new desk clerk if I could use the motel’s commercial dryer since the housekeeping staff had already gone home for the day. She was kind enough to allow it. No need after all for Hammer Kingdom. I did my breathing exercises.

Later…..

 

Tuesday, May 7, 2024

Michael's Chronicles: Early A.M., May 7



Michal Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.


Early A.M. May 7
Springfield, Mo.

Tornadoes in the area
Don’t need a lift off
Quite content
With imagining flight
Dreams are good that way

Angry sky
Lighting up the place
Like a mad scientist’s lab
Rumbling. Are the gods bowling?
Or is thunder a real thing

Google phone need not alert me
Already getting the message
Tornado said to sound like freight train
Prefer the snoring human next door
Bad, yes, but nothing like steel on tracks

Maybe I’ll just run water in the tub
Watch it swirl down the drain
Same motion less damage
Category five drain suck
Leave the roof intact

Gonna ditch these thoughts
Sleep aids they are not
Pointless counting sheep, though
Tap tap, tap tap, tap tap
The rain will screw up my count

Later…………..

Sunday, May 5, 2024

Michael's Chronicles: Pewter Cloud Cover


Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.


Pewter Cloud Cover


Pewter cloud cover
Winter, but not
The light is all wrong
May light, not January

Wish I could wiggle a finger
Make it go away
Never took the wizardry class
Scheduling conflict

Perhaps if I simply stare at it
My attitude will be noticed
No penalty for wishful thinking
On the other hand delusion
Likely a horse of a different color

Why am I carping
About May weather?
Think I’ll just hold out
For June

Michael's Chronicles: You're Just Making Up Words


Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

You're Just Making Up Words

“You’re just making up words.”


I looked up and then down to catch where the voice was coming from. Kid voice. Figured. Girl. Little girl. Maybe six. This sort of thing never works for me. Never. Leave it to a little female to call me on my B.S. But I’m a guy, right? I can’t let this stand. Gotta respond.

So I was at the Brookside Art Annual yesterday, midafternoon when the midget showed up with her mom. I barely noticed. Pretty good crowd in front of my booth. First thing she said was, “How did you figure out how to make that sound?”

Not looking up I simply said, “I’m skilldy” I kept playing my creations figuring that comment would suffice. Someone asked me how my instruments work and I went about explaining it. Some lady asked how I figured out how to tune wood and, tapping my right index finger on my right temple I said, “I brainerized it.” The lady and some other adults laughed and waited for the real explanation.

“You’re just making up words,” blurted out the girl sucking all the fun out of the moment. I had to recover.

“Really. What makes you say that.”

“Cause burnerized (butchering what I had said) isn’t a word is it Mommy,” looking to the mom for support. Mom looked away just leaving me hanging. Thank you mom.

The little attack dog dug in.

“You can’t just make up words, you know.”

“Who says?”

“My teacher. She says words matter. You have to use real words.”

“Like twerp,?” I thought under my breath. But what I really said was, “All my words are real because they’re all full of letters.” She cocked her head and scrunched her nose, glancing again toward mom for support. Not catching mom’s attention, she looked back at me and said nothing but slowly rotated her head side to side indicating “Nope, you’re wrong and I know it.” She left.

All my statements include words. What’s the big deal here? 

Friday, May 3, 2024

Michael's Chronicle: May First


Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

May First 
Yeah, I know it’s not the first day of April. April Fools day, that is. But do they really think I’m that stupid? The sign on the exit gate at my motel this morning was not bolted to the thing as a joke. The wind’s been heckling it for years as evidenced by sand pelt. “Stand back,” it says. “Risk of serious injury or death.”

Let me offer a clue. In this realm I have a very low gullibility quotient. I watched the gate open and close on autotrack just once for laughs. As I watched it move at approximately .05 miles per hour I wondered just who the sign was directed at. Snails? Reminds me of the guy who walks out on his porch one morning and sees a snail, which he promptly kicks off the porch and across the lawn near the fence. One year later to the day he walks out again and spots a snail standing on the same spot. It looks up at him and says, “Why’d you do that?” Maybe the sign is directed at dead cats. No, that couldn’t be right. I mean, they’re already dead. On the other hand, dead things move pretty slow……..

I’m in Albuquerque. Well actually, I’m leaving Albuquerque. Stayed here last night. It’s now time for Kansas City, St. Louis and Indianapolis. Three art shows in a row. Done with Florida. Couldn’t stand the place in May, anyway. I’m from Arizona where humidity is proscribed by law. We don’t mind sweating, but we don’t believe our sweat should sweat. Sweat squared is wrong. Against the law here. Not the only strange law we’ve passed, though. Ask the women.

I’m out……