A Very Fine Funny Fluffy Movie Friday With The Gang (a sort of movie review)

I leaned across my two nephews while the lights slowly came up and I said to my sis on the other side of them, “Hey Beck, how is it that this place is so dusty?” as I wiped the corner of my eye. Or maybe it was corners suddenly being in a round eye poking me, or possibly a very sad story about sad stuff with sad people struck me right at that moment or … whatever, just something to explain a few tears. Good tears though as the credits for “The Sheep Detectives” rolled and I waited for the cast list to see exactly who spoke the words that came out of which sheep (at least the voices I couldn’t quite place).

I definitely knew though, that we were 2 for 2 for winners on Movie Fridays now, my sis and my nephews, Jake and Matt and myself. Well, sorry, hold the post train there replete with sudden record scratch sound and let me amend that. Technically only 1 for 1 as the first “Movie Friday” was just Beck, Jake and me, minus Matt, though that was a totally unintentional miscommunication and was remedied the next day when Jake, to lift a newfound burden of guilt, said he would be A-OK with seeing the movie again and that he would go with Matt.

You see, being the sci-fi geek that I am, I had been really wanting to see “Project Hail Mary” but in a theatre, I just couldn’t wait for it to get to me in my room, in a basement, on a stream, with just cats for company. I love ‘em of course but they’re not really the ones you grab and say “Hey, who wants to go see a movie?!” They’re more “Hey, who wants breakfast, or dinner or treats or belly rubs” with the cracking of cans or the shaking of Temptations bags or the big show of cat pre-belly jazz hands, plus there’s probably rules against bringing them to a theatre and cat pre-belly jazz hands in public or something anyway. Freakin’ man!! Always keepin’ ya down!!

Then I took this want a step further and thought to ask my sis and the boys if they’d like to join me (sci-fi geeks unite!), a night out for the four of us and then we could talk about it later as opposed to me watching something, then telling them about it and seeing their interested humoring Steve reactions (bless them, they’ve gotten really good at these interested humoring Steve reactions in response to things I say, or poetry I send) and them then telling me how they’ve been waiting to watch that, or “wow’s” about how that sounds really cool and they’ll definitely be catching that soon and … yadda yadda yadda. You know how the rest of it goes. I’m just eventually the guy in my room, in a basement, on a stream, that watched something alone again with just cats for company until it’s replaced by the next thing I watch alone and rinse and repeat (well not the cats, they hate water and do self maintenance).

Though I am very good at watching things alone, I’ve gotten even better at it over the last number of years as a matter of fact, including going to the movies by myself, I thought it would be nice to have someone reacting to something along with me for a change (not just curling up and purring on my ankle) and maybe even quietly saying “yes!” together at a good part or “aarrgghhing” together at bad one or laughing in tandem at funny parts and then having someone to talk to about it later minus those sad “humoring Steve” looks.

(on phone a few Fridays ago) “Hey Beck, I’m almost done here what are you and the boys doing tonight? Wanna go see a movie? My treat?”

Beck: Sure, here’s Jake, ask him

Jake: Yeeeeessssss?

Me: Project Hail Mary, wanna go see it?

Jake: Hell yeah!!

Me: What about Matt? Where’s he at?

Jake: Oh, he’s out

Me: (a bit disappointed) Ok well, alright, then what about me, you and your Mom?

Jake: Still hell yeah!

Me: Cool, movie is at 7:15. I’m leaving work in 5. And it’s on me, tickets and popcorn

I’d been wanting to do something for everyone for a little while as life has had some rough or … interesting patches you could say, over the last four months or so for me and the three of them have been real heroes in giving me some much needed company and moral support assists.

But, in that quick phone back and forth lies the reason why, technically, we’re not 2 for 2 on winning Movie Fridays, the four of us, because of Jake saying of Matt “Oh, he’s out” when I asked where he was and Beck sort of concurring with this Matt is “out” thing by, I guess, just going with us.

Me? I thought Matt being “out” meant he was, ya know, OUT, like for the evening, with friends or something. No, seems Matt is “out” means, to the two of them, he’s “out” driving, delivering for Grub Hub, in his car, on basically his own schedule, with a phone readily available that can be called to ask if he wants to cut the driving short and go with us to see a movie … a call that was NOT made by the way.

I didn’t know any of this until after the movie when Beck told me that Matt had texted she and Jake while we were about halfway through the film asking where everybody was. Wow, talk about instant guilt, though on Beck and Jake’s part, this guilt shit was NOT on me, though I did feel awful, to the point where we had to stop at an ATM on the way home so I could get cash to give to Jake to pay for Matt as Jake, as I mentioned up top, immediately thought to cast aside his guilt by saying he would gladly go see the movie again the next day.

I told him it had to be as soon as possible to also alleviate the guilt I was now feeling just by proximity.  

Beck? She didn’t get off so easy as her guilt just gnawed at her and pretty much ruined the second half of the movie while she just wallowed in the knowledge of Matt’s abandonment by his formerly attentive, loving Mother in a cold, dark, silent, empty, loveless and blockbuster sci-fi flick bereft house.   

But since Jake did take Matt to see it as quickly as he did I’m still going to say that we are 2 for 2 on Movie Fridays and on our way home from the sheep filled second one we passed a bowling alley I didn’t know was there (I’m still discovering parts of Schenectady). Maybe that can be a Friday thing at some point as well and bowling is the universes great laughter filled equalizer right?

I know I’ve made a point of presenting here in the attic my solitary nature and how I’ve tried to nurture that further over the last number of years but I am also very aware that no man is an island, as has been written, more aware of it now anyway. Now mind you, it’s not that I haven’t thought of island scenario’s though, of what, say, 10 CD’s I would bring that would only end up being helpful to use defensively as small ninja frisbees or little mirrors to reflect sunlight into the eyes of predators, distracting them long enough for me to continue staying frozen in fear waiting for them to refocus and then eat me just a few extra moments of life and proper enough time to soil myself later, or wondering how I suddenly found myself in the company of bunch of scary, feral English kids who kept leaving bloody Boar’s heads in my lean-to or even searching wreckage on a beach for friendly volleyballs or the depths of the island for secret, hidden WW2 era secret freaky stuff secret facilities.

But no, I’ve recently come to that “no man is an island” realization more and more and now look forward to adding to the list of winning films seen on Movie Fridays with the gang, or maybe that big fun of bowling, or even the memorial day weekend trip Beck, Matt and I have planned (sadly Jake can’t make this one with work stuff) to see my brother at his new digs in North Carolina … he and his three cats. That’s a total of 8 between the three of us crazy cat lady people siblings in case you were curious which I know you’re not (unless you too are really good at interested humoring Steve reactions).  

And before I forget, “Project Hail Mary” and “The Sheep Detectives”? Fantastic both and Sheep Detectives will definitely have you searching in spots for excuses for your damp eyes. Go see them with some family, you won’t be disappointed (just don’t forget to call Matt … he’ll find it weird of course but he’s always up to meeting new folks).

Digging to China (poem)

A Quadrille prompt this week at dVerse Poets, “Let’s get digging”, comes from Punam who asks that we use the word “dig” or some form of it or the D – I – G in other words (like digital for example) in the Quadrille, which is a 44 word dVerse Poets poem, not including the title, that includes a prompted word.

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Digging to China

Tried digging to China

see if I would emerge upside down

become different,

new

.

I dug

past waiting worms

bones of my undead ghosts

a rusted lunch box rattling with childhood

foundations on foundations

a Chinese man digging the other way

.

We nodded,

understood

Cricket and the Bird Window (Zuihitsu poem)

A new prompt at dVerse Poets is of a poetry called Zuihitsu. The Prompt is here and explains with a number of fantastic examples.

Now whether I’m on the right track with the style of this I’m not really sure, I could be completely off base, but it seems to me that this one does have a bit of room for interpretation so …

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Cricket and the Bird Window

I’ve a blind cat named Cricket whose Meow sounds like a plaintive cry, a howl, a meowl if you will, as she stretches her neck upwards to throw it to some cat gods that only she knows though sometimes I think, or hope, that maybe it’s a cry for me, her constant in the darkness, and that is enough for me to mean something.

I opened a wintered window last night to today’s changing morning to shock me with light birds, happier ones, not slogging with heavy wings, heavy thoughts

No one mourns some passings

They danced me stories in their landings that seeped and steeped behind my eyes into the flickering space where they kept time with my lids and flapped rhythm into song

It’s nice to fly when you can and you wake before you can’t

You can learn lessons from the pained examples of excess and hubris heaped upon us, on our angry daily as I thought to open another window the next night but thought again, thought better, trying to put lessons to use

Cricket could feel the room move around her, change temperature with a cocked nose, under the bird window and she cried, not for me but for new air? For her cat gods? For birds?

Coming back from the grocery store I passed a nursery but couldn’t afford to stop to add anything new to life, just have to hope the hardy ones return and make do with old company

This morning beneath my lids again, in my safe flights, I told the birds not to worry of the cat under the window, she couldn’t see them, they said for me the same, not to worry, that maybe she was just crying for them in the fresh wind, and that that is enough for them to mean something

A Letter to Mom From the Floor (poem)

In a prompt at dVerse Poets this past Thursday Laura invited us to think of letters in a poem.

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Letter To Mom From the Floor

They flew at your insistence

in a uniformed stewardess’s winged pocket

I thought

my letters to the far off

land of your other family

with scrunch faced glue tongued

relief at completion but

hidden glimmed

anticipation

of response

that I write

now          

here in the near off

land of a hospital floor        

realizing immortality not well thought out

and any anticipation

of response

is gray winded under my hat to hide

the unkempt hair of thoughts

in such correspondence now

not the forward days of baseball and friends and camp in the summer

to regale

instead a tangle of years to trip on in the dark

and stumble backwards ghosts of old discovery and wary wisdom and found fear

but fly

still

at your insistence

letters letters to the here off

land of them strung together

to make whole from pieces or more make nonsense all of

a letter to you Mom, in a far, far off

land whole and nonsensical

where maybe they receive mail

in winged stewardess’s pockets too

Clouds (poem)

The theme for this prompt at dVerse Poets is from Grace and is of False Spring and here in Northern New York in the Capital Region we’ve been experiencing a Mother Nature who just can’t seem to make up her mind about which way to go with this whole change of season thing as temps have been fluctuating on some occasions from 35-40 degrees one day to 65-70 the next … and numerous times.

Thinking about wishing for Spring to finally take hold and shake off Winter I actually posted something new with that in mind just a few days ago so the timing is pretty darn near perfect for me to simply add this intro.

Thanks Grace.

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Clouds

It’s time to let birds flutter and feather the shapes of clouds

wing finger flitter away the unslacking closed

airlessdoldrum’sboredomwinteredwindowswantonmonotony

to give slack with renewed bird flown purpose autonomy

and name clouds from our backs

again

finally

like Lucy and Linus and Charlie

The Black Hole – continued (prosery)

Been in a bit of a writing lull lately and feeling a bit under hasn’t helped, just a couple of recent things, but Merril ered up a prosery prompt this week that I liked though a bit of a challenge. Now prosery at dVerese is a 144 word piece of fiction that includes one line from a chosen poem. The line in this case “It all belies Our existence; we wait, and are still denied” from D.H.Lawrence’s “Winter-Lull” which is where this one posed the aforementioned challenge. Hope I used it well.

And this, unintentional but cool, happens to be a continuation to another 144 word prosery prompt that was also offered up by Merril, back in May of last year, The Black Hole.

He lay back in tall grass, hands behind his head, with a straw sprig dangling his lips like those renderings of old book covers watching seagulls (they were called) dart between tall buildings, over snowcapped mountains, straight through cliffs (with glitches) out around a backyard table of children and cake, over charred cities up into horizons angry busy streets of untold stretches of war, water …

“I wish I had one of those wide straw hats too, to go with this strand Marty … peaceful”

“Letzzzetetzzzmebuddlefiddlefixxxxsssses thingzzsssglipat Ssssszzir … oldoldololddzzzsszz vid stories are cracrascrasssszzzzshingtogtozobdgether a-a-mmm-aaa-a-g-gg-gg-gainnnzznnzzngain“

“Don’t bother (looking to a shingle’s thought above the visor) I have no skills for flight or wings to skim the waves effortlessly, like the wind itself joking irony come to life my friend. No, let them crash together Marty … a new ride, like of those called seagulls huh?”

“Peazzzzsssblipburpful”

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“Peazzzzsssblipburpful … Peeeeazzzzzffbbbfullllb … Peesazzzzssssefffullll … Peeasssssffull Sszzir … Peeasssssffull Sszzir!!! … canzz you hearezzz me?! … it’s Peeasssfull Sszzir!!!”

Groggily “Well, Jesus Marty … it’s not all that peaceful now with all your fucking shouting is it?”

“Sszir!! Yourrrrr’re stillll therez, thhhanks goooodnesszz!!”

“Any idea where we are Marty?”

“Noze ccccluuuee Sszzir!”

“Why does it sound like you’re happy with this?”

“Beccccaaausszzzze weee’re sstills here, noooo mmatttttersszz wherezzz its issss”

“Well, that’s a good point Marty” he said taking measure of the cockpit of his ship somehow still intact, nonsensical readings on the controls and an even less sensical view out the viewport “that is a very good point … I think”

“Youzz thiiink??”

“It all belies our existence, we wait, and are still denied but yet we are here, in one piece Marty … shot through a black hole into … nothing?”

Bella Dreams in Catscope? (poem)

We had Laura, at the end of the week at dVerse Poets, with a prompt: MTB: Two and a Half Rhyme where she asks for us to write a 12 line (at least) poem consisting of couplets.

And so, for today’s MTB prompt we are writing in two lines stanzas as rhyming couplets thus:

Poetry Rules:

  • Write at least 12 lines of poetry in couplets
  • separate the poem into couplets of 2 line stanzas
  • the couplets must rhyme but only using half or para rhymes [see examples below]

Now, I did my best, hopefully, to stick to the half or para rhyme’s … this was definitely a challenging prompt and a very cool one.  

What does my Bella dream?

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Bella Dreams in CatScope?

Bella dreams in CatScope? Dreams I do not know
nor be told if I were to ask, could possibly understand in the fold’s

of fur coated scampers from the depths of a plush cat head
with a fresh laid towel and a space heater heart

Does she recall window scenes in those CatScope dreams
our years passed through open screens of Spring and Summer’s shared breeze

of life whispered into a house cat’s thoughts, “if only” adventures touched
with grass and trees, squirrels and mice, birds and bees and many limbed windowsill bugs

or even something more, as ongoing and endless as yesterday’s cat of being
stretching to non-fatal curiosities today again curled in this CatScope to begin

or continue secrets she keeps in her meditations and even communes
maybe a spirit only she knows of and what it calls truth

while letting me live the conceit of her world being of just us, me
with a stretch for a yawned pet but a different reality entirely

scampering from the depths of a plush cat head
with a fresh laid towel and a space heater heart

Refrigerator Finger Gallery Art (poem)

Heading home day’s light lights a little later

now

its painting horizon’s short wall

and stops considering

tired winter encroaching  

where it had endlessly

coldly

seemed

always

to quickly bundle and blow out

nightstand candles

but begins to allow

day’s lighter jacketed child to implore Mom for just a little more

time to paint some

stripes across the bottom of the sky

an index swipe of orange

a middle swish of lightened brown

ring splotched holes of blue

a pinkie splash of pinkened red

thumb swashes of yellows

and a palm splat to sign a name

for proud refrigerator finger gallery art

heralding Spring soon sprung

hung with magnets of Suns and Moons

A Boy And His Cat In A Cone Plastic Hat – (poem re-visit with audio read)

Ok, so a re-post in the Attic here for a dVerse Poets open link night, where you can contribute/link any poem of yours that you would like or you can choose to write something new to whatever that week’s open link prompt may be.

Now, I’ve never written anything new in response to that night’s prompt though I do recall maybe using one of those prompts and writing something new to it later on, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never contributed anything in the way of a link to an older piece of my mine though on that point I am not entirely confident as I’ve wanted to post this particular one for a while so part of me forgets as to whether I actually did.

If so, my apologies, but I can be sure that even if I have already I didn’t post the audio of my read along with with it and that helps, by the way, as it is a bit long.

Whatever the case may be, here is my Seussian-like Ode to a dear, dear Orange friend of mine that I wrote for him back in 2019 a few years after he had passed.

His name was “Shoes”.

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February, 2019

For three plus years now I’ve had this single line rattling round my noggin, bumping into shit. “A Boy And His Cat In A Cone Plastic Hat.” A Dr Seussian type line that has never let me be. I’ve written many a word around it in my head over these years as I remember Shoes and the walks he and I would take around the drive/roadway and parking lots that circled our apartment complex during his last month or so. It was a time for me that was as equally heartbreaking as it was wondrous. I know I’ve brought up Shoes often, enough so that it may seem tired, but he was one of those friends that needs be remembered and brought up often for what he was. A reminder of who we are. A reminder of what is/was true. I think, maybe, I’ve finally got this down now. Bear with me.

A Boy And His Cat In A Cone Plastic Hat Audio

A Boy And His Cat In A Cone Plastic Hat

There was a boy and his cat in a cone plastic hat
Who found themselves walking this way and way that
In circles round home on a night by night trip
He talkin’ cat list’nin’
At a calm peaceful clip


You see


The boy’s cat in this cone plastic hat was not well
And the boy he had many long stories to tell
To his dearest of friends of 11 grand years
But trying to do so without shedding his tears

So they walked and he talked on these perfect (s) of nights
Allowing this cat in the cone plastic hat
Some flights
Footed outside
For the first time in his life
A gift from the boy to this cat’s great delight

And the cat in the cone plastic hat listened just right
Though now minus one ear from a Doctor’s try stop
The other had might
Enough to catch stories spun high in the air
By his boy who he followed with great love and great care

Along their way they passed people and pets
Both large and both small
To the cat in the cone plastic hat though
They were all tall
But he came to grow big as they petted and gushed
With attention he loved
As they marveled his gifts to walk with no rush
With his boy who just smiled some big hearty hugs

This cat in the cone plastic hat waited by day
For the sound of boy’s car
To home come from what seemed so
So far
Far away
To make
Way
Stairs
Down,
No dilly
No dally
As time for him was no longer an ally

You see

The cat in the cone plastic hat knew he hadn’t this time
He wanted their friendship to grow and to shine
But for this shortest of moments
In the grandness of things
They would stride steady together with the greatness of kings

It was stories of boy that were of utmost import
In walks round their round he would offer support
While cat sniffing cat checking
Getting caught in the brush
His cone plastic hat it was flush
Filled with tales flung way far
That dearly so meant
So,
So much

There was even a day
This cat in the cone plastic hat
Got chance just to play
And to lead while, of course, always knowing the way
Minus his hat
Oh glorious day
Then bringing boy back to that place they called home
Where all with the boy it was always the known

But there were things this cat in the cone plastic hat knew needed be said
Of what would become in his absence of stead
Of what boy would do after the gone
Where time it would shorten but still feel so
Long

The cat in the cone plastic hat knew just what
What knew of just such
What knew sure of be that too long
A day
To help him stay strong
To make it not much
He’d say

Goodbye
He thought
In life’s wonder of walks
This cat who was now at in his cone plastic hat
But remembering time where this wasn’t just that
When play was a shoelace tossed long and just right
For wondrous of times and of silly fun fights
Of a mouse down to chase
Or a titter hand tat
And all while wearing no such special hat

But paw forward he would
This way and way that
His best boy in the world as well as he could
To friends who he knew he should
Surely point true
To others in fur and some so in skin
But still remind them that his name was Shoes

Always Shoes

You see

He resides now in heart held so very so strong
Of a nightstand’s still perch
Sensing short winded nightmares long
So sudden jerks
To come down and so sweetly lay to boy’s left
To calm him to know that all was still well
That there would still be so many more stories to tell
That there will always be some more to be said

Now sleep just go back
“We’re hittin’ the rack”
As you always would say
Ahead of tomorrow’s a brand new grand day
Rest your boy head
The begin has its end but ends beg begin … always
Get some sleep for right now
At least
My dearest of friends

Can We Whistle? (solidarity) – (poem)

From Grace at dVerse Poets this week she prompted of poems of questions.

“Today, we shift the focus from poetry form to craft style. Specifically: poems built around questions that remain unanswered.”

So, one here then with just one overriding question.

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Can We Whistle? (solidarity)

Can we all whistle while

they work at whistling

in bitter climate

of fear

loss

whistling a new work whistle out of pocket out of heart out of anger gig economy of

whistle walking with intent, purpose

of community

humanity

no freedom’s thievery to mask

here

whistling OF the wind

with the wind

down the wind

up the wind

sideways wind’s angers past fresh graveyards

whistling still in the woods

but

worth a whistling’s

raised hand at the station

to halt the train of dark history’s whistle stops

and its dogs

whistled to existence again

.

Can we all whistle?