Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heartfelt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune and other songs, sometimes I even get a little bit poetic or short story-etic or something like that. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Raspberry (Razzy), Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything … 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs … damned humans.
The idea here, from Grace, was to make a try at at a different poetry form, Trolaan.
As per Grace’s prompt:
Trolaan, created by Valerie Peterson Brown, is a poem consisting of 4 quatrains. Each quatrain begins with the same letter. The rhyme scheme is abab for each quatrain.
Starting with the second stanza you use the second letter of the first line of the first stanza to write the second, each line beginning with that letter.
On the third stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the second stanza and write the third each line beginning with that letter.
On the fourth stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the third stanza and write the fourth each line beginning with that letter.
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So, I thought back here to my undergraduate days when I, and my friends, envisioned ourselves as writers, poets.
.
When We (I) Were Writers
We (I) were words at seeming will
Wrought with grand poetic intent
With a hubris of great writers of skill
Willing envied youth to supplement
.
Every piece was poring/pouring soul
Even knowing in my heart to avoid such a thing
Easy it was claim “soul” glorying to all my one unfounded old
Entreating “hearts” then even made me worse for sing
.
Vanity of but soul would make readers quake at my depth
Vowing to pen classics worthy of masters
Vacating a notion of things just, just things to be said
Venturing not into words that mattered
.
And I came about but in slow, still, revelation
Amid not the soul nor heart’s cliche but the every day
Aweing how sudden old wrought dramatic word made way for just, just simple observation
And that that, that simplest of thought, just might be the true soul say
Well, my PTO has finally rolled over (Paid Time Off by the way, not Paul Tried Origami or Patty’s Trusted Oncologist (hey that’s important) or Palantir’s Takeover Onesies and an owned from your get go cute baby t-shirt (which are all understandable mistakes … I’m with ya) … I’m only pointing/spelling out these possibilities as when as when I was first introduced to the acronym I worried that I was going to have to go to meetings in the town hall basement community room with Parents and Teachers and bad coffee and day old donuts and fold chairs into that long contraption that collects chairs at the end after listening to Madge drone on and on about whatever Madge drones on and on about.
I mean, I feel bad for the loss of Mr Sniffems Smarty Pants, who was like 98 in human years and walked with 3 canes (don’t ask), but somebody really needs to start a fund to get her another cat, and it’s even tacked on three extra days now as I have hit the ten year mark at the stations (Oh, you shouldn’t have, that was waaaaaay too kind and they were really nice, even the “Happy New Year!” “It’s Her Birthday!” and “You Finally Graduated Now Go Get A Job And Get The Hell Out Of The House I Have Plans For Your Room” ones you got in a bundled discount and I didn’t even know they had “So Sorry For Your Loss” balloons as well, but it’s the thought right?) so I figgr’d to add Tuesday to this already extended weekend and take my first renewed day.
A bit of a vacay if you will or staycay as I’ve heard it phrased by those in the witty cool know (and which is more my old man speed anyway) as I don’t go out, I don’t travel or have any need to, I don’t go to events, I’d even avoid my own funeral if I could get out of it, though that’s a question of the Devil, and a one that would probably be my last anti-social hurrah, I have even conditioned my friends to not trying to bother to ask their “Hey, what are you doing this weekend” questions and before I belabor this some more and repeat myself from an old post that explains it (it is here below) that explains more in full of how I don’t do, or care to, or give a shit to … plus it also comes with a really fun re-play of my version of the Oompa Loompa song by the way, if you haven’t already heard it, so don’t just dismiss me out of hand.
I have though noticed, over the last few years, that if use up my PTO time too early, like by a couple of months, as I always do, I spend those last couple of months being overly tired, on edge and noticeably scatterbrained.
“Well how about you dole them out with more of a plan then, so you don’t waste them too early”
‘Yeah, fuck you Captain Obvious, but you’re right”
“I told you”
Note: Never admit ANYTHING to Captain Obvious and give him a win. He’s a nice fella an all, well meaning surely, but he can be a bit of a dick in his judgements and condescension so that all you’re gonna wanna do is slap him upside the head or knee cap him if you know the right people but that shit takes time, so many layers there, including paying off your uncle’s debts (he’s always loved the ponies, they’ve just never loved him back) plus, violence is never the answer, at least not on an extra Tuesday.
Wednesday? Well, that’s up in the air.
This one extra day though? A Tuesday? More than welcome.
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April 2, 2024
So a friend, Drew, recently posted to the Facebook this meme …
… and I thought well, what if the Oompa’s showed up at the funeral of this meme guy, a fella named Bob maybe, whose ‘last mistake’ was actually his LAST mistake.
Now, if anyone was wondering why it’s been so long since I’ve had a girlfriend, probably not, well, this is the kind of thing that I think about and do for fun which goes a long way to explaining said singleness.
I don’t date, don’t go to movies, or dinner, or events, or play pickleball, or go “clubbin'” and whatever that might entail (sounds expensive and I ain’t got the wardrobe for it as I’m sure sweatpants aren’t gettin’ me past the bouncer) I don’t nature hike, I’m not a regular at any monthly game nights with friends, I don’t Church, I don’t Astrology (seriously? the phases and prickliness at holiday get togethers of Mars or Venus? Be more concerned with the “aura” of that rogue planet we pissed off in the late 40’s, I don’t go to family get togethers with anyone new and pretty in tow to make Aunt’s happy (Oh, “finally” they would say in small Aunt klatches quieting any busybody speculation), I don’t gym or bike or jog or even walk briskly, not that some exercise wouldn’t hurt, I don’t do anything in groups though the one’s I am not in might sometimes remark unfairly of such, no, I just do this sort of stuff and other writing things silly and not silly, oh, and I have full blown conversations with cats.
It’s amazing what you can learn about a cat’s daily by the way, if you just take the time to listen.
“Really? You meditated in a window in the sun (napped) while contemplating the mysteries of the universe (still napping) and then woke up and went to the litter box?!”
Yeah, that ‘single’ status ain’t changing anytime soon I don’t think.
Anyway, for the dearly departed Bob, who took one final unintended bus ride to the sky.
Oompa Loompa Bob Song
Oompa, Loompa, doompety-do I’ve got a little story for you Oompa, Loompa, doompety-dee it’s about Bob so please listen to me
What do you get when you’re walking a street Lost in your cell “hey, that video’s neat” You don’t pay attention to what’s in your surrounds Including that curb’s last mistake to be found
I don’t like the look of this
Oompa, Loompa, doompety-don’t Step off that curb Bob please tell me you won’t Oompa, Loompa, doompety-please Lift your head, look around at that bus bearing down
Thought to go back to something from a couple of years ago.
Originally a response to Ron DeSantis and his Ron dreamy land baron remembrances and his attempts at rewriting history, but, as the always obvious continues to become even more always obvious now, there is this and example of how honest, truthful and critical thought can fade given the right condemnation and empowered white grievance.
To The Fixx “One Thing Leads To Another”
The deception some white folks
Is want present false history
State by state they pass laws now
To hinder what kids can and cannot read
—
Just to protect them they claim
From truths about black and white
But when some books shed light
Difference wrong and right
That aren’t white enough they balk and they say
—
We’ll teach history no mention of trees
Oh when
One white leads to another
We’ll point out wrongs in history’s long stories gone and then
One white leads to another
—
The intention is to
Teach alternate washed whitey tales
Where there wasn’t a time then
Where justice judged with far different scales
It wasn’t baked into fabric since a father’s slave day
Where ownership was the way
But when an academic thought critiques that it’s never changed
They just ban CRT while they exclaim then
—
Teach history as only we can see
One white leads to another
We’ll point out wrongs in history’s long stories gone and then
One white leads to another
—
Yeah Yeah Yeah
—
One white one one white leads to another
—
Indoctrination is their fear into liberal ideology
That kids might fall not wanting them to
To learn now how to actually think free
Hear opinions both sides even some they disagree
Can’t have them thinking that way
‘Cause if critical thought questions white supremacy
Indoctrinate instead with our own theories
—
We’ll teach history as only it can be
One white leads to another
We’ll point out wrongs in history’s long stories gone and then
One white leads to another
—
Yeah Yeah Yeah
— One white, one, one white, leads to another (One white another) One white, one, one white, can’t teach of others (One white another)
One white, one, one white, empowered white brothers (One white another) One white, one, one white Liberty mothers (One white another)
So in the header for my blog here I do my best to give you an idea of what to expect if you decide to do some rummaging around some strange man’s attic or scream, after such, for help to anyone who might be listening on the front path three stories below to get you out of the shackles and chains (though, good luck with that – these are new double paned storm windows).
I mean, no site worth its salt doesn’t give you some sort of idea as to who or what is behind it and what to expect of its content right? Even if it’s just a pithy slogan.
News sites are good for that.
Washington Post – “Democracy Dies In Darkness” … or at the end of a slinking, weak willed, million dollar pen for an inauguration fund.
“Fair and Balanced / Most Watched, Most Trusted” … always with the jokes and works in progress for them there folks over at Fox “News” huh?
Voice of America “… choke … gasp … Kari … suicidal thoughts … reels … choke … the devil’s handmaiden … Lake …” Ok, that one’s a little lengthy and ungainly.
“This is CNN” … boring and noncommittal has its place I guess.
MSNBC “Lean Forward” … but not too far, leaning forwards or backwards, either way, can be a concern especially when dependent on the winds.
One America News Network … “The Wheels On The Bus.”
Breitbart … “Fuck You Democracy”
And others …
White House News (Propaganda-R-Us) and Travel Agency … “So Many Possibilities” … (that one can change on the fly though, depending on the legality or Karoline’s light ultra or meta ultra condescending mood).
But mine simply lays out for you to just expect things written of my everyday “sometimes funny, sometimes heartfelt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don’t like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that’s just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune and other songs, sometimes I even get a little bit poetic or story-etic or something like that.”
But the important thing of note here is that I’ve been able to come about all of these pieces while wearing the right pair of glasses, my “close” glasses.
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Lilly the Car has been making some unwelcome sounds lately, like she’s carrying a bucket of steel stones under her belly, which, truthfully, she has probably been sounding alarm of for quite a while now, cries for help, I just haven’t heard them from listening to my damned heavy metal return to old school volume Deep Purple for open windows in nice weather. That rumble of Ritchie Blackmore and the boys might have even contributed to it.
But when I finally turned the volume down I realized, shit, there might be an issue here. My apologies Lilly, you and my mother could surely commiserate on Steve, still, after all these years, never listening to those pleas to please turn that crap down.
So, I inquired of a shop, which was a concern of mine since moving up this way. Could I find a place like Lou’s (from many years down in Beacon) that I could trust? Well Beck (my Sis if you didn’t already know) via my nephew and his gear head friends, recommended a place called Hari’s that I immediately liked it as I couldn’t find it under “Harry’s” with any search. Nope, I just liked it.
Then I asked Beck if she could follow me to drop Lilly off and then give me a ride the rest of the way to my day. Her commute mirrors mine, or can mirror mine in times like this as she works just around the corner.
And that was it, thanks Beck with a wave. But when I went inside to my desk, started the process of a day, I realized that things were a bit fuzzy.
First thought? Oh, son of a bitch, my eyes just got really bad, like seemingly overnight, then I looked at my phone, even worse, as that shit is small and now I was going to be checking on the going rate of pencils. I was suddenly Burgess Meredith in that classic Twilight Zone episode “Time Enough At Last” where he finally gets his wish for people to be gone and leave him alone in a huge library, with countless books to read for the rest of his days, only to then break his glasses.
Then? “Oh, son of a bitch twice!” I’m still wearing my “driving” glasses. There was relief for a moment, whew, I don’t have to make phone calls to the eye doc I also haven’t found yet for a checkup and distressing news.
But now I had to take my wave back and call Beck to ask for another favor, a much bigger one. Your idiot brother left his “close” glasses in Lilly and is instead wearing his “driving” glasses which aren’t worth a spit if, ya know, ya ain’t driving and could she circle back to the shop, Hari’s, and save me?
Though I can laugh about it now, stupid unintentional things that can follow me from the moment I wake to the moment I go back to sleep (though a lot stupid happens then too, just nonsensically and with more color) but it was debilitating. It gave me a greater appreciation for what I do still have, two pairs of glasses? That’s a non-starter of an imposition.
And it gave me a greater appreciation of a sister who surely just sighs often but still loves me anyway … for the most part … I hope.
Well it seems now that not only will I have to shell out a few bunch of dollars to fix that bucket of metal stones from under Lilly’s belly (you don’t want to know the estimate, let’s just say the number is equivalent to that of a ton of bricks) but I will also have to shell out some more for some backup glasses to leave in my always places … just in case.
Ok, now I have covered the “thoughts on getting older” (for recent things) part of my header as well, or more realistically “thoughts on BEING older”.
So from Merill’s prompt. 144 word max and use the line I have no skills for flight or wings to skim the waves effortlessly, like the wind itself . Prompt explained here in full..
The Black Hole
He lay back in tall grass, hands behind his head, with a straw sprig dangling his lips like those renderings of old book covers watching seagulls (they were called) dart between tall buildings, over snowcapped mountains, straight through cliffs (with glitches) out around a backyard table of children and cake, over charred cities up into horizons angry busy streets of untold stretches of war, water …
“I wish I had one of those wide straw hats too, to go with this strand Marty … peaceful”
“Letzzzetetzzzmebuddlefiddlefixxxxsssses thingzzsssglipat Ssssszzir … oldoldololddzzzsszz vid stories are cracrascrasssszzzzshingtogtozobdgether a-a-mmm-aaa-a-g-gg-gg-gainnnzznnzzngain“
“Don’t bother (looking to a shingle’s thought above the visor) I have no skills for flight or wings to skim the waves effortlessly, like the wind itself joking irony come to life my friend. No, let them crash together Marty … a new ride, like of those called seagulls huh?”
Been a bit for a So Then Sunday here where I just repost something because …
One: because I like it and came about it on another sleepless weekend writing new or just scrolling old stuff.
Two: because I’m just fucking lazy and ain’t got shit.
Plus The Trump Circus and Hit The Road Facts have me feeling back in the game a bit and I thought “why not” an older one and take a bit of a break?
So a “So Then Sunday” then.
I was also just bored and already had my headphones on after slipping down the rabbit hole of some cat and dog rescue videos. Just tryin’ to pull myself from out of the furry happy tearful abyss … but they are such cute stories … come back to us Steve …
This one is from January of last year and a response to the silliness of a “God Made Trump” video, genuine or parody or not.
It still works (nothing time specific) and I just love it ’cause it’s a shitload of words and fast.
Earlier this week there was an opinion piece at the Washington Post (yes, I still hold onto my subscription, knee bending, ring kissing, weak spined weasel Jeff Bezos notwithstanding as this section of the paper still has actual opinions and hasn’t been forced to acquiesce just yet) that asked the question of James Comer, Chairman of the House Oversight Committee, why he hadn’t sought to investigate the corruption of Trump like he tried to do so fruitlessly and embarrassingly with Joe Biden for so long and so hard?
“The Biden Crime Syndicate” he extolled at the time with no hint of irony or projection or proof.
The piece was presaged on the notion that he would have a MUCH stronger case now to make for actual corruption charges of the nation’s highest office, just with Trump instead.
Well, of course, we all know the answer to that.
Crickets … (sorry, my dear Cricket the cat, don’t mean to drag you into the political fray by cliche sound effect association).
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heartfelt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune and other songs, sometimes I even get a little bit poetic or short story-etic or something like that. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Raspberry (Razzy), Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Sundarbans,The sunderbans, Sundarban Tour, Sundarban Travel Guide, Mangrove Forest, UNESCO World Heritage Site, Royal Bengal Tiger, Tiger Sighting, Wildlife Photography, Bird Watching, Sundarban Safari, Houseboat Tour, Ecotourism, Adventure Travel, West Bengal Tourism, Bangladesh Tourism, People of Sundarbans, Local Culture, Bonbibi, Mowal, Honey Collector, Sundarban Legends, Mangrove Ecosystem, Conservation, Climate Change, Biodiversity, Sundari Tree, Sundarban Itinerary, Travel to Sundarbans, Kolkata to Sundarbans, Sundarban Boat Trip, Wildlife in Sundarbans, Saltwater Crocodile, Spotted Deer, Indian Python, King Cobra, Sundarban National Park, Sundarban Tiger Reserve, Bay of Bengal, River Cruise, Nature Photography, Forest Life.
A personal exploration of autism from a brother’s perspective, including family relationships, philosophy, neuroscience, mental health history and ethics
frankenberrysattic.com 