Month: July 2020

Just wanted to re-post this “EP” of sorts, tunes and lyrics.

Me and Covid Down By The Schoolyard

(to the tune of “Me And Julio Down By The Schoolyard”)

 

Check Check

Hello?

Is this thing on?

Can ya hear me in the back?

 

Trumpy the Tinpot rolled in his head

Reasons for his orange misfortune

He was convinced it was a plot at sabotage

And he silenced all investigation

 

It’s just not fair

My me up in the air

I whine it’s just not fair

Of what else do I care

 

Trumpy looked round scored blame to be found

Shafting all engaged organizations

Telling smart to take a hike, stupid’s got this round

You can trust of our best intentions

 

Well we’re on our way

To worst response we just say ‘fake’

We’re on our way

Taking blind time

Hoping it goes away

Goodbye science, we’re King of Corona

 

Seein’ Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

Seein’ Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

 

(Break …)

 

Wahhh-Ooooh

 

If we send ‘em back to school

Everything would sure be cool

Pretty up re-election chances

Kennedy a mental not (knot)

Played tough and took a shot

At teachers he can kiss the ass of

 

Well we’re on our way

To worst response we just say ‘fake’

We’re on our way

Taking blind time

Hoping it goes away

Goodbye science, we’re King of Corona

 

Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

Seein’ Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

Seein Me and Covid

Down in the graveyard

 

Hey?

Did you hear me in the back alright?

Hello?

You suck

Thank you

You’re welcome

 

Check Check

Hello?…..

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

You Can Call me King

(to the tune of “You Can Call Me Al”)

 

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

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

Karen’s Been Triggered (lyrics by Rick Cross)

(to the tune of “Eleanor Rigby” and obviously that graves number was a then when this was first done. The sadness has risen)

 

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…

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

It Was A Dead Day

(to the tune of “The Boy In The Bubble”)

 

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 …

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

These Are Trump Days

(to the tune of “Those Were The Days” … for George)

 

Once upon a time there was a nation

A proud one come about but fraught with pain

Of dealing with an oh so shameful histr’y

A one that doesn’t seem to want to change

 

These are Trump days my friend

We pray there’ll be an end

As we dance now beneath jackbooted feet

We try to have our say

But are tear gassed away

These are Trump days yes sadly they’re trump days

 

La La La La La La La

Won’t you get off my neck

Oh momma please I need ya momma please

 

And now the matter’s gotten so much bleaker

Not better as you’d hope histr’y would learn

And presidents who should be our uniters

Instead opt to take messianic turns

 

These are Trump days my friend

Please God help make them end

I cannot breathe my eyes they want to bleed

We tried to have our say

For light to lead the way

But it’s Trump days, we’re lost amid Trump days

 

La La La La La La La

Won’t you get off my neck

Oh momma please I need ya momma please

 

He stood in the Rose garden claimed alliance

With pro-testers on a peaceful go

But then he strapped on his small orange jackboots

went for a walk to turn this into show

 

These are Trump days my friend

Please God ya have to send

An angel’s mercy on our hapless lot

Who just want things to change but cannot in this age

These are Trump days, he won’t allow the ways

 

La La La La La La La

Won’t you get off my neck

Oh momma please I need ya momma please

 

La La La La La La La

Please just get off his neck

His momma wants to see her son again

 

There comes a day where me must be deciders

Of fate that’s dark continued going back

Or a one that tries to move us forward

Something that is more than just attack

 

These … are … Trump … days my friend

Heavens please help us mend

Help us push back on tyrants on the roam

To help us save the weak

Knees under cannot speak

These are Trump days, the devil’s in Trump days

 

La La La La La La La

Won’t you get off my neck

Oh momma please I need ya momma please

 

La La La La La La La

Please just get off his neck

These Momma’s want to see their sons again

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

Right A Vote

(to the tune of “Kodachrome”)

 

 

When I think back on the elections when I was younger

They were fair or at least as fair could be

But Trump days came and changed things

And not changed for the better now

Justifying straight cheating as a means

 

Voting righ-igh-ights

We’ve got a way to exercise ‘em

Gives us a fighting chance

Makes you think and hope along for a brighter day, oh yeh

I got this right that’s still mine

Hasn’t yet been ta-ken away

But we gotta be protective when comes the day

 

But the games are afoot and have been for a while now

Whining fraud means they’ve already begun

We’ve heard the threats of magic powers, military presence

suppression it will come in a host of forms

 

Voting righ-igh-ights

We’ve got a way to exercise ‘em

Gives us a fighting chance

Makes you think and hope along for a brighter day, oh yeh

I got this right that’s still mine

Hasn’t yet been ta-ken away

But we gotta be protected when comes the day

 

Trump he wants to scare this voting right away

Given chance he’ll do anything for a trump day-ay

Donnie’s gonna su-press this voting right away

 

But Donnie can’t stop these voting rights

Though try he will with all his might

Mail yours in to push the right aw-ay-ay-ay

 

He’ll try and frighten you sit tight

To stay at home for fear of fight

But Donnie can’t take these voting rights away

 

To the Right cheating’s a normal day

It’s how they’ve always made their hay

It seems they don’t know any other way-ay-ay

 

But Donnie can’t shake our voting rights

He’ll whine and cry all day and night

But Trump can’t take your voting right away-ay-ay

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

Gettin’ Late For Democracy

(to the tune of “Late In The Evening”)

 

 

The thing we got’s remember

As we lie scared in our beds

Is that there are things that we just have to do

 

Lethal orange self interest

That is ruling a corrupted roost

That doesn’t really care for a me or you-ou

 

It’s getting’ late for Democracy

Unless we find a way stay true-ue

 

We find ourselves at a crossroads now

Where truth is only framed a load

Of some angry liberal lying shit

 

We have incompetent’s at every spot

Who are really nothing more than sharks

Throwing chum for self as they try to clear the pool

 

It’s gettin’ late for democracy

Unless we really hit the mark

 

It is now we have to hit this mark

To walk in a less contentious park

But one where we are still allowed to breathe

 

It highlights a propagandist blight

An affront to everything that’s right

While pointing out the obvious of lies

 

It’s gettin’ late for democracy

Unless we can get this right

 

(break)

 

Need to fight William Low Barr

Who’s so corrupted rule of law

And thinks Prez is that one and only rule

 

He seems to feel there is no law

That Prez isn’t always above

To the detriment of a me and you

 

It’s getting’ late for Democracy

And that is ALLLL a me and you

 

(break)

 

Wanna set the record straight

Dismiss the talk of great

That isn’t what this is all about

Cause it’s obvious that ain’t the case now

 

Cries of fake a wheelhouse take

Of news that doesn’t rate

 

It doesn’t fit the narrative of state

Well the day started with an intended stop at Price Chopper on my way in to the station. Said in the head intention? Some Polars (seltzers) and maybe a prepared thingy for my lunch … oh, and mayonnaise, Hellman’s to be specific (I can do with “house” brands, generics, on most things but Hellman’s and also Mountain Dew are not included, though the Mountain Dew knock-off names can be entertaining). Mayonnaise is a central Frankenberry life component, a building block of existence, an added DNA strand that as long as my blood tests keep pointing positive on all the shit that mayonnaise is bad for I’m good. So Hellman’s it must be. But those three things were my intent anyway.

91 fucking dollars later? Sigh. I know, “that’s a shitload of Polars and enough mayonnaise to fill your post Armageddon bunker for two Armageddons Frankenberry”. Seems so huh? But no, just looking up at those aisle description signs while walking behind my shopping cart reminded me of things I needed beyond this simple of intentions.

Oh, the pet aisle – Stop (the girl’s stuff … pate and litter)

Oh, frozen foods, ice cream – Stop

Oh, the beer cooler – Stop (for later by the way … no day drinking … not just yet)

Oh, (while in the condiment aisle) horseradish mustard, and a large one, a lesser DNA strand just a bit more spicy and a try of a new hot sauce with a funky name  – Stop

Oh, the meats department – Stop (freezer at home almost empty, have your own fridge in your studio for the day’s keep)

Oh, the maneuvering around that same woman who seems to be following you like in some sort of espionage flick where she’s really an operative sent to monitor your actions, slyly, with one eye lightly raised from behind her mask and her limp and cane in her cart – Stop (notice you’re in the candy aisle – shiny chocolate).

Oh, the paper products – Stop. Grab some butt extra.

Anyway, my intended low couple of dollars spend turned into an almost full blown grocery shop, though at least I’m a single dude, so it’s never really as involved as for a whole family.

And I placed a tracker on that woman’s car to see where she went after surveilling me. She played the old lady front well, with that limp and cane and everything. Quite convincing.

But when I finally got to work and got my Friday things down I went to check the mail downstairs in the lobby. In my continuing obsession with the Alan Parson’s Project and all things related, 5 months of nothing but, my Covid rescue, ordering a good number of replacements for albums lost or a few I didn’t have, I had ordered a copy of “Keats”. This was a one off back in 1984 of the core Alan Parsons band plus a couple of other contributors to the project including Colin Bluntstone, the lead singer of the Zombies. The remembering of this obscure record had come to me out of the blue but it was obvious when it did enter the noggin again, being part of the cannon of a band I’ve been so fondly recalling. I just can’t believe it took me so long on this remembering plus, now, after all these years and my light attention payed to it then it would be brand new to me. It was there in the station mailbox. Yay. Happy dance (don’t look, it’s a bit embarrassing) It was an album that I was excited about all those years ago, bought it and listened but, for some reason, didn’t really hit me, it was more a just have to have it to keep to the library of fandom.

My lord, listening to it on my way home tonight though just transported me. It is SOOO eighties. We didn’t know it then because were living it but listening to it now, so many years later, it had me driving home inside the soundtrack of a movie with a maybe beautiful come to life mannequin or science creation, a cool rocking flights of fighter jets, an irreverent real genius, a something with Jon Cryer or John Cusack, a John Hughes production possibly, a brat pack, while I managed (cursed) traffic hoping only to get to the end of another week and a re-listen from the comfort of home.

The girls aren’t impressed, as they’re cats. Nothing really impresses cats. Other than those stretch squeak noises they make they’re pretty tuneless. Well there are the “meows” but that is more just a cat talking thing. They very rarely chime in on my music choices, though that one time where Bella raised a cat eye and ear at my cranking, knowing the house was empty, of the Chameleons UK “In Shreds” is a reminder that they notice.

What does all this post mean in the long run? Absolutely nothing but everything when it comes to a you.

I’d been taken back to a time so well recalled and so dearly missed, exactly the reason that I ordered this “one off” from the Alan Parsons gang in the first place that, as I listen to it now, is pretty freakin’ good and is SO much of that time that is possibly my best of days (though time has improved my writing, so at least, in that regard, these current are also pretty good days).

A good friend of mine, not a “friends of mine or people say”, something we hear all too often these days as unconfirmed confirmation of actions, but an ACTUAL friend of mine, one who I can offer proof of, said he’d like to just start writing a blog post or two, find a spot outside of his well worked work where he writes important stuff about space and what’s beyond us. Well, hit it my friend. You’ve already got a leg up the rest when it comes to the writing ability.

I’ve just posted some words about nothing but about everything. You can do the same. What more do we want than to write about nothing and everything even if it’s just a “you” thing?

I took a break, a pause from this writing last night, leaving this to a new eye and ear for this morning and hit play just now again on this Keats album. It’s still a transporting kinda thing. I’m still in that 80’s soundtrack, replete with the requisite 80’s sax and one that always fades you into the next scene.

I’m glad for the break as it’s important to take a step back and look at things anew plus I actually got what some may say amounts to some sleep. Not a skill of mine, this sleep thing by the way, but I got a little.

The girls girl furry and silently stretch small noise, old tunes transport to a best of times and … well just “and”…

Another friend of mine, one from those 80’s days, posted just yesterday of losing a tab of buttons (didn’t know they were a “tab”) buying another only to discover the first tab in the most obvious of places, in the pants that needed the new button. He noted that his mom had instilled in him and his sister a certain self reliance, things to keep you moving forward, things you might need like knowing laundry and a balanced checkbook, simple cooking habits and buttons it seems. No Steve, tuna sandwiches don’t qualify as “cooking” by the way but still mom was on it. The dude actually sewed his own button with one from the new tab and even talked of it so nonchalantly, like it was a normal thing, cocky bastard. Besides being my new hero he reminded me of that best of times when he and I were current and more immediate, of when lessons from Ma were of the utmost and when tunes were important. I will admit tunes have faded for me over the last number of years, other than my old go to’s. But sometimes they’re found again, that tab of buttons in the most obvious of spots, right there in the pocket of those pants, right there in the pocket of your head. Sometimes you find them. Ya just gotta search.

(Not that anyone asked for it but an update on my new PC that, in my last post, I thought had given up the ghost rather abruptly).

In an English accent from atop a medieval yet modern cart heaped with other assorted dead computers … “I’m not dead yet”

Thank you Vivek at Dell from across a couple of ocean’s for being so helpful and so patient with my “ummmm?”‘s and “uhhhhh?”‘s (If I had been a Knight of Camelot I would have surely been titled Stephen The Dim and probably would have gotten a slow bleed couple of nicks on my shoulders at the Knighting ceremony from moving at just the wrong moment under the tapping sword). Seems maybe, in his estimation, a static shock of some type might have just knocked it out temporarily, or some sort of surge I just didn’t notice. Now I was on the phone for a total of 2 hours and 45 minutes (most of that on hold – though WHUD’s Andy Bale, noting my expertise at such, called me an “on hold camel” so I was ok) but with an hour of that talking to Vivek in India. Not only did he check my PC’s vitals remotely, he also patiently sat with me while he insisted on updating any system or driver that could be updated in order to assure my PC was at as peak a peak as it was going to currently be.

Was it worth all that time? Yes, because, though it’s only been just short of three months, I have a lot of new stuff on this bad boy and it was a big expense for me as well. And there’s no time lost now in the mailing and waiting for the return which, these days, is even longer.

But it was also worth it because in that time I unexpectedly got to know some about a complete stranger thousands of miles away who wasn’t just helpful, but wanted to be so. Who was simply a nice and thoughtful guy. Could use more of those. Were there some initial difficulties in understanding him through the accent and the slightly differing English? Yes, but funny, kinda how you eventually forget the subtitles in something foreign you may be watching, these difficulties soon dissipated.

I got to know a little about his family while we waited out the updates, the city he lived in, how he’s working from home like so many of us, how he goes out as little as possible thinking of his wife and children but, when necessary, searches for the lowest of volume times to shop, like so many of us, we talked of sacred cows and how they roam the streets and how, once you get outside of busy urbans, every family has one as part of it’s household. What are the odds that when I get a tech support guy in India who logs into my PC remotely that the first thing he sees is this picture which is my desktop wallpaper (a one of some of the gang here at the ‘stead’) and would inspire that last bit of cow centered conversation? I said ummmm “some American cows have a sense of humor?”

We talked of the shared fear of the time we live in and how we worry for our families and ourselves. Equal fears from opposite sides of the world and added fears for some of the extreme responses, most of them stateside here, a lot just plain stupid, but some proven to be dangerous and deadly, that have come from it. I told him the silly sounding history of my name, at least from when I was 7 and a wimpy easily frightened pink Frankenstein cartoon character appeared on a cereal box. Strawberry flavored. He got a good laugh out of that.

Updates updated and we talked.

Eventually everything was set and, at least for now, things seem to be working again which is a huge relief. But, if I’m going to spend all that time on the phone to get to this “eventually everything was set” and come to this feeling of relief at least a great portion of it was time well spent doing a bit of expanding of my world, even amid fear, though maybe, just maybe, the fear was lessened a bit.

Thanks for the assist but, more importantly, nice to meet ya Vivek.

Well it seems my new PC has bit the dust, my crash cart a plug and an unplug while saying “Stat!” in my head. A few seconds of life then nothing. Now the possible nightmare of customer service begins, it is kind of a roll of the dice, though I have talked with Dell before and they’re one of the good ones … well after an interminable hold, though Andy Bale, the afternoon guy from WHUD here, recently called me the ‘Camel of hold’, which is perfect so I’ll be Ok if so. Here’s to hoping being one of the good ones is the same again, well maybe minus some of that interminable hold. Even Camels of such can get frustrated, impatient and thirsty.

Needless to say I’m disappointed. I’ve been so happy over the last few months with this expense that I can’t afford, lot’s of grilled cheese and tuna sandwiches have followed, butter or a can opener (always at least have some tomato for the fancying). Ok, that’s being overly dramatic. I just really like grilled cheese and tuna sandwiches with tomato an added bonus for either but still, I think you get the point. It was a cost, but I do have a backup … a backup PC (the old girl) thus these words.

I’ve always felt the need for backups. Gotta have backups. Got a shitload of Pirates hats at the ready, in BB, my studio, on my kitchen counter, always an extra t-shirt on the back of that chair at work, especially on sweaty days, that extra small hand sanitizer now just in case, that extra pair of underwear bundled in that t-shirt also for the sweaty, even backup cats. There’s always been the new guard to back up the current. Shoes to Benny, Bella to Shoes, Grayson then Blink to Bella (though those two, who sit on top of my fridge now, their fave spot, not much for conversation but at least a nice remembered “hello” and a stretched pat at my head, didn’t work out as I had planned … Bella and I miss you both). But shit, I never thought I’d have to break out the “backup PC” so early, especially with my excitement of taking the leap to something new. Hell, I never even imagined that I would have the two, but I still haven’t transferred all of my stuff, a boatload of documents and pictures documenting and recalling of days. But my old girl is still here.

Yes, I have felt downright decadent looking at two monitors on my PC desk and the two towers that come with them over the last few months. Even Mimi the Quirky has looked want to question the extravagance of this set up as she circles to set up shop on the keyboard or mouse I’m not using.

But this disappointment stems from, after years of little quirks and misfires that I knew would need be addressed the hope that when that leap to something new was made that it would actually work. And I had really started to organize my stuff while writing more than I ever have. Now whether any of it is any good is all to the beholder, bereader but it has made me happy, something in short supply these days.

I was in the midst of editing down another sung editorial when my newbie decided to just … ummm … to just not. But, as backups will attest, they are backups for a reason. I was able to rebuild this tune for instance, albeit from scratch, but still it wasn’t completely lost.

 

Me and Covid Down By The Schoolyard

Check Check

Hello?

Is this thing on?

Can ya hear me in the back?

 

Trumpy the Tinpot rolled in his head

Reasons for his orange misfortune

He was convinced it was a plot at sabotage

And he silenced all investigation

 

It’s just not fair

My me up in the air

I whine it’s just not fair

Of what else do I care

 

Trumpy looked round scored blame to be found

Shafting all engaged organizations

Telling smart to take a hike, stupid’s got this round

You can trust of our best intentions

 

Well we’re on our way

To worst response we just say ‘fake’

We’re on our way

Taking blind time

Hoping it goes away

Goodbye science, we’re King of Corona

 

Seein’ Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

Seein’ Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

 

(Break …)

 

Wahhh-Ooooh

 

If we send ‘em back to school

Everything would sure be cool

Pretty up re-election chances

Kennedy a mental not (knot)

Played tough and took a shot

At teachers he can kiss the ass of

 

Well we’re on our way

To worst response we just say ‘fake’

We’re on our way

Taking blind time

Hoping it goes away

Goodbye science, we’re King of Corona

 

Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

Seein’ Me and Covid

Down by the schoolyard

Seein Me and Covid

Down in the graveyard

 

Hey?

Did you hear me in the back alright?

Hello?

You suck

Thank you

You’re welcome

 

Check Check

Hello?…..

 

All I can hope for is that the rest of what I have worked on these last covid months (I’ve been quite prolific) isn’t lost when I get someone on the phone and try and explain.

Well, this has not been the best of weeks so the finally sit on a Friday evening with the girls now couldn’t have come fast enough, which it didn’t by the way. It was a slow fucking molasses crawl.

It started (after my four day weekend short mini stay-as-always-cation where I truly enjoyed myself and had some fun, some of it even Ok, in the Attic) when I woke to the never ending realization on Tuesday that there is always a Yang to the Yin. Shit balances. A friend and colleague had been let go at work on that extra Monday that I took off throwing numerous hats and angers into the air. An immediate anger when one of the good ones, a one in this case of 20 years spent, is dismissed. You’re missed Jay.

Then on Wednesday BB decided that that last left hand turn before the station I was making through a traffic light was a little more than he was in the mood for so he almost completely locked up the steering wheel when he stalled hard. Thought for a second I was going into someone’s front yard. It was all I could do to continue that turn then drag and cajole him after a re-start to the station parking lot.

Next up? The fretting. Though I’m lucky and thankful that I still have a gig I’m one of the too many in this country who don’t have enough to cover the unexpected’s that may arise, enough to cover an unforeseen emergency. The loss of a vehicle, maybe even a temporary one, as hopefully is my case, is one that surely qualifies.

So, I called “my guy” Lou. Though I’ve only been to him and his shop once at the recommendation of a really good friend he was good to me then and, even though it was only that one time, I trust him. He’s become that “Yeh, I got a guy”.

BB-less now though, I had no way of getting home, or back to work the next morning. Thank you Randy, thank you Celie. I’d like to think, no, at least I know, that as long as I’m capable, I would do the same to help in someone else’s unfortunate circumstance.

But as I went through Thursday, continuing the fretting as to how I was going to get home THIS night and THAT back the next morning I realized I had to rent a car. I wasn’t going to ask Randy to drive almost an hour and half or Celie the same out of their way again, not if I could help it. Which I could.

I started making some phone calls. Local to the station Enterprise car rentals, two of them, discovering that, holy shit, car rentals are freakin’ expensive!! Like almost 60 bucks a day. This came as a bit of shock but I guess I wouldn’t really know. The last time I needed any kind of car rental was after a small accident I had five years ago, and the insurance covered most of that. But still.

Neither Enterprise worked though. One had no cars at all and the other had me second in line for the “possibility” of one. Why car rentals are in such demand right now I couldn’t tell ya but I had to have something, “possibility” just wasn’t going to cut it, and we were approaching the end of the day.

So, it was time to improvise, especially as I was surely going to need whatever it was through the weekend.

U-Haul.

Though they charge by the mile they are only 20 bucks a day and with my total daily work miles (about 50) coming to around 35 bucks at 70 cents a mile it worked out to the same as a car rental and, after calling the closest of U-Haul’s? I was GUARANTEED a ride, as opposed to the Enterprises. A U-Haul Cargo Van (the big brother to my BB, a Scion XB, that seems a bit of a little brother van).  So it was a family thing.

Plus, the closest of U-Haul’s is located inside the Key Food Grocery Store on Main Street in downtown Beacon. Need to rent a truck AND grab some cold cuts, deodorant, cat food and maybe some extra toilet paper? This is the U-Haul for you (I mean, shit, I WAS already there and there’s plenty of fucking room in the back for the bags right? And even the bodies in a much more sinister completely different story).

But needing it through the weekend? With being as “social” as I am and with the most driving I ever do on the weekends amounting to none (the quick run to the convenience store down the hill for one of those Mickey chocolate covered ice creams I’ve become a fan of doesn’t count) I just saved the 35 bucks of my daily back and forth to work, twice. It truly becomes a 20 dollar rental if you ain’t goin’ nowhere.

You just have to deal with, in this case, a U-Haul Cargo Van impersonating a comfy rental sedan and you’re all good. It’s just a ride, a bit more bumpy, but it’s just a ride … you are taller though. I find that a cool thing.

Now in the future, if a situation like this does arise, hopefully not, but if one does, maybe providence will even provide some folks who just happen to be needing help in a move. You could actually MAKE a few bucks on the deal. HeHeHe, no, that would never be the case of course but you could at least score some “after move” free pizza.

Celie told me yesterday that Senta might be coming to the end of the road which is so heartbreaking. She is the introspective one of the two big, and I mean big, wolf size big, German Shepard girls who have been such a constant for me ever since I moved in here going on three years now. My first greets on opening a BB door.

Eve (her sister) has always been the one you don’t want to fool with, the one you want to make sure doesn’t get overly annoyed by the traffic of the house but also the one who wants only to slam my hip for ear rubs, insistently, when I come home. Bruce was the same way, always front and center, always slamming my legs and feet (adjusting for size) for equal ear rubs and another always first greet. He was the Alpha cat, a one who I neglected to write words for at his passing a little while ago though. I’m so sorry for that Bruce. I just couldn’t. But any cat who can keep a large set of dogs at bay in a mud room simply by just sitting in the doorway was a REAL cat in my book. And one with a Billy Idol sneer. Miss ya Bruce. It was good look by the way.

Senta though is just the one that wants only a hello before heading off to do Senta things. She’s the one that when I come to feeding the gang on occasion, on some mornings, that you have to search for, usually having already grabbed a comfy spot on the front lawn in the sun, a bowl held the only reason to get her to move. I’m surely going to be a coward again when it comes to the goodbyes, as I was with Wynne. Though I’ve always been the one that was there in the past for my dearly missed friends, Benny and Shana girl, Shoes and Grayson, Blink, I grow a little more weary now of the moment. Kind hearts like theirs and Senta’s are getting harder to think of letting go of. Especially now. When finding such can be so difficult.

There’s been loss since I moved in here, Blue (Oh, big Blue) the one, who if you got approval from you were golden and Chubs and those little prairie dog stand ups and Dolly who always had me singin’ a Broadway tune in my head whenever I would say “hello”, Bunny with the bent ear, Bruce. But there is also life. A living barking, squawking, meowing even silent meowing chaos that is glorious in it’s annoying noise, a noise that pricks Bella’s ear and mine upstairs but a one I don’t know if I could live without now.

I hope there is more time to just lay on the front lawn in the sun Senta. At least some.

I’m not a huge fan of this one (maybe it’s the ending I don’t like, the ‘added’ lyrics after the actual song would normally be done) and, as I said in my last post, I was just gonna dismiss it, dismiss it as simply time spent trying. All about the trying right? But I just can’t though. Not gonna dismiss words well worked, plus I did get a thumbs up on them from my pal Rick after sending him a draft. I trust him … and I really kick it out on the third chorus. Hey, can’t just let kickin’ it out on the third chorus go for naught now can ya? HeHeHe.

(to the tune of “Late In The Evening”)

 

Gettin’ Late For Democracy

The thing we got’s remember

As we lie scared in our beds

Is that there are things that we just have to do

 

Lethal orange self interest

That is ruling a corrupted roost

That doesn’t really care for a me or you-ou

 

It’s getting’ late for Democracy

Unless we find a way stay true-ue

 

We find ourselves at a crossroads now

Where truth is only framed a load

Of some angry liberal lying shit

 

We have incompetent’s at every spot

Who are really nothing more than sharks

Throwing chum for self as they try to clear the pool

 

It’s gettin’ late for democracy

Unless we really hit the mark

 

It is now we have to hit this mark

To walk in a less contentious park

But one where we are still allowed to breathe

 

It highlights a propagandist blight

An affront to everything that’s right

While pointing out the obvious of lies

 

It’s gettin’ late for democracy

Unless we can get this right

 

(break)

 

Need to fight William Low Barr

Who’s so corrupted rule of law

And thinks Prez is that one and only rule

 

He seems to feel there is no law

That Prez isn’t always above

To the detriment of a me and you

 

It’s getting’ late for Democracy

And that is ALLLL a me and you

 

(break)

 

Wanna set the record straight

Dismiss the talk of great

That isn’t what this is all about

Cause it’s obvious that ain’t the case now

 

Cries of fake a wheelhouse take

Of news that doesn’t rate

 

It doesn’t fit the narrative of state

I text myself a lot. No, not in a pathetically sad way to just see a little notification number and appear I have friends thank you … it’s just a sort of phone post-it note, an electronic little piece of sticky yellow paper ”stuck” to my phone reminding me of a thought I woke up to in the middle of the night. If it were truly pathetic I would be texting Bella and she would be responding on her little paw ready cat phone. No, just a me and reminders.

For the most part whatever it was that struck me in the midst of my not quite sleep makes sense when I look back at it in the morning. But sometimes it’s a game to figure out just what the hell I was thinking of later. Wake up, pee, then pee again (I hate that part of getting old by the way, I always have to pee twice no matter how much it seems I’ve squeezed) leave a sticky note, a sometimes cryptic one, and then go back to bed.

I’ve recently texted myself about my Dad and some words to use in the post I wrote to/of him on Father’s Day,  but also about my Uncle Frank, who was such a good friend of my Dad’s. I don’t think I can recall anyone who would have rivaled that for him. Dad wasn’t a “best of friends” kind of guy, he was just an all us, his family, but Uncle Frank would have fit that bill if so. He was a large and daunting figure, a one you certainly didn’t want to cross, but a one who had the softest of hearts within that daunt, a one who, who for some reason, had a spot for me. That drive to Florida after things had gone so far south in my life that there was no longer a lowest enough border to reach, where it was just me and him after his offer to be my co-pilot was accepted for a trip to Florida from New York to explore something new, hang with my cousin Connie, after my marriage and job were done, and eventually because of it find a new gig in the sun. Can’t ask for more than a new gig in the sun for a change now can ya? His reason for being so offering was just “planned to fish with Uncle Don so …”. I knew the excuse Uncle Frank. Thank you. And a 24 hour drive will give you plenty of time for talk … and release. He let me do most of it, actually all of it. He let me cry with no judgment and as long as I could keep driving through tears. Kinda wish now though, that the talk was a bit more equal. I would love to have heard some of the Uncle Frank story.

Sorry all you Docs and therapists and self-helpers, life coaches and the rest who revel acclaim in vague truisims and fancy quotes and “profound” lines that really are nothing more than just that. Vague and generic, mostly empty, but sounding meaningful type things, a set of words put together in just the right way. You’ve just never had a chance to take a long ride with Uncle Frank and his largeness of being, of thought and heart and, most importantly, ear.

I’ve texted myself reminders of things, worried in the dead of night that I would forget, often simple ones, but ones that hang over my head and need the reminding. I text myself now as a stand in for years of not writing on a daily basis, as, like anything else, practice can indeed make perfect, almost, of a trying to catch up as best I can now, now finally able to see the worth of such stuff not thinking in my arrogance that words will just come when I decide to sit down and have a conversation with them.

I’ve texted to myself one of my most recent of late night thoughts “So let me introduce myself, and mind you I’m just some guy, that one you knew in college, the one you grabbed a beer with but also that one that might just disappear and head home. A pillow and a pillow’s thoughts so much better than you. Though I loved the company, all I ever wanted to do was just to be done, good times behind, and sure, maybe a few more to come tomorrow or the next day but they couldn’t last too long as I’ve always had a clock ticking. I still look at an actual clock for the time by the way, not just the front of my phone, but a one on my wall above the computer usually with a flashlight in my rollovers. Flashlights and clocks, second clicks and light”.

I really don’t recall writing this though I do recall the sitting up, adjusting my pillow behind my back for a moment, checking for a Cricket the Blind just to my left, holding on to her accidental human (she’s good company within her many annoyances), seeing that Mimi the Quirky had her pillow next to my head, one of the new ones I bought that I haven’t used, just surrendered, and looking over the way at My Bella in her window seat. My current ears.

But looking at that text to myself now confirms a bit of what I’ve always known.

I’ll surely text myself over the next couple of days. When I discovered that I had Friday the third off with the 4^th on a Saturday I decided to grab Monday too, a sort of quiet birthday present to myself (it was the 1st). There will be things that pop in the head, probably at weird hours as I’m sure to completely fuck up my sleep.

I’ll surely text myself thoughts of how nice this slow down is and maybe wishes that I had the ability to make it last.

There will seem time, but clocks on a wall. Tick.

Last wake up and text to myself.

“That tick ticks incessantly enough while you’re trying to sleep that you notice it. Fucker never stops. Tick tick tick”

Just trying to hold off the tick for a moment.

Hey, Uncle Frank? Wanna go for a drive? I could use an ear.