May 2020

Sisters

May 30, 2020July 1, 2020by Stephen J FrankenberryLeave a Comment

Celie and I are pretty much on the same page with everything though the recent has tested that. My apologies Celie. She has her feelings about all of this, some conspiracies that aren’t without merit, points to be made and points I listen to as I love and respect her on the same high pedestal level as my other sisters. My actual sis, Rebecca Frankenberry who is my beacon of sanity (though I’m sure she’d argue the sanity point … mine AND hers), my go to phone call when the noggin gets a bit dicey, Brenda Mulcare my savoir when I lived above she and her best of guys, Bobby Mulcare and a Sandy then who was quite possibly the best furry welcome home a single guy could ask for, even rivaling my Shoes or Bella or Grayson at the time, but she was the one who saved me from my distress 3 years ago before my unexpected and limbo-like hospital stay, but more than that just one moment, she was my friend and another adopted sis, Beth Park Creighton who has always been there, will always be there, even if you haven’t earned the privilege but I have so mine has an import. I glory in that and sleep a bit better because of it, though sleep and I still don’t always agree. Actually, we argue quite often.

Then there are the ladies, Jonna Spilbor and Keryl M Pesce, who weekly, for years now, have given me reason to not just produce and be a part of a radio show but to share the silly and the stupid and to bounce my anxieties off of. Wow, I guess that’s quite a number of sisters huh? I want to say there’s something about pants here, a sisterhood, somewhere, though round square, I just can’t quite put my finger on it.

Back on point though, as I could easily go on, I was talking comfort and maybe Celie and I not being on the same page. She’s been much better with all of this than me and myself? I’ve almost welcomed the distancing, I’ve been given a reason to tell you all to piss off (nothing personal of course) and retreat into my own little world of me and the girls (seems a theme huh?)

But, to stay on point, all this post was intended to be, was just a few words wrapped around a couple of pictures, of a Celie project, her latest. I can blab though and it’s nice what can come of just getting those first few words down.

After finally going downstairs and doing what I’ve always done, haven’t done in too long though, and washing some dog and cat bowels, lining them up just right on a towel next to the sink that will surely annoy her, I realized part of me was back.

After letting the gang out and minding them, have to mind them (one thing I try never to do is change up what I walk into at the bottom of the stairs …that’s gone poorly in the past … if the gang is in they’re in) I got back to finishing up those cat and dog bowls, finally, after spending the last almost 3 months just hanging a hard left at the mud room and heading up the stairs.

I also though just wanted to take a couple of pics of Celie’s latest. Guys? I’m gonna out ya right now if you haven’t kept up with the honey do’s and other projects, if you haven’t kept your word to get them done, Celie puts you all to shame. She’s painted the whole downstairs and then she had a vision of the little hill above the pool and it’s been done in three days. Absolutely beautiful stones.

Here’s an unintentional post inspired by the idea of a picture. There’s always a backstory.

And a “Pea” by the way. Not to play favorites, but to play favorites, I so love that dog.

Celie stones 1 Celie stones 2 Celie stones 4 and a Pea

Must … Posit … Faster

May 30, 2020May 31, 2020by Stephen J FrankenberryLeave a Comment

“must go faster” … only we’re not being hunted down by re-animated angry dinosaurs, just current actual animated ones, corrupted elephants instead, that aren’t chasing us for food but for our thought’s foods need, flesh not it, mind.

“must … post … faster” … faster before the dumb consumes whatever may be left. No break allowed. At least Mr Goldblum, you were able to escape. Oh, for this only being a movie.

Fact check – bad (pesky fuckers)

Encourage on color violence, it’s not a maybe benefit of the doubt, or it is (more certainly) a that black and white thing – bad (well, not according to some good people on both …)

Thin skinned threats and lame grandiose political follow through’s – bad/good

Baby General wishes – good

Authoritarian response – good

“must … think … faster”

I’m, we’re, being chased on a daily basis by a dumb that is all consuming, a cloud, dark, has been for too many these three plus years, one that knows that there is a wearing down of whatever acuity may still be left. The 101 being a class followed, the handbook in tow, walking the halls of ignorance, joking side by side, that book in hand, such a sledgehammer, a one of obvious pounded simplicity.

I’ve tried shooting up Lysol, drinking bleach, hittin’ hydro and maybe diabetes meds and shoving an AV lamp for a look see to check what happens. But I’m dead now. What else is there to do? It’s all in name of State.

“must … stand … faster”

The tough part. Hold your feet, if you can, but like in sand, arms outstretched pushing, holding, truth graveling out underneath those sliding feet, It’s there ahead of us but it’s also in our rear view, gaining, this looking over shoulder is a front shoulder forwards and back, heavy, waiting, son of a bitch, bastard’s workin’ both.

“must … think … faster”

You’d think that would be the easy part. But it’s not and we think way too much. There comes a time for the muck.

The footsteps are there in the follow and the forward wait, stepping, stomping, Giants mocking our thought as you try and run, hiding not an option, trying to find the cave that this came out of, for understanding, a one of grabbing and dragging of hair, proud pounding of rock, salt, an old school, playground dominance of juvenile words, tired taunts, simple hates for a lack of a better.

“must … post … faster”

I’d say “must … law … faster” but that’s gone now.

“must … post … faster” words, ideas, things that gotta be said while they still can, uttered, before a succumb.

“must … posit … faster …”

A “must … posit … faster” ahead … posit ahead of the dumb and the down, any words not State approved, words that actually sit, mean, have heart, sit, tell Tommy or Jenna it’ll be Ok, ruminate, hold attention, mean something before the next news cycle. And fuck the next cycle anyway.

Stay right here. Don’t let it go.

A “must …”

Pandemic Sweatpants

May 26, 2020May 28, 2020by Stephen J Frankenberry3 Comments

Pandemic Sweatpants

With the last 3 months or so being what it is and has been, a lot of us have obviously been stressed and victims of the anxiety that comes with all this. But these stresses and anxieties manifest themselves in different ways.

For me I’ve noticed I’ve become more easily distracted and even more scatterbrained than I can normally be. Last week I made my way to the Dollar General in Wappingers Falls before I got to work, hoping that going in early would give me a better chance of less company in the store. I was correct.

Now I’ve hit Dollar General a few times in the last couple of weeks (gots out free n easy too, both times, coppa’s’ll never catch the likes’a me!!! … “hit” Dollar General … I’m wearing a mask … sorry) figuring it’s a much safer bet than a larger grocery store, surely to be even busier now. I went to Stop N Shop the first weekend of March around when all of this started to go down and I’ve only had to go one other time since, not bad, I stop at PetSmart, also early, when Bella and the Unintentionals needs arise and Dollar General is a bit of a grocery and an everything place, plenty of paper products, cleaning supplies, small home goods (for instance I picked up a new shower curtain before my current one develops it’s own, possibly, sentient ecosystem), stuff to keep Steve not stinky, also cat food and litter if need be etc. It serves most needs. Yes, there are some things they just don’t have there but I can certainly manage … at least until my freezer is empty.

Plus, it has one dollar cans of comfort food in the grocery section … ya can’t go wrong with Beefaroni and Spaghetti O’s for just a buck now can ya? And they have a dollar aisle that can’t be beat. I got toothpaste, aluminum foil, some flimsy rolls of toilet paper that will last, probably, for about only 2 sitdowns and even a hot sauce I’ve never tried, Louisiana Hot Sauce, but, with that, I probably should have considered a couple of extra rolls of the flimsy toilet paper, just in case. When it comes to the more noticeable scatterbrainyness I was talking of earlier though I realized when I got home that I had forgotten like half a dozen things, all of which were on a list, a list I took some time with actually, in my phone … in the car. And I didn’t even think about it, at all.

Also, when I was checking out I said to the cashier.

“(sigh) Do you know what I just did?”

“No, what’s that?”

“I just checked 3 pockets with my right hand for the keys that are in my left (double sigh)”

But with the weather finally picking up lately, finally being consistent, not the roller coaster of temp changes and crappiness alternating with brief kinda Ok, maybe our moods have improved a bit as well, easing some of the apprehension, even if only a touch. I’ll take just a touch.

I did realize one thing today though. With it being warmer now I’m gonna have to retire my pandemic sweats for the time being. I call them my pandemic sweats because I’ve been wearing just one single pair of sweatpants to work (yes I’ve been working the whole time, radio doesn’t shut down), 5 days a week, for what, going on 10 weeks now, and the same 5 shirts (though I do change up the days I wear which of the said 5 … I know, bold huh?) with a wash of all on Saturday’s. Oh, and that? Laundry is SOOOO much easier now.

I do this by the way, especially with the sweats, for no other reason than I think it’s funny.

Ok, so maybe it’s not the scatterbrainyness that is as much a concern as a little more pronounced nuttiness? Something I’ll have to work on … oh wait, I’ll just leave it in a new list of reminders on my phone.

Cheers all, be safe.

(by the way, I do understand the gravity of all this, I’m just tryin’ to keep at least some things a little light for sanity’s sake)

Accidental Reminders

May 24, 2020May 26, 2020by Stephen J FrankenberryLeave a Comment

I’ve never been one for finding any importance in holiday weekends, no matter the occasion, other than having a Monday off. But I know for a great deal of us they can be kinda big, yearly gatherings of family and friends, a grill fired up, a beer or two cracked, an eventual argument about politics or religion with that one aunt or that one uncle even knowing you shouldn’t go there.

But, obviously, this one is different. Though I’m all too happy to spend my time with Bella and the Unintentionals in relative quiet (other than my still Alan Parsons soundtrack), the usual weekend for me I know, just with some open windows now, not really concerned with whatever it is that I’m “missing” as we deal with this new normal, a one that continues to require care and forethought, I still understand the miss. I understand that as people are still hunkered down, having had to adjust, that this is a Memorial Day Weekend like no other.

Some of you may have refrained from the gatherings to walk or jog around your neighborhoods, maybe continuing what you’ve been doing all along during this time, exercise a recommended precaution, doing MORE gardening, maybe starting that DIY project you’ve put off since the mid 90’s, taking up painting with old Bob Ross shows for guidance, or you could be Skyping/Zooming with family and friends (as I did last night with two old college friends, man, I miss you two) in lieu of not actually welcoming them through open doors or maybe you’ve just tossed caution and are having a get together anyway. Whatever the case may be I hope for all it is a good and safe weekend.

Me? I decided, after posting a new tune in the Attic, to just go through some old stuff as I transfer files from my old PC to a new one. Yes, I had to buy a new computer and yes, I still have to have a desktop, laptops annoy me (dumb ass mouse) dinosaur that I am. I hate seeing 600 bucks minused from my checking account, it scares me, but my old girl was starting to have some issues and it was time I guess, especially before I lost a lifetime’s worth of shit to a maybe dreaded blue screen..

In my transferring and finding of old files though I came across the one I wrote for my little wonder, Blink, the kitten I brought upstairs in what seems like eons ago. Yes, it can be easily found in the Attic, with a bit of scrolling through the months, but accidentally coming across it in this process made it more worthwhile … and tearful. Who doesn’t need a good memorial day cry right?

It’s also definitely a Frankenberry tell.

In Just A Blink

It Was a Dead Day (Song)

May 23, 2020June 11, 2020by Stephen J Frankenberry12 Comments

A shitty day, a steady rain and a bit of a chill but it at least might wash away some of the other shitty, if there is nothing else to be garnered from it.

When my good friend, Rick, recently sent me some new lyrics to Eleanor Rigby I sung them out for him and for me and put it together just a couple of posts ago. “Sung” is relative of course, but it was fun though tough (the content and the hittin’ of the ahhh’s) and it reminded me of how I hadn’t just sat with a song re-working it for the longest time now. I’ve found this, over the last year and half, to be quite the therapy. Some might consider it to be a waste of time but these have been my editorials. My opinion pieces. As is this one. I took a break from the parodies (though I don’t like calling them that, they’re more) the mood not really seeming to fit a making of parodied point right now, even if it was of the obvious and waaaay too easy.

But taking those lyrics of his and grabbing some time, the world falling away as it always does then when I do, was a reminder and I thought of something new, thought I’d expand on a chorus that has been rattling ’round my noggin for quite some time, “These are the days of stupidity and blunder”. It just seems to fit. Right Mr Simon or apologies?

Plus my window of benefit of the doubt in dire times closed a while ago. You’re on your own again now, orange boy, when it comes to the well deserved derision.

Read along with the lyrics by the way, seems I sing pretty quick.

It was a dead day

A day to start dying

Cavalier severe consequence

Another bold lie

Masquerading as bravado

Self preservation festering

As it always does

These were the days of self-interest and some bluster

It was the usual roll … call

Of made up facts and imaginary figures

All in a spotlight’s glow

A new ways for a sudden realization

Of a daily narcissistic’s call

These are the days of stupidity and blunder

And Baby I’ll lie, I’ll lie

… I’ll lie

It was a cruel truth

As it swept across a nation

That we weren’t prepared

As we wished we could

Have been more in line

With science not a State News

As the blame game took root

Following us around … us around

These are the days of stupidity and blunder

A Lysol dream much better than vaccine

The way the presser was a mini rally e-vent

Until embarrassment called

The way the pundits try to search a new distraction

A shiny catch of wandering eye

These are the days of stupidity and blunder

And baby I’ll lie, I’ll lie

… I’ll lie

It’s extreme now a violence

A base that’s so inclined to such

Encouraged to stray from the middle of the road

Down an angry dark path of ignorance and bullets

Dead innocents in Michigan for what a maskless sake?

These are the days of cowards passing muster

Try and make a momma so proud

A certain sense of purpose of the stupid

Empowered by the man upstairs

These are the days of stupidity and bluster

Momma’s proud somewhere

So proud a follower of the Trump Dumb Down

In his wake blindly with no care oh yeah

The way you find yourself and your own violence

But then you just have to cry

At the thought that drove you in the first place

Here

Oh my

Oh my …

Prince Arthur’s New (stolen) Throne

May 19, 2020August 11, 2020by Stephen J FrankenberryLeave a Comment

(To all my cat friends)

My sister Rebecca and my nephews have cats, 3 of them, like me, and a Razzy Girl and, actually, my brother Nick has a couple as well so we’re just a regular ol’ cat crazy clan (not crazy cat ladies all just yet though). But one of Beck’s gang is a newbie, a kitten, Arthur, and like most kittens he’s funny, fast, a dick, lovable, destructive, a mush, maddening, curious, cocky and a little crazed … I know this because I get the updates with the accompanying pictures.

Anyway, Beck texted me the other day of how, while working from home, she got up from her chair for a mere moment only to have Arthur appear out of nowhere and commandeer it via some sort of cat version of eminent domain. He apparently exhibits, like any cat worth its salt, the instinctual habits of all cats, in this case, grabbing your now warm seat the moment you get up. He probably can also ONLY sit in front of the keyboard or the monitor while you’re trying to work on the PC, or directly in front of your Tab while you’re attempting to watch Netflix, the second you come home he doubtless happily greets you by going to poop, or he can somehow, though tiny that he is relative to his humans, have you sleeping on one sliver of the bed in the morning while he is stretched and gloried out over rest, or he knows the exact moment that you’ve scooped and refreshed the kitty litter to then, like a bottle of fine champagne on a new ship’s bow, christen it.

So, Beck texted me the picture of Arthur in his newly pilfered spot, though how can ya not love such a brazen scoundrel? But the first line of her text “I shuffled my feet and lost my seat” was a nice rhyme I thought, so I filled it out for her, just a fun little ode to her adorable chair thief.

Prince Arthur’s New (stolen) Throne

I shuffled my feet and then gave up my seat

For just a moment I stood as sly fur snatched it good

It’s Prince Arthur by name use or lose be his game

For a comfy found norm where an ass made it warm

So, lose out now you have but great thanks for the grab

It’s been annexed he snores

Go find a new yours

Oh, and … Pthhthppptt!!!

Hittin’ The Ahhh’s (an Eleanor Rigby take)

May 16, 2020June 27, 2020by Stephen J Frankenberry5 Comments

Over a year and half ago I started writing new lyrics and singing them out, in my little studio and then editing in my own little world (don’t ask, it involves cats and quiet, and more quiet after that, probably not your thing), Beatles tunes, for some reason these songs and this band the perfect conduit of my frustrations and angers over the state that we’re in, have been in for far too long, parodies of the great pretender who reminds us of everything we would never want to be, well, at least some of us. The others? I’ll leave that up to them … there are some you just can’t help.

I eventually put together an “album’s” worth of them, The Orange Album, while also penning, “singing” some non-Beatles tunes (this one here, a version of Paul Simon’s “You Can Call Me Al”, is one of my best and most spot on) all in an effort to gain some measure of sanity in these anything but sane times.

Now, I’m no singer. I mean I can hold a tune, know the vocal ups and downs, the right inflections in the right spots but I’m certainly not going to be fronting a band or putting out an actual album any time soon. I do though, find myself enjoying the shit out of making the attempt.

So when a best of friends, Rick Cross, messaged me and another pal some lyrics he had written to “Eleanor Rigby” (I know, the Beatles … whodathunk?), possibly my favorite Beatles tune (internal arguments and fave fab four song fist fights to ensue) and one of the first tunes that I considered parodying I thought, let’s give it another whirl. (I had abandoned the initial thought as I could never hit the “Ahhh’s”)

But now, with the hard part done, the lyrics, courtesy of Rick and his own frustrations and angers mirroring mine, it was just a matter of seeing if I could hit the “Ahhh’s” this time.

I think I might have just nailed ’em.

Cheers Rick,

Well done … the ahhh’s thank you.

Karen’s Been Triggered

Ahhh, look at all the hateful people

Ahhh, look at these ungrateful people

Karen’s been triggered

Pickets outside of a church where a gay wedding’s been

This love is a sin

Waits at her stylist in an angry red face mask that matches her MAGA hat’s tinge

Where to begin?

All the frightened people

Why do they hide their eyes?

All the angry people

While our republic dies

President Donnie

Face slack and ugly and troll-like and ready to sneer

Mindless drones cheer

Look at him preening

Feckless old monster, his mantra is greed, hate and fear

Let’s end his career

All the selfish people

Who teaches them this stuff?

All the stubborn people

How many dead’s enough?

Ahhh, look at all the hateful people

Ahhh, look at these ungrateful people

Karen’s still triggered

Gasping for air on machines in a hospital hall

Why won’t her god call?

President Donnie

Shrugs and ignores digging up 80,000 new graves

It’s money he craves

All the coughing people (Ah, look at all the hateful people)

Was Easter service nice?

All the toxic people (Ah, look at these ungrateful people)

Who’ll make no sacrifice…

Ball & Miss

May 11, 2020July 1, 2020by Stephen J FrankenberryLeave a Comment

(Facebook Memories popped up this picture over the weekend of me and The JG, the son of my ex, Maria, from 11 years ago – I’ll give ya credit Facebook, sometimes you hit the mark)

Me n JG buccos Mets

Wow. 11 years ago. This one almost made me cry from the melancholy with its surprise just now. Gots be careful when stuff like this pops up, or at least have a few tissues on hand. A me and the JG and a picture that just speaks Steve in what was a then new Bucco’s cap. Vanity is certainly not my thing, my 18 dollar clippers from Walgreens and what they do now will attest to that, but even I have to say that I look alright in this one. Young almost, even at the 44 that I was then. And JG? The perfect snap of youth and a so fond time remembered. Those eyes. Plus I’m at a ballpark watching my Buccos with a smile in the sun. Can’t get more Steve than that.

Of all the things that have been put aside during this nightmare I miss baseball the most, miss the daily of having my Pirates on my hip, muted on my Tab while I watch whatever distracts on the tube. Miss my fantasy baseball rosters. Now I know I’m one of the lucky ones, I continue to have a gig and the social distancing has kept me good so far, so I will say that, yes, I understand that this is kind of trivial, that there’s way more important shit to concern ourselves with right now, but I can still be allowed this miss for just a moment can’t I? For just a moment?

JJ and I would have already caught our yearly game(s) as my one series with the Mets was scheduled for just this past week. We would have already grilled a few dogs and brauts on his small grill (horseradish mustard and sauerkraut in tow as always) while sitting behind his car in comfy New York Giant lawn chairs (Giants? Hey, I don’t quibble with comfy). I would have already gauged the distance to the porta johns for relieving myself of some of the nice beers that he always brings along, not the cheap crap I’m accustomed to. I would have high fived or fist bumped with at least one other Bucco fan by now.

I know normal isn’t coming around again any time soon, maybe ever, but a boy can dream right?

(This is a bit about baseball and JJ and I’s trips to the park from a few years ago)

Parrot

May 9, 2020May 10, 2020by Stephen J FrankenberryLeave a Comment

Facebook 05-07-20:

Well the Justice Dept again moves further and further away from the independent investigative power it is intended to be but instead becomes more entrenched as nothing more than just another tool of Trump enforcing his belief that he has the “absolute right” to control it to, for further instance, protect more loyalists while continuing to investigate enemies. It is also more proof that William “The Low” Barr is nothing more than a shill and a hack, a hired partisan gun and legal bodyguard for shielding Trump from the consequences of his actions, protecting his obvious corruption and assisting in the long term goal of revising history #Autocracy style.

Facebook 05-08-20:

So there was a comment on my last post here (quickly deleted for some reason), the one about the glaring obviousness of the Department of Justice no longer being an independent body, intended to be immune from politicization, but now, instead, just the clear personal law of Donald Trump courtesy of William “The Low” Barr, the fraud who has sold out his entire office and damaged its credibility, almost beyond repair, simply to adhere to Trump’s will and assist in some long sought revisionism. The comment said (I saw it on my phone before it was deleted) that though I was a nice guy I had blinders on and, paraphrasing here, laying the blame for the reason of these blinders at the feet of a dishonest and lying press I think was the gist. Who doesn’t love some good parroting huh?

In this era of the #TrumpDumbDown it doesn’t matter what kind of valid case you may present. If it deviates from the State News narrative it will always end up being fake with the press to blame, not the corrupt con man who has told more lies in three plus years than the entire population of most prisons. But that’s just authoritarianism 101, textbook, not any kind of science, rocket or not.

Now I have nothing against parrots, I’m a fan of fur and feather alike, plus actual parrots come from really picturesque, tropical locales I’m envious of and it’s almost a cool parlor game to show off your bird’s mimicking skills, but I know that there is no talking to some other breeds of parrots from far less enviable places, so it’s best not to bother, well, except to bother for a quick moment as you point out such.

No, we’ll just have to let the almost unprecedented actions of The Low Barr, first in the Stone case and now Flynn, speak for themselves and take with a Gibraltar sized grain of salt the arrogant mocking hubris of an explanation like … (the action was taken to) “restore confidence in the system [and show] there is only one standard of justice.” (only one standard … cough … cough … gasp … sorry … breath … only one standard … give me a sec … choking on my beer)

Apparently William, who seems to be a rather buttoned up serious sort, has the ability on occasion to let his guard down, drink the spiked Kool Aid, throw on an orange lampshade and make a funny all while keeping a straight face (well except for mentioning “winning” with a smirk). Nicely done Sir Low, nicely done.

Hey, credit where it’s due right?

(Great piece from the Atlantic on this by the way … thanks for bringing it to my attention Richard Scroggs)

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/05/attack-fundamental-principle-justice/611395/?utm_term=2020-05-08T16%25253A10%25253A34&utm_content=edit-promo&utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=the-atlantic&fbclid=IwAR1fNdNkNPWgYaulgu-ZwktnznJb3lYuu2YmXKF3v5Qp8SJCFXEDefkJL9c

Save Me Alan Parsons

May 2, 2020April 3, 2024by Stephen J Frankenberry5 Comments

First, let me start by saying that I’ve been looking forward to this all week, a just me and the girls. Ok, yes, I say that all the time, at the end of any week, but current circumstance gives the “looking forward to” at the end of this any week and me saying it over and over again an added import as it’s yet another weekend reached to social distance for a full couple of days. No going into work (love ya pared down radio crew but I ain’t missin’ ya), no stoppin’ for gas (BB’s barely quarter tank doesn’t need to travel at the moment), no more curbside treats to myself from the Olive Garden (that Alfredo is a good two meals and the salad is so big it could even be one in itself with the garlic bread sticks and croutons enough to fill it out … that’s enough for a weekend), no grocery shopping necessary right now (a without such going on week # whatever – got girls & Steve essentials enough still).

Bella Cricket Mimi PC

I realize this distancing is already in my wheelhouse, well before the world blew up and got bent, sitting sideways now, has been wheelhouse shit for me for years, even when I wasn’t single, well, that might explain some things … but now it seems a bit more justified.

A friend sent me this meme …

Clint Meme

… yeh, that about covers it. (And no, funny one, he doesn’t look like me. He’s much prettier). No, this is what I looked forward to, just replacing the PBR’s with Busch Lights. Ya might need a bigger side table for the empties though Clint, if you and I are gonna hang.

About when this current nightmare first began a very best of college pals invited me to join a facebook group, I’ll have to look back to remember what it’s theme was, but there was, in my brief glimpse, the topic of Edgar Allen Poe which led me to break out my copy of Tales of Mystery and Imagination (Edgar Allen Poe) and a re-discovering of the Alan Parsons Project. I’ve been here ever since for goin’ on these almost two sequestered months now, even going so far as to order some Alan Parsons releases that I either didn’t have, didn’t know about or needed to replace, ones I know I surely owned at some point, maybe before my fire of 1989 that took so much. It had me spend money, frivolously, (anything other than girls or Steve food is frivolous) something I never do ’cause I just can’t, to the Alan Parsons tune of a hundred bucks. 7 albums. Damn, that’s something I REALLY never do. But …

When I was a kid my mother used to work, part-time, for a catering company on the weekends. She came home from one of her gigs on one of these weekends back then with a gleam, an excitement, a “just can’t wait to show Stephen” glow that I could see as she walked in the door.

She had an album, a poster, possibly a cassette, if I remember correctly and even an 8-track (yeh, I know, an 8 track huh?) of some band she had just worked a listening release party for at a studio in New York City. Boy, I was hooked on her story after hearing band, studio, New York City. Seems this listening party was for some guy named Alan Parsons and his release of “I Robot”, an album from he and his Project. She told me when it came time after the mucketty muck’s cocktail hour, to get to the listening part of the party, that she and her co-workers assumed they were done and were ready to head out. But Alan insisted that all in attendance stay and listen, the “staff” included. Alan called for the lights to be turned down in this studio where the party was held and asked all to just sit and listen in the now dimmed light. All the way through he asked, the full album. Ahhhh the envy Ma.

I’ve recreated that on occasion.

Man she was proud and too cool I’m sure she thought. “My Stephen is gonna love this”. It’s not something that I didn’t already know by the way Ma, you’ve always been too cool, but you were right. Your coolness factor rose quite a few notches with the story, moreso with whatever more details I could gather until you just yelled “bloody hell” at me to stop asking.

Funny, but one of my Mom’s biggest takes from this, other than so impressing this 13 year old with her hanging out in a recording studio with rock stars, was that there was an intricate ice sculpture party centerpiece of the album cover’s robot that, expensive as it surely was, was left when eventual boredom set in among those mucketies to just melt on a NYC sidewalk in front of this studio after the gig was played and done. She couldn’t wrap her head around the such disposable excess. Understood Ma.

But I’ve been in the Alan Parson’s camp ever since, melting money notwithstanding, all the way to the show, so many years later, in Middletown, NY, that she and Nick (my brother) and I caught, and a not her asking if we could go being a question, but a declaration, a flat out “we’re going, I bought the tickets, change plans if you have them”. What a night. Mom punched me in the arm a few times for singing along too loudly (maybe with even another “bloody hell” under her breath)

So now I listen to albums remembered so fondly, “The Turn Of A Friendly Card” and “Eve”, “Pyramid”, “Stereotomy” or those one hundred of dollars albums reminded or new to me, “The Secret” from last year being one of them. I didn’t even know that there was something recent as I haven’t checked in in too long.

I might still have an ear though, even after not being a PD or music director for quite some time (just a production guy now who couldn’t care ya a Billie Eilish from a Billy Joel) but it took only a couple of listens through to pick out one tune in particular, “As Lights Fall”, only to discover this weekend that there was a video shot for it. So maybe I can still find a single.

Man, is there anything better than realizing that you’re not just remembering time past, simply replaying and maybe getting a bit melancholy but knowing that it’s still here, your past still alive, still workin’ it and hopin’ now for more.

So I woke my old tuner and my old 5 disc changer from a too long sleep, figured the out of phase sound that had had me turn them off a while ago, crystal now, put in some old and some of this new and I just sat, just sat drowning out the crazy (with a little extra volume, sorry Celie) of these anxiety ridden days and this fucked up new normal.

Save me Alan Parsons. Get me through another weekend, another couple of weekends, maybe more weekends than I’ll be able to count. Get me through this awful patch.

I’ll tell Ma you said Hi by the way.