A Something …

Hey rhyme?

What?

You here?

No.

Word rhymes head stead lost times, crimes, crimes? makes no sense, now you’re just searching words, you’re innocent right dumb nut numb of times absurd, too much a word but not quite enough that would be instead something entirely different had head been  … head … 

Lame

… but being done …

Doesn’t rhyme with anything

… with them, me, he, one, poorly done surely just one in search of a poem …

You suck

Poem are you here?

No

You guys are killin’ me, well fuck, can I at least sing a song?

Please, no

But a little ditty with a drink raised to … imagined heroes run ran ran run taking …

Lame twice

… seriously. Cant I finish?

No

Shit. I need you poem. I’m trying to build a something and rhyme just mocks me

As she should. But she’s rhyme, so condescending. Thinks she’s the ends all

Rhyme:  Shut up poem

But isn’t rhyme … and aren’t you … ?

No … yes. There’s more to it

Well how should I build this?

That’s not me

Why?

I’m poem. I’m the finished product. I can offer no other assistance just unwanted opinion

but …

No

Dammit

a catalwaysinalapaoneoncecatinahatallowmethatthispeaceasIsitthey’regoneshe’sgoneI’m  scribbling. Words they don’t come, scuffle scuffle …

Well now you’re just rhyming same words

Shut up poem! I’m just throwin’ shit …

Call me when you’re done

I kind of if like it

Poem: Of course you do

Rhyme: Oh stop, I like simple

… a scuffle’s ruffling, rustling brush to flush out that pretty thrush … to see it fly …

Keep trying

… but where to find where it lands is the question she said it’s just a bird fuck your rhyme just be mine only mine she said …

Issues this guy

Fuck you and your rhyme rhyme, time, it’s not her fault

… can you love me, statement, no question you said almost …

What? I thought

 

Poem, you’re kind of a dick ya know

What did I say about finished project?

Ahhhhhh, son of a bitch

How about we just open some windows, it’s almost spring, an air of need, fresh start indeed, fuck rhyme, just a start, no I won’t add heart for a word, too easy, but will without the word, instead, just open a fucking window. Mimi the Quirky knows, my Bella knows, Cricket the Blind knows. Man, the air… let it wash fear, near, here, past maybe with a breeze, open a window. There’s a reason why this is perfect apologize, not apologize while three who know all with laps and an open window, it’s what they do, allow, I’m miss ….

To Emily … 

Danielle … 

Maria … 

Poem:  That’s a good bit of miss

I know, it was a me. Remind me to hate you

Poem: Just sayin’. Did you finish yet? I’m waiting

Fuck you poem

 

 

 

Asides

So “aside” from everything that is happening now …

Put some Facebook posts together again wrapped around something new. I know an “aside” can be viewed as simply just our everyday us but things are different now and we almost feel compelled to lessen this everyday “us” when speaking of the greater that’s happening right now. But it is still important … still necessary.

(Note: an aside … a something we could certainly use right about now)

Was just at the PC doing the usual keyboard scribbling, no cats on my lap for the moment or clamoring to be so as per the usual, when I got up and turned to head into the kitchen.

“Ummmmm, Memes (Mimi the Quirky)?”

“What?”

“Shit, do I have to clear my Tab’s history now?”

Mimi in front my Tab

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

(Note: another aside ’cause we need them, I need them, to distract from the fear)

From the files of “Because of course and what next?”

Read earlier today in a survey at a morning show prep-site that, with the isolation of laying low and self quarantining, there has been an uptick in folks … uhhh … how to put this delicately … ummm … just delicately, by the way, as there a’int no diplomatically in this case … happyin’ themselves? And it quoted a Doctor that said that this … “happyin'” … is a good thing and would help bolster a person’s immune health.

Well, now that’s a whole new avenue huh?

Be safe all … seriously … and, NO, I don’t want to know.

“What?”

“No! … for God’s sake leave that shit in your phone!!”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////

(Note: asiding again. Maybe this is a time for all of us to find “asides”, things that are important to us while we fearfully just sit).

Over the years I’ve discovered that there are certain things that have fallen to the wayside, things that I couldn’t have imagined, at the time, or in the future, would lose their importance. A getting old thing I guess, maybe. Music is probably the biggest one. There was a time where anything new, and I mean ANYTHING, anything would have been on the radar for me. Anthony’s “shit” pile of record company CD’s at DVE jumps to mind. A just waiting to be discovered three or four foot high pile of hopefuls that was mine and Russ’s always early Christmas when allowed, our treasure trove, an often whole weekend of listening (how I first discovered Counting Crows) a thing where I really miss working at a place with a heritage alternative station like WRRV or my similar days at the X in Pittsburgh or the Edge in Dayton, any band, any sound, where keeping up with new stuff was like a religion, where the latest from my guy Bob Mould, for example, would have had me waiting in a line that didn’t exist, but a line I started.

But his latest has come and gone. I actually had to remind myself recently to Wiki him and check. I will still buy it at some point when those couple of dollars are there and I can justify them and pop it in BB’s dinosaur CD player while cursing other cars and those who can’t fathom simple traffic signs, but the being at the top of the list? Days long gone.

I’ve got my few things in BB’s glove compartment from the 80’s and 90’s that are my go-to’s, the Rave-Ups, The Rainmakers, Dead Can Dance, Winter Hours, the aforementioned Bob Mould and anything related, Spoon for a somewhat more current, my always Chameleons UK, Counting Crows, things that I can sing, things that do a bit of reminding, but I haven’t reached in there in quite some time.

I don’t know what Neil Gaiman’s latest book is (though I have “Anansi Boys” in my manbag waiting for a new page or two to be read if I’m stuck at an office that overloads its patient’s appointment schedule like everyone else) and I haven’t found the time to check whether my other guy, Gene Wolfe, is even still alive.

I’ve kind of dropped football. Didn’t watch a single down until about week 14 this season, though I’ve recently checked in with its version of “hot stove”, interested, at least, with its happenings for now and maybe just Jonesing for any kind of news, just trying to stay current for conversation.

I guess I’m not completely disconnected from my loves but the light of their importance has certainly dimmed.

But the one thing that needs an “aside”, that one thing that I’m missing through all of this is baseball.

Yes, you can dismiss baseball and all professional sports if you will with your more than justifiable arguments about batshit crazy unworldly salaries. I can’t argue you that. I will though offer that I’ve always looked at it as an industry within its own bubble. Their market is what their market will allow. Like the pipefitter or the cop or the accountant have what it is considered their wage in their own bubbles so does major league sports. I know that’s lame, nothing justifies paying these guys what they’re paid, especially by comparison, NO, big sports guy, you are NOT worth that, EVER, get over yourself and give the rest of us a break, but as a fan of something that has been at the core of my being for almost 50 years, I’ll allow it if need be.

Plus, what am I gonna do about the bubble? Rules and roster changes though? Don’t get me started on Rob Manfred. “insert appropriate word” clueless.

Every year since its inception I try and get my taxes done early so I can buy the MLB.TV package, to be able to watch my Buccos, buy it before I realize I could have used that hundred bucks for simple stuff like food.

I’m missing that baseball right now.

And, as to this, stay with me, my bestest of buddies, JJ, is a big fan of posting to Facebook via its “stories”. Shit still makes no sense to me, flitting wisps of people’s moments that just disappear. Color me old I guess but posting something that isn’t actually a post but was intended to be a post just seems silly, especially for the seeming seconds you have to witness it.

I did though respond to one of his recent “stories”, it involved his cats, I know … whodathunk? … and discovered when I did that my response and his “story” ended up in Facebook messenger. So now I know at least that this crap goes somewhere. When I looked though, I saw that the last time he and I had actually messaged each other was 4 years ago. It was about baseball and a post I wrote here in the Attic in its old form about how he and I have caught at least one Pirates/Mets game every year since we first realized we got along as friends might, other than two, which is my bad. Going on 16 or 17 years now as long as baseball comes back … baseball … normalcy … the health of all of us.

Long story long … sorry … another aside.

But it’s a post that, as I read it again (even with wanting to edit the shit out of it), reminded me of my one true joy. Of all the things that may have fallen to a different “aside” over the years baseball is NOT one of them.

A fond remembrance

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

(Note: more on the asides) …

Did my usual run to Stop N Shop earlier today (fucking habits), but a real quickie with hands washed and face not touched when done (however difficult it may be to not fondle this handsome, according to my mom at least, mug. Hold on … sorry … just made myself laugh.

The essential essentials, seltzer and kitty litter … whittling it down to just that. Already stocked up on Friskies and beer and prayer and my usual small Steve food so, after said whittling, I hope to be good. Was gonna grab a few extra on the Friskies front but, apparently, cat food is like toilet paper now. There were literally 10 cans of those small Fancy Feasts … in the entire cat canned food spot … that’s it … nothing else … empty … (well, 8 now after I left). The girls consider it a treat. But I couldn’t grab all of them, which could easily have been done, a quick arm swipe … there are other cats and other folks owned by them just behind me.

Maybe these “asides” here are just an attempt at normalcy, cracking a joke or two or posting a funny cat pic, I don’t know. Please don’t take it as me making light of the gravity. Believe me, I’m not. I’m frightened and the anxiety doesn’t help thinking you’ve got a something when your breath comes hard because of it.

I discovered a few days ago though, emailing back and forth with a good friend of mine, that whatever anxiety I may be feeling dissipates slowly with conversation, albeit through the waiting of the call and response of email.

I also took a moment to write a bit. It’s a nothing really, well not really a nothing, these words are a me, but I just took these small posts and added those (these now) few words, ok, more than a few, words about a time, things lost, things remembered, things that are just things but are still an important.

And I also came across and re-visited an old post about baseball that I’ve already mentioned here, and trips to the ballpark with a bestest (yeh, as I’ve said before – bestest – problem with a made up word mother….er ?!) of friends.

It’s actually pretty good as I look at it again 4 years later.

We all need some “asides”.

Here’s a cheap beer raised to remembering the otherwise.

Be safe all …

Cheers from me and Bella and the Unintentionals,

Bella old chair

mimi pillow

Cricket #1

 

A Regular Frankenweekend … With Concerns

Facebook – Saturday Evening March 14

After coming downstairs yesterday morning, grabbing a seat across from the couch and picking up little Spanky, the now, unfortunately, one eyed Pirate of a dog in my lap I said to Celie “Arrrggghh (pirate talk) and be alright, but after I be getting home tonight, a bit late after some time in my little studio to be a’fixin’ a few things on my latest sea shantie, I’ll be but hunkering down for the weekend”

spanky the pirate

(I stole the thought of the “be’s” and the pirate talk from a brilliant and funny story I recently read at The New Yorker. Learning The Ropes by Simon Rich. You may have the time now, so take a moment. It be well worth it).

Celie: Corona?

Me: Yeh.

Celie: Stop and Shop in the morning?

Me: Well, except for that. Then Yeh.

Celie: Get cat food, litter, beer, seltzer and small Steve food?

Me: Of course, though no beer. Too early. I’ll be going down when they open at 6. Less people. I’m also all set in the beer regard. Staple already stocked. And then no human contact other than that nice woman who works Saturday mornings there … I want to call her Grace but that’s not it … it’s shorter … Kay maybe. … or Gay … her and possibly that other woman who may pop by to not need to bag my stuff.

Celie: So, just a regular weekend?

Me: Hey! … it’s a hunkering … waaay different thank you Ms smartypants.

Celie: Gotcha.

Well maybe my well honed skills at being anti-social will work in my favor during all this. Tell the universe I didn’t say that out loud by the way.

I did though fix up and finish my latest tune, adding a few soundbites as well as changing the “na-na’s”.

Changing the “na-na’s?’ Now that sounds kinda funny.

I was a “na-na” on the initial “na-na’s”?

“You Can Call Me King” – song

 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Facebook – Saturday Late Night March 14

Not making light in my last post by the way … (amend) … actually, I was … a little. Apologies. But my admitted anti-social solo tendencies are really a bonus I think, in days like these. I like nothing better than that quick, friendly, early Saturday morning conversation with the Kay or Gay who feels more like a Grace cashier at Stop and Shop but then being done for the weekend. Finished. Kaput. Over. No more people other than those that claim fur.

If I get up with my daily 7a alarm I feel like I’m running late, plus I just hate the thought of getting up at that same regular time like the rest of the week. I’ll be damned if the weekend isn’t on MY time. Even if it means NOT sleeping in, especially when cat naps could possibly be had later. I don’t make nearly enough $$ to have it feel like I have to do it again on the weekend so I like to be up by 6 with the week done by 8 on a Saturday, when I can, laundry down and thoughts aside, other than these. Can’t spend any money just hangin’ with the whiskered girls on your hip and workin’ on a few words or tunes or words on tunes while waitin’ for clean, warm underwear right?

But for those that are feeling anxious, as I am, I have my well wrought, well earned respiratory issues believe me, hang in there. Follow the simple and keep your head down if you can with maybe an elbowed sleeve over your face … just imagine you’re a cliche’d overly dramatic vampire … now go check out my latest post/tune in Frankenberry’s Attic. HeHeHeHe. Hey, we’re all shameless.

Be well all.

Oh, haven’t thrown the requisite Steve’s cats pics up in a little while, along with Pea just being a sleep boss and some Bowls O’ Penny … damn good looking dude that he is, just minus him being kind of a dick an’ all.

Me: Sorry Penny but you is what you is.

Penny: Yeh, point. Can I still follow you around though, ’cause I actually like you but then sort of nastilly grab at your leg as you walk by before looking for a pet? Oh, I’ll probably try to grab at your hand too. I find this interaction to be more on the playful side by the way though some seem to view it otherwise.

Me: Could be their bleeding.

Penny: Point … again.

Me: But Sure. Knock yourself out.

Penny: Cool, thanks.

Me: Anytime.

Bowl O' Penny 2

Bella pillow

Cricket under covers

Mimi computer chair

Pea being boss

Bowl O' Penny

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Facebook – Sunday Night March 15

Though getting back at it tomorrow is not something I’m looking forward to, no one really is I imagine, especially with not knowing whether we’ll be/I’ll be tripping over tumbleweeds at work or not making the paranoia worse, there is this.

A get Monday behind you and just make it home.

A Bella in her window, a Cricket the Blind on fresh sheets (been looking forward to them all day, she just beat me to it … smart cat) a Mimi the Quirky who hasn’t realized yet that I’m off the computer where she HAS to be when I’m keyboard scribbling, just to my right, always, a stink bug razing my noggin who I’m calling ‘Ralph’ for a more personalized reference in my cursings at him and that rooster who is hopefully going to a new home soon, though I’ll miss the cockle-doodle-doos underneath my ass in the mornings. They’re kind of comforting actually. Amazing feathers like fur this little guy. I’m thinking Sia could wear him on her head, just having to deal with all the pecking and scratching around of course. He his also Ok with being in the crook of my left arm as I ready garage cat bowls with my right for some dinner. 

(completely aside from all of this zoom in, if ya can, on the picture of Mimi the Quirky on my computer desk where you’ll see a holiday card from the Ulster County SPCA from around 9 years ago tacked to the wall. My Bella is in the bottom left hand corner of that card as a kitten in a stocking … just love that pic)

Night all.

Bella in her window fancy

Cricket comfy sheets

Mimi PC desk

This guy rooster

Facebook – Monday Almost Tuesday (thereabouts) March 16

I ended up not being in today but I did talk to Randy (my boss) and Pamal is closed down for the moment. Still on the air of course, but just the essential folks (hoping I stay such) jocks and Randy and I in production, though with he and I splitting the time. A passing punch in/punch out “Mornin’ Ralph, Mornin’ Sam” sorta thing.

For those that may not have seen my recent meanderings, and thus aren’t quite terribly annoyed with me yet, I took my posts from the weekend and put them into one in the Attic.

I just like seeing them together like this, pics an’ all.

I also want to note, again, that in the first of the three posts, now four, that I combined in this blog entry I briefly talk pirate talk with some pirate “be’s”, ie: “I be this” or “I be that” or “ye better be gettin’ off my lawn ya little scallywags! Got’s me a peg leg I ain’t be a’feared of a usin’, even if it be makin’ me lopsided ta do so!”… you get the idea. I just want to give credit where credit is due and to where that thought came from, that fantastic story from The New Yorker, “Learning the Ropes” by Simon Rich that I came across recently and mentioned earlier. It may be a bit long for this quickie, short attention burst time that we live in but it’s well worth the extra minutes if ya got ’em (and I imagine you just might) and the laughs. I’ll be owin’ ya a gold doubloon, verifyin’ it in me teeth as we speaks, if ya don’t be likin’ it.

Cheers as always gang,

You Can Call Me King – (Song)

After coming downstairs yesterday morning, grabbing a seat across from the couch and picking up little Spanky, the now, unfortunately, one eyed Pirate of a dog in my lap I said to Celie “Arrrggghh (pirate talk) and be alright, but after I be getting home tonight, a bit late after some time in my little studio to be a’fixin’ a few things on my latest shantie, I’ll be but hunkering down for the weekend”

spanky the pirate

(I stole the thought of the “be’s” and the pirate talk from a brilliantly funny story I recently read at The New Yorker. Learning The Ropes by Simon Rich. Shit sticks in your craw. You may have the time now, so take a moment. It be well worth it).

Celie: Corona?

Me: Yeh.

Celie: Stop and Shop in the morning?

Me: Well, except for that. Then Yeh.

Celie: Get cat food, litter, beer, seltzer and small Steve food?

Me: Of course, though no beer. Too early. I’ll be going down when they open at 6. Less people. I’m also all set in the beer regard anyway. Staple already stocked. And then no human contact other than that nice woman who works Saturday mornings there … I want to call her Grace but that’s not it … it’s shorter … Kay maybe. … or Gay … her and possibly that other woman who may pop by to not need to bag my stuff.

Celie: So, just a regular weekend?

Me: Hey! … it’s a hunkering … waaay different thank you Ms Smartypants.

Celie: Gotcha.

Well maybe my well honed skills at being anti-social will work in my favor during all this. Tell the universe I didn’t say that out loud by the way.

I did though fix up and finish my latest tune, adding a few soundbites as well as changing the “na-na’s”.

Changing the “na-na’s?’ Now that sounds kinda funny.

I was a “na-na” on the initial “na-na’s”?

/////////////////////////////////////////////

A man lies as he breathes
He says why would you trust another now
Who can you possibly trust
Now I’ve shown you what my facts is
A fascist truth sledgehammer
Nuthin’ else believe-able matters
Other than this con in this con man’s swamptown

(and a-oooh ah-oooh)

Lap dogs in orange swamplight
Here’s a lie-ball GOP go fetch excuses

Newsman, newsman
Get these facts away from me, ya know,
No one finds real truth interesting anymore

If you’ll loyalty me blind
I can be your despot chum
I can call you subject
And subject you adore me
You can call me Czar

This man original Trumper says
There can never be a never me
If there’s a never me they’ll never be
Happy in a sea of me
Where will the answers come from
If I don’t truly be-lieve
Who will I turn to when
The truth slaps me
Awake and awake
To the harsh realities
Of Moscow Mitch’s word marble hypocriteness
Hammers and sickles
Getting stocked up in the open
Along with some of the finest cossack hats

If you’ll loyalty me blind
I’ll let you kneel and kiss my ring
I can call you subject
And subject you adore me
You can call me King
You can call me King

A man late night he’s tweeting
How he’s a victim in this world
Maybe it’s a big blue meanie world
Where they’re just out to get him
And they don’t see his genius
Or see how great he his
The greatest all narcissists
Surrounding himself with nothing more than
Clowns clowns
Who dance for him like marionettes
In a tiny orange circus

He checks the mirror again
Sees Messiah staring back at him
At least that’s what the hacks say
And he so believes them

If you’ll loyalty me blind
I can be your despot chum
I can call you subject
And subject you adore me
You can call me Don

Na-na-na-na-na
Just call me king-na-na
You can kiss my ring na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Loyalties the thing na-na
Better never sing na-na
I’ll take your everything na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Better give up mind now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
You’ll be just fine now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Just a matter of time now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Democracy dies now

If you’ll loyalty me blind

I’ll let you kneel and kiss my ring

I can call you subject

And subject you adore me

You can call me King

Nephew Jake, A Happily “Lost” Phone And Spider-Man

Facebook February 29:

Went to shoot my nephew, Jake, a text earlier but couldn’t find my phone. Did a bit of a not all that pressing search of the apartment.

Nothin’

Remembered I had done my usual run to Stop N Shop earlier, around 8a. Detectived downstairs to discover my man bag in the garage where I apparently had left it while carting in cat food, litter, seltzer, Saturday night beer (staples) and some other grocery store Steve needs to eat kinda things.

Realized when I went to shoot this text to Jake, just now, at 1:45p, that I hadn’t missed my phone for almost 7 hours.

Fucking, unintentional, glorious.

Facebook March 1:

So, after sending that text to my nephew that I mentioned earlier to let him know of my email response to his very well detailed and thought out plot/summary of a story he’s been working on (dude’s already got some chops I’m envious of) I decided to take in a flick. Me and the girls with some lap time on a lazy Saturday night.

Though I am an admitted, self professed sci fi/fantasy geek I’ve never really been one for comics and the Marvel universe or any comic book universe for that matter. I know as a said sci fi geek that that should be wheelhouse stuff and I should surrender my sci fi geek card right now but I’ve always missed the appeal. Maybe it’s the question of what super hero would you be or what one super power would you choose that I always found silly, even beyond my already willing suspension of disbelief. That is though, except for Spider-Man. I still remember, as a kid, crying at the origin story and the tragedy of uncle Ben the first time I read it. Ton of bricks. That was real to me then for some reason but I still would have been him in a heartbeat, heartbreak or not. There was a solitary but powerful loneliness to Spider-Man I could relate to. So I decided to watch the animated “Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse” on Netflix.

What an absolutely brilliantly imagined and original take on not only Spider-Man, but comic book movies in general. I can’t recommend it more highly. Even old girl Mimi the Quirky took note it seemed while trying her damndest to do innate cat stuff and block the screen. There was a lot of “Meems? … bad spot Meems … move over here Meems … that’s better Meems … no, not there Meems … right here is good Meems … trying to watch a movie Meems … Mom says you’d make a better door than a window Meems … ” and so on …

Cheers all,