30 Years On And A Reminder

“Hi…I believe you are the same Frankenberry I met in Pittsburgh at a bar Someplace Else. Crazy if it is. I heard u on the radio this morning. We watched a movie with Christian Slater n Marisa Tomei. Anyway-cool if it is and I live in Orange County, NY. It was way back in the 1900’s lol circa ‘93-‘94”

This was an out of the blue Facebook messenger note I got about a month or so back now, from a long lost who remembered me while I stretched the brain to do the same and I immediately realized I may have been an asshole, probably was an asshole for some reason as often in those way back in the 1900’s circa ’93-’94 times I didn’t think as much as I should. Not a good look on remembrances and someone reaching out with such Steve.

Yeah, I know, I thought to a me in my head.

Now mind you, there was never any intent on being an asshole if that were the case, obviously, I was always genuine I’d like to think, have always been genuine in new found affections and in generals, always wondering of the down the roads. I’ve never understood temporaries. Down the roads. But I also wasn’t very good at sustaining this thought back then. I was all over the place, disjointed, sometimes haphazard, was hard working a radio working (with a few extra jobs) trying to prove my worth and also enjoying the semi-celebrity status of a jock with a funny name at a well known Rock N Roll Pittsburgh radio station and in places to trot it out I found a cockiness I had never known and that I reveled in …

… for about 5 minutes.

I didn’t like it.

I have since purposely eschewed the whole idea of anything resembling this, having not been a jock now for so many intentional years, having put aside the notion. I just do production now, imaging, fairly nameless, a voice heard in one of our big station’s here identity, a couple of podcasts but with no fanfare. I’m much more comfortable with that.

I responded back to this message with a yes and and an immediate apology for whatever I may have done wrong 30 years ago (apparently I never got back to her – did I mention asshole?) a recount of time and where I had been and she recounted her same and we talked, via messenger talk. We talked. We talked. Continue talk. We talked even out loud. I found myself really enjoying this which was new, now. Not new, as in new, like I had never done this before, but new for me now as to the years I’ve spent trying to NOT have any conversation like this, anything that may have been construed as a possible lead up to something. I had become pretty insulated almost hermit-like, and intentionally so with my free time, and I was Ok with that, plus it kept my any possible asshole at bay.


The last time I’ve been on a date was around 8 years ago now, something that hasn’t bothered me in the least, not that that is something expected here I tell myself (though), it’s a bit of a daunting thought actually after so much time and miles on the bones and a few extra pounds around the belt that make for an awful profile pic and a possible awkward moment when someone asks me when I’m due and a head full of a sort of blonde salt and pepper that I don’t think I can call distinguished yet and some needed quality time with the dentist down the road and worry that maybe I’ve missed a window with my lack of caring blah blah blah and that last date was just a final “let’s go out before you leave” sort of thing anyway so I’m not sure that that even counts. One last Hurrah with a hands on hips her back to my front to the band rocking back and forth and then a kiss on the cheek and a handshake and a can I help you with those boxes tomorrow? The getting rid of our house was pending, she had a new boyfriend now and I was just living upstairs in Frankenberry’s Attic with a computer for words and a couple of cats for company and wondering of where I’d gone and where I would be.


There have been pictures sent of cats and dogs from us both, and the prettiest of Roaring 20’s themed Halloween costumes that would have any warm blooded, or even cold blooded guy exclaim “Holy Cow!”, even the prettiest of half face shots with an orange cat on a shoulder on a couch the envy of any woman who would think to send half face shots with an orange cat on a shoulder … did I say the prettiest and I wondered, “you have seen my old ass pictures in the Attic here right?”


But from finally getting out of the house to a Pirates/Mets ballgame just a few months ago after four years with my bestest of buds Jeremiah, daring crowds and public once again to working not one, but two broadcast gigs with Spectrum News out in the public sphere at a couple of colleges (two posts from one of them in Schenectady) to now doing something like this, even if it’s just fun talking or something with some actual interest, something I had resigned myself to probably never happening again, I’m feeling almost an overload of being all human and social … and giddy?

I find myself singing just a little bit louder to the Rainmakers these days in the car, my most recent band obsession, catching up on tunes I hadn’t heard till this obsession, some from right around that time as a matter of fact, on the way to and from work, BB giving me a nod as he knows my singing and just might notice the change in tenor with a wink, if cars named BB could wink or nod, I find myself feeling just a bit more … happy?



I think I might be OK with this if it is a something … but even if not, just the feeling a little bit more alive again is so well worth it. A reminder. And I have a new (old) friend who maybe has given me a mulligan after all these years.


Well … that is a good pretty I see looking back at me and an in turn somehow looking at my un-pretty and being Ok with that, un-pretty old lines marking my under stickered suit case eyes mapped in years traveled, stickers on a full baggage steamer trunk holiday that hasn’t been all that much holiday that I want to be careful unpacking too near anyone and tired tired’s sometimes but a maybe conversation, conversations still to be had before the next stop, possibly a good one.

Searching a new sticker. Steamer trunks always need new stickers.

Don’t get ahead of yourself Steve.



Sign On A National Park Lawn: Please Don’t Lick The Toads

Came across this earlier today and try not to think about how this, for some, is necessary.

Note for future vacation planners: If you are thinking of a trip to the western U.S. anytime soon, maybe sometime in 2023, the National Park Service has issued this notice about toads and how, you know, you shouldn’t lick them, especially the Sonoran Desert Toad.

“These toads have prominent parotoid glands that secrete a potent toxin. It can make you sick if you handle the frog or get the poison in your mouth. As we say with most things you come across in a national park, whether it be a banana slug, unfamiliar mushroom, or a large toad with glowing eyes in the dead of night, please refrain from licking. Thank you.”

Now I’m sure for some of you that when coming across, say, a banana slug or a large toad in a National Park, possibly in the dead of night mesmerized by glowing eyes, your first inclination may be to lick it, or them if you come across both at once as a sort of daily double bonus, as I mean, who wouldn’t jump tongue first to such and surely the National Park Service is sorry to be such killjoys but they’re just looking out for your wellbeing and trying to keep you from tripping your ass off from licking psychedelic toads and mistaking the edge of a ravine for anything other than the edge of a ravine and then them having to scrape you off of the rocks below.

Though if you feel as if the National Park Service has now thrown a wet blanket on your western U.S. vacation plans for next year take heart in the fact that the notice said “As we say with most things you come across in a national park … please refrain from licking” with the operative word here being “MOST” in the MOST things you come across in a national park.

So it seems there could be a bit of licking hope after all, a licking loop hole, a bit of licking wiggle room for wiggly things you could say and even with the National Park Services’ unintended blessing ‘cause well, MOST things ain’t ALL things right?

You may not have to put those plans on hold after all and you’re probably already gleefully wondering if there are any scorpions with psychedelic gland properties, I mean the Park Service didn’t mention them specifically so …

** Provided as a public service

A Daylight Saving Monday Surprise

So this Daylight Saving nonsense, moving the clocks back in the Fall, doesn’t really have much of an effect on me, I don’t work Sundays where the extra hour would be a more tangible thing or do overnight weekend radio any longer where an hour was tacked onto my shift, no, I just sleep right through it and know that the clock in my car will finally tell the correct time again until March when I head to work on Monday.

Now I say doesn’t really have MUCH of an effect though as there is one, an effect I came about this morning when I got up close to my alarm for that pee break you take when you’re close to your alarm that you don’t really want to take because you’re close to your alarm and you argue with yourself over whether you really need to get up, this close to your alarm an all, is this really urgent or the old man that you are just thinking he MIGHT need to go, aren’t you sooooo perfectly comfortable right now and so on and so on.

Well, I lost the internal “stay in bed” argument, and, flashlight in hand so as not to step on anything furry along the way, I made my trek to the bathroom (I did have to go by the way and with the “get out bed” half of the argument gloating a little bit) and then flashlight still in hand so as not to lay down on anything furry that may have Jones’d my warm spot the second I got up I made my way back to bed but not before I pointed the flashlight at the Pittsburgh Pirates clock I have hanging above my computer desk.

It said 5:45am (which is actually around 5:32am as that clock is always gaining time almost as if it’s mocking me and trying to age me a little faster).

“5:45 or around 5:32!!?? Son of Bitch!!” I sigh/screamed in my head.

Then I checked my phone to make sure my 7:45am alarm was turned on.

My phone said 4:31am.

“WhooooHooo!!!!” I overjoyed in my head.

Man that was just huge right then and there this morning and Cricket hadn’t Jones’d my spot so I was able to just slide right back into bed without any extra moving of cat machinations and then revel in that extra hour.

Possibly the greatest single hour of time EVER!!

Ok, so this Daylight Saving thing ISN’T complete nonsense.

Good Plants

Not too long ago I asked my Sis if she could recommend a good plant for the apartment as I just wanted a plant(s), something to add a bit more life to this space on top of the already existing feline furry and human here, plus I had had plants before and missed the addition, one in particular who had proven a bit magical quite some time ago.

I had bought and brought home (for a good dollar) the prettiest of Lilies but without doing my due, dude you have the aforementioned feline furry ones, diligence only to discover with a simple click or two. Cats? Lilies? Bad.

So, thus, the call to my Sis who does a furry homestead like me but is also quite the green thumb and knows cat safe plants and she said she could gift me a couple of small fledgling Spider Plants.

Fledgling? I don’t know. New sprouters, new greenies minus some old baseball candy speed stories or dog chews, newly sprung of this earth only to rise to the heavens sun worshipers? Whatever, fledgling worked well enough for me plus they would come with pots and dirt included and were to be, as I said, gifted, less the extra Lily $$’s and along with another gift, a small tall table from a friend at work and I was good to go (Lily did find a home by the way, with my pal/boss, who hadn’t done plants before this but dotes a bit now … I followed his instructions when he was out of town recently and he asked me to check his mail and water Lily, and give her a turn in her window, just right, give her a spritz even, tell her she was a good plant).

Why is any of this a post? I don’t freakin’ know I just know that there’s nothing compelling on TV, I’m sure there is but nothing’s grabbing me, I just wanted to sit and write something, an anything and that earlier tonight as I was saying Hi to my Spiders, Erica and Sid (yes I named them, a real stretch on Arachnid, that was the attempt, probably should have gone with Erica and Ned, but I knew a guy named Ned once and he was a real asshole) I noted that the two of them were doing pretty well after four months or so with a window and water and dirt and some very one sided though spirited conversation.

They reminded me of that one plant, more a small tree, from years ago who proved to be that bit of magical that I mentioned earlier, going from a thin trunk and mere sticks, last legs/sticks in a last ditch pot to growing and blooming and dropping the most beautiful of small blossoms from his branches over two kittens in an early this was the finally found future time I had always dreamed of with a newly wed better half (it wasn’t) asleep in their chairs underneath him (his name was Heckett) after he being stuck with me in a room for too long, on too many days, with my early computer pacings, talkings over REALLY bad poetry so many years ago.

There is something to be said of bad poetry it seems. The plants know. They may sigh, but they know and sometimes even unexpectedly bloom and petal on kittens.

So, a before and now and finding things to write about, anything.

Hey Erica? Sid? Just wrote something about you two ………….. no? Nothing? Not yet?

That’s alright, probably best you hold off on your response, for now at least.

A Boy And His Cat In A Cone Plastic Hat (audio post)

I know I’ve posted this one a number of times since I wrote it a few years ago, for an orange friend, apologies on the repetition, but I thought to do a read of it for an audio post. Still missin’ ya kid.

A Boy And His Cat In A Cone Plastic Hat 

There was a boy and his cat in a cone plastic hat

Who found themselves walking this way and way that

In circles round home on a night by night trip

He talkin’ cat list’nin’
At a calm peaceful clip

You see

The boy’s cat in this cone plastic hat was not well

And the boy he had many long stories to tell

To his dearest of friends of 11 grand years

But trying to do so without shedding his tears

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

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

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

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

You see

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

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

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

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

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

He thought

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

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

Always Shoes

You see

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

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

Schenectady (two)

(Monday October 31)

Schenectady Two:

So after being away for a couple of days with my Spectrum News gig for last night’s political debate between Chuck Schumer and Joe Pinion, up early Saturday for a two hour drive and a 10am crew call at Union College up the Albany way in Schenectady, a crash at my Sister’s place later but only after two wonderful hours of just sitting at her kitchen table, catching up, telling stories, hanging with her four-fur, one-upping each other’s laughs, nephews Matt and Jacob getting home from their respective jobs in the middle of such including Jake bringing pizza from his new pizza thing, screw you old job, and amid arguments with Matt as to who is the best local pizza “that’s not REAL pizza!” joining the stories while getting Beck “I see you” evil eyes for giving Razzy (the sweetest of old girl Lab family constants) bits of my extra sandwich made from the free work lunch sandwich platter earlier and tucked away in my little seltzer water cooler for just this kitchen table sit down (unexpected pizza crusts to come with more evil eyes) and the ruining of all of Beck’s efforts to try and get Razzy to stop begging at the table … damn that Uncle Steve! … “but she has her awwwww chin on my leg Beck?! What am I supposed to do?!”, a 12 noon crew call yesterday finishing the overly annoyingly meticulous debate stage dressed/camera’s view set-up, check check check … more check check checks, did I mention check check checks? meeting part of a security detail who, future reference, I would always work my best to make sure to keep on the good side of if I could in a need be, maybe a dark alley where I’m a bit out of luck (a really big and really nice imposing fella who is a Ravens fan by the way I found, though I obviously would not hold that, as a Steelers fan, large dude with a coiled wire under his collar earpiece Raven’s fan thing against him (hell, I wouldn’t hold anything against him) then event/debate, a blah blah blah, nothing distinguished for either, though thankfully no Q, credit you that conservative guy, a finish and breakdown into multiple trucks while grabbing the best of shortbread jelly treats from the green room on my way out, a two hour back with a Mickey D’s fries and a too large coke in hand for the ride home, a make my way upstairs past the sleeping dog gang downstairs who don’t wake or bother with me, haven’t for years now in my sometimes late post gig nights like this, as they might with other driveway arrivals, loudly, usually, and there is a comfort in that, in that knowing, in that me being part of the gang and making it to a too long breathless a sentence here …

I don’t really do caffeine. Especially late. After long days. A wired tired tired.

So I made my way upstairs after a couple of days of being away, Celie doing me the best favor for a crazy cat lady guy of cracking a can for the two of mine Saturday while I was out.

Bella on the where the fuck have you have been?

A wait at the kitchen door, a rub and a boop on a button nose and a follow follow follow “dude, let me tell you cat things” follow follow follow.

Meanwhile waking Cricket the Blind to say hello on her Steve bed sleep spot with an under chin scratch?

She’s so excited it’s like I’m at a service for a dear lost Cricket cat friend.

I almost thought to buy flowers.

Schenectady (one)

(Saturday October 29)

In Schenectady (I’ve always wanted to say I’m in Schenectady) today at Union College with Spectrum News setting up for a debate tomorrow night.

Just so cool to hang with Greg and the crew again make a few extra $$ (or recoup some $$ lost with no Spectrum football covered this season) and have someone feed me, in this case a nice sandwich platter from the too kind Union College folks. I’m pretty easy if ya feed me and to tell you the truth I often mark the remembrance of gigs not by the event itself but by what lunch or dinner was that day.

One of the reasons I missed football this season was not just the games but taking home all the extra pizza and putting it in my freezer. I was still eating some of it after last season in June.

Hell, at our Marist debate gig a week ago last Monday & Tuesday, someone from the school ordered us Panera for lunch (I know fancy huh?). 20 sandwich lunch boxes. We had a crew of 7. Thank you unknown Marist lunch patron for the overestimate as I ate Panera for the rest of the week, lunch and dinner, the two day paycheck almost gravy (on a sandwich with a chocolate chip cookie and a bag of I almost don’t like them but still eat them potato chips).

Do I remember the debate off the top of my head? No. Do I remember eating free Panera for a week? Definitely (Cricket the blind says thank you as well, she was a big fan of the Sierra Turkey).

But anyway, just nice to get back with the crew and get paid to actually leave the house on a weekend. A worthy incentive for a nice change of pace.

The picture of me with the half mannequin debater stand-in prop was just proof for my parole officer that I showed up for work by the way (nice fella but a little preppy and not much of a talker. He does look like he works out though).

A Friday Football’s Miss

So another Facebook memory popped up this morning.

From October of last year:

Another game in the books and a dollar earned (well, after tolls, tax, snacks, gas and text stop hookers – a wash). Guilderland did some dancing and CBA wondered why their name of Collective Bargaining Agreement is so uninspiring. But I’ll take that wash any day. Cheers to another Friday Night Light’s escape and Greg breaking out the “Frankencam” every week, though I don’t really know how this could be considered good TV. I mean, Jesus! Look at that. You’re gonna frighten the children!!

My response to this Memory:

Man, I really miss doing our HS football games (Spectrum Sports opted for an outside production company this year – don’t ask). Yes, they were really long Fridays, leave work around 3:30p drive a couple of hours to some High School in the Albany area, work a game on the sidelines with my parabolic and then do the couple of hour return, usually home around 1am or so but once I did get to the whatever High School of the week was I just felt at home.

I know I am famously, in my small circle, happily anti-social these days but I miss the crew, I miss the crowding excitement, the crisp of Fall, even the cursing cold of the last couple of games on the schedule not feeling my toes, I miss the grunting, dramatic, loudly focused, almost comically so, exuberant sidelines of High School footballers doing what High School footballers do, fist bumps with recognized refs pre-game, I miss handing out chocolate at halftime to my fellow sideliners for the break, I miss the paycheck of course and I even miss that ride home, the quiet of it, best if it was clear and the moon lit the way, headlights almost unnecessary sometimes, I miss that last/first stop at an any McDonald’s for a large fry and a large Coke for the ride, I miss the tired of it after a day well dayed.

Plus the upper Hudson Valley has been denied now the once weekly grab, courtesy of director/boss/friend Greg, from the “Frankencam” … such a tragedy.

Though at least I’m not scaring the children with such shots this season.

There is that.

New Cat Scratcher … Sir (audio post)

(this is something I wrote back in August of 2021 … a bit of a feeling old moment ya might say)

On my way home tonight I stopped into PetSmart to see if I could find a cat scratcher that wasn’t ridiculously expensive, something I wasn’t all that confident in accomplishing. Though I have managed to trim them on occasion, it’s not the easiest of endeavors to convince Bella to let me clip her nails and they’re getting a little long again as she’s clicking on the hardwood now like she’s taken up tap dancing and rehearsing a new number so I thought a new scratcher would at least help her with some nail maintenance.

I know she wants another one, a stand-up model (I do have a nice large well used wood framed one with cat scratch cardboard inside that sits flat on the floor but it’s not quite the same) as she keeps trying to also use this old one and well, a couple of short naked two by fours nailed together with a carpet top don’t really do the trick. It’s also Bella’s way I think, with the repeated attempts, to say “yo, knucklehead, human, can ya see what I’m tryin’ to do here on a couple of short naked two by fours nailed together with a carpet top?! Are ya catchin’ my fruitless cat scratchin’ drift … numbnuts?!”

She’s right, as this old stand up model doesn’t really have any cat scratchedyness to it anymore as almost all the rope is gone or fallen to the bottom like scratchy rope one legged shorts around its ankle. I only keep it for a couple of reasons. First is a sentimental one. It’s one of my earliest and favorite pictures of Shoes from when he was kitten, one of my bestest of pals who passed away 6 six years ago now, clutching onto it in its newer days to give me a stare and a sniff while we were getting to know each other and second, I keep it on the floor at the end of the bed as it’s kind of become a pretty good lean to assist for old man stand ups. You see I stand UP from my bed as I don’t have a bedframe, just my box spring and mattress on the floor ( got’s to be proactive on possible spots for monsters underneath right?) so the assist can be welcome, but not always necessary, I’m not quite there yet in my oldness thank you, though still welcome on occasion, breathy light grunty exhales sometimes included.

Anyway, as I was looking wide raised eyebrow eyed at price tags of cat seats and cat condo’s that can also serve as scratchers on the big shelves or a few smaller ones in an aisle across from them on the regular shelves a very pretty young woman passed to step into the next aisle for canned cat food, the aisle that has the Wellness Brand by the way, which is pretty good stuff and correspondingly expensive.

I found two possible scratchers but held the thought for the moment, debating 30 bucks versus 40, as the pretty young woman buying some canned food suddenly reminded me that I should do the same, even though this wasn’t my initial intent tonight, before that reminder fell out of the front of my head only to silently slide out the back. You see PetSmart has a few things the girls like that the grocery store doesn’t carry so I then passed her, the pretty young woman, reminder still holding noggin front, on my way a couple of aisles past her to where another less expensive brand is located, but, knowing that she was stocking up on the Wellness, I almost felt guilty and a bad cat dad for going with the cheaper stuff. I was even worried she’d notice, disapprovingly.  

After I grabbed a few cans of what, like I said, I can’t find at the grocery store , and a slightly more top shelf version of this one at least to ease my new found bad cat dad guilt, I made my way back to the scratchers aisle to make a decision on that 30 versus 40 bucks but accidentally came up one aisle short (because of course I did) and stepped right into the one that the pretty young woman was standing at the end of, still, though unknowingly, shaming me as she loaded a cardboard flat with the Wellness food, and I almost bumped into her.

“Whoa, shit, sorry, wrong aisle, my bad”

“No problem” she said

It then occurred to me as I stepped around into the cat scratcher aisle that all of this could have looked as if I had done it intentionally. See a pretty young woman pass me when, “suddenly”, it seems I need to walk past HER and then come back again only to “accidentally” step into her aisle and almost bump into her?

Future reference. I never do anything like that intentionally, I REALLY only ever do things like that accidentally, usually too lost in my own thoughts to sidetrack them unnecessarily for that kinda stuff. Plus that whole possible thought’s attention silently sliding out the back of my head thing I mentioned earlier. In general, if I happen to note, wherever I may be, that there’s some younger woman there who, like in this case, is very attractive I also then, almost immediately, note the operative word in this sentence, “younger” and that I’m most probably old enough to be her dad, a dad who would surely kick my ass at any of this whole notion of noting things. So, quick admiration and acknowledgement of pretty and I’m done with the thought. Then it’s just to possibly some accidental awkwardness.  

She ended up at the checkout line in front of me and as she was getting ready to leave, bag in hand full of her good cat mom Wellness Brand food and as I was slowly putting my cat scratcher down for the cashier while holding back ever so slightly on the lesser stuff being seen she looked at me and said.

“Have a good night Sir”

“You as well” I replied

Damn … yep, she called me “Sir” to which I had three thoughts.

1. Sigh.

2. If she did for some reason think I was actually trying to “check her out” or even hit on her and that I was a bit too old for the attempt and should know better the “Sir” was very subtly and very well played, very well played indeed. Bravo lady!

3. Sigh.

You know I think I might just be leaning a little more heavily on that old Shoes cat scratcher at the end of the bed for the stand ups this evening while pausing the TV or in the middle of the night when I have to pee a million times it seems, sometimes even when I don’t have to but just think that I do.

Me 2: “Well is that right now … is that what you’re thinking … Sir?”

Me 1: “Shut up Me 2 … fucker.”

Flat Earth (song)

So a grabbing of another instrumental from our production library site at work, one that I came across and liked recently while looking for music for some radio stuff and saved for future reference.

Well, that future reference then is now, and an attempt to write something to it for a short song.

“Attempt” may be the best way to put it but it works for me.

Flat Earth

I looked out onto the water

To a horizon that’s always just one crest away

It keeps stretching getting further

With every stroke ta-ken

Till soon a-gain  



Another day now

To leave me wonder

Do I even know what I want there

If I swim out

To the edge now

Skirting sea demons

But still fall off of this flat earth

Into space

What would I hope to find

Maybe a lover

From my immor-tal days

One blithely left behind to fend her heart’s ways

Maybe my father and a proper goodbye

Say sorry for not being there not looking to the


Or maybe Mother have her wake from her daze

And maybe recognize the world once again

Or am I just treading waves hoping they hold

Long enough

To skirt more demons

Before I fall

I looked again now

Onto the water

Horizon still always just one crest away

It keeps stretching getting further

With every stroke ta-ken

Till soon a-gain 


Maybe there’s still more air to gasp

Grasp and flail swim up from beneath the heavy waves

Back from off the edge of a flat earth

From space  

And swim back

Take on sea demons face to face