Tag: fiction

A Very Fine Funny Fluffy Movie Friday With The Gang (a sort of movie review)

by Stephen J Frankenberry2 Comments on A Very Fine Funny Fluffy Movie Friday With The Gang (a sort of movie review)

I leaned across my two nephews while the lights slowly came up and I said to my sis on the other side of them, “Hey Beck, how is it that this place is so dusty?” as I wiped the corner of my eye. Or maybe it was corners suddenly being in a round eye poking me, or possibly a very sad story about sad stuff with sad people struck me right at that moment or … whatever, just something to explain a few tears. Good tears though as the credits for “The Sheep Detectives” rolled and I waited for the cast list to see exactly who spoke the words that came out of which sheep (at least the voices I couldn’t quite place).

I definitely knew though, that we were 2 for 2 for winners on Movie Fridays now, my sis and my nephews, Jake and Matt and myself. Well, sorry, hold the post train there replete with sudden record scratch sound and let me amend that. Technically only 1 for 1 as the first “Movie Friday” was just Beck, Jake and me, minus Matt, though that was a totally unintentional miscommunication and was remedied the next day when Jake, to lift a newfound burden of guilt, said he would be A-OK with seeing the movie again and that he would go with Matt.

You see, being the sci-fi geek that I am, I had been really wanting to see “Project Hail Mary” but in a theatre, I just couldn’t wait for it to get to me in my room, in a basement, on a stream, with just cats for company. I love ‘em of course but they’re not really the ones you grab and say “Hey, who wants to go see a movie?!” They’re more “Hey, who wants breakfast, or dinner or treats or belly rubs” with the cracking of cans or the shaking of Temptations bags or the big show of cat pre-belly jazz hands, plus there’s probably rules against bringing them to a theatre and cat pre-belly jazz hands in public or something anyway. Freakin’ man!! Always keepin’ ya down!!

Then I took this want a step further and thought to ask my sis and the boys if they’d like to join me (sci-fi geeks unite!), a night out for the four of us and then we could talk about it later as opposed to me watching something, then telling them about it and seeing their interested humoring Steve reactions (bless them, they’ve gotten really good at these interested humoring Steve reactions in response to things I say, or poetry I send) and them then telling me how they’ve been waiting to watch that, or “wow’s” about how that sounds really cool and they’ll definitely be catching that soon and … yadda yadda yadda. You know how the rest of it goes. I’m just eventually the guy in my room, in a basement, on a stream, that watched something alone again with just cats for company until it’s replaced by the next thing I watch alone and rinse and repeat (well not the cats, they hate water and do self maintenance).

Though I am very good at watching things alone, I’ve gotten even better at it over the last number of years as a matter of fact, including going to the movies by myself, I thought it would be nice to have someone reacting to something along with me for a change (not just curling up and purring on my ankle) and maybe even quietly saying “yes!” together at a good part or “aarrgghhing” together at bad one or laughing in tandem at funny parts and then having someone to talk to about it later minus those sad “humoring Steve” looks.

(on phone a few Fridays ago) “Hey Beck, I’m almost done here what are you and the boys doing tonight? Wanna go see a movie? My treat?”

Beck: Sure, here’s Jake, ask him

Jake: Yeeeeessssss?

Me: Project Hail Mary, wanna go see it?

Jake: Hell yeah!!

Me: What about Matt? Where’s he at?

Jake: Oh, he’s out

Me: (a bit disappointed) Ok well, alright, then what about me, you and your Mom?

Jake: Still hell yeah!

Me: Cool, movie is at 7:15. I’m leaving work in 5. And it’s on me, tickets and popcorn

I’d been wanting to do something for everyone for a little while as life has had some rough or … interesting patches you could say, over the last four months or so for me and the three of them have been real heroes in giving me some much needed company and moral support assists.

But, in that quick phone back and forth lies the reason why, technically, we’re not 2 for 2 on winning Movie Fridays, the four of us, because of Jake saying of Matt “Oh, he’s out” when I asked where he was and Beck sort of concurring with this Matt is “out” thing by, I guess, just going with us.

Me? I thought Matt being “out” meant he was, ya know, OUT, like for the evening, with friends or something. No, seems Matt is “out” means, to the two of them, he’s “out” driving, delivering for Grub Hub, in his car, on basically his own schedule, with a phone readily available that can be called to ask if he wants to cut the driving short and go with us to see a movie … a call that was NOT made by the way.

I didn’t know any of this until after the movie when Beck told me that Matt had texted she and Jake while we were about halfway through the film asking where everybody was. Wow, talk about instant guilt, though on Beck and Jake’s part, this guilt shit was NOT on me, though I did feel awful, to the point where we had to stop at an ATM on the way home so I could get cash to give to Jake to pay for Matt as Jake, as I mentioned up top, immediately thought to cast aside his guilt by saying he would gladly go see the movie again the next day.

I told him it had to be as soon as possible to also alleviate the guilt I was now feeling just by proximity.  

Beck? She didn’t get off so easy as her guilt just gnawed at her and pretty much ruined the second half of the movie while she just wallowed in the knowledge of Matt’s abandonment by his formerly attentive, loving Mother in a cold, dark, silent, empty, loveless and blockbuster sci-fi flick bereft house.   

But since Jake did take Matt to see it as quickly as he did I’m still going to say that we are 2 for 2 on Movie Fridays and on our way home from the sheep filled second one we passed a bowling alley I didn’t know was there (I’m still discovering parts of Schenectady). Maybe that can be a Friday thing at some point as well and bowling is the universes great laughter filled equalizer right?

I know I’ve made a point of presenting here in the attic my solitary nature and how I’ve tried to nurture that further over the last number of years but I am also very aware that no man is an island, as has been written, more aware of it now anyway. Now mind you, it’s not that I haven’t thought of island scenario’s though, of what, say, 10 CD’s I would bring that would only end up being helpful to use defensively as small ninja frisbees or little mirrors to reflect sunlight into the eyes of predators, distracting them long enough for me to continue staying frozen in fear waiting for them to refocus and then eat me just a few extra moments of life and enough time to properly soil myself later, or wondering how I suddenly found myself in the company of bunch of scary, feral English kids who kept leaving bloody Boar’s heads in my lean-to or even searching wreckage on a beach for friendly volleyballs or the depths of the island for secret, hidden WW2 era freaky experimental stuff facilities.

But no, I’ve recently come to that “no man is an island” realization more and more and now look forward to adding to the list of winning films seen on Movie Fridays with the gang, or maybe that big fun of bowling, or even the memorial day weekend trip Beck, Matt and I have planned (sadly Jake can’t make this one with work stuff) to see my brother at his new digs in North Carolina … he and his three cats. That’s a total of 8 between the three of us crazy cat lady people siblings in case you were curious which I know you’re not (unless you too are really good at interested humoring Steve reactions).  

And before I forget, “Project Hail Mary” and “The Sheep Detectives”? Fantastic both and Sheep Detectives will definitely have you searching in spots for excuses for your damp eyes. Go see them with some family, you won’t be disappointed (just don’t forget to call Matt … he’ll find it weird of course but he’s always up to meeting new folks).

The Black Hole – continued (prosery)

by Stephen J Frankenberry2 Comments on The Black Hole – continued (prosery)

Been in a bit of a writing lull lately and feeling a bit under hasn’t helped, just a couple of recent things, but Merril ered up a prosery prompt this week that I liked though a bit of a challenge. Now prosery at dVerese is a 144 word piece of fiction that includes one line from a chosen poem. The line in this case “It all belies Our existence; we wait, and are still denied” from D.H.Lawrence’s “Winter-Lull” which is where this one posed the aforementioned challenge. Hope I used it well.

And this, unintentional but cool, happens to be a continuation to another 144 word prosery prompt that was also offered up by Merril, back in May of last year, 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?”

“Peazzzzsssblipburpful”

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“Peazzzzsssblipburpful … Peeeeazzzzzffbbbfullllb … Peesazzzzssssefffullll … Peeasssssffull Sszzir … Peeasssssffull Sszzir!!! … canzz you hearezzz me?! … it’s Peeasssfull Sszzir!!!”

Groggily “Well, Jesus Marty … it’s not all that peaceful now with all your fucking shouting is it?”

“Sszir!! Yourrrrr’re stillll therez, thhhanks goooodnesszz!!”

“Any idea where we are Marty?”

“Noze ccccluuuee Sszzir!”

“Why does it sound like you’re happy with this?”

“Beccccaaausszzzze weee’re sstills here, noooo mmatttttersszz wherezzz its issss”

“Well, that’s a good point Marty” he said taking measure of the cockpit of his ship somehow still intact, nonsensical readings on the controls and an even less sensical view out the viewport “that is a very good point … I think”

“Youzz thiiink??”

“It all belies our existence, we wait, and are still denied but yet we are here, in one piece Marty … shot through a black hole into … nothing?”

A Boy And His Cat In A Cone Plastic Hat – (poem re-visit with audio read)

by Stephen J Frankenberry4 Comments on A Boy And His Cat In A Cone Plastic Hat – (poem re-visit with audio read)

Ok, so a re-post in the Attic here for a dVerse Poets open link night, where you can contribute/link any poem of yours that you would like or you can choose to write something new to whatever that week’s open link prompt may be.

Now, I’ve never written anything new in response to that night’s prompt though I do recall maybe using one of those prompts and writing something new to it later on, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never contributed anything in the way of a link to an older piece of my mine though on that point I am not entirely confident as I’ve wanted to post this particular one for a while so part of me forgets as to whether I actually did.

If so, my apologies, but I can be sure that even if I have already I didn’t post the audio of my read along with with it and that helps, by the way, as it is a bit long.

Whatever the case may be, here is my Seussian-like Ode to a dear, dear Orange friend of mine that I wrote for him back in 2019 a few years after he had passed.

His name was “Shoes”.

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February, 2019

For three plus years now I’ve had this single line rattling round my noggin, bumping into shit. “A Boy And His Cat In A Cone Plastic Hat.” A Dr Seussian type line that has never let me be. I’ve written many a word around it in my head over these years as I remember Shoes and the walks he and I would take around the drive/roadway and parking lots that circled our apartment complex during his last month or so. It was a time for me that was as equally heartbreaking as it was wondrous. I know I’ve brought up Shoes often, enough so that it may seem tired, but he was one of those friends that needs be remembered and brought up often for what he was. A reminder of who we are. A reminder of what is/was true. I think, maybe, I’ve finally got this down now. Bear with me.

A Boy And His Cat In A Cone Plastic Hat Audio

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
Way
Stairs
Down,
No dilly
No dally
As time for him 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,
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
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
Long

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

Goodbye
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

The 3:05a to Somewhen (prosery)

by Stephen J Frankenberry2 Comments on The 3:05a to Somewhen (prosery)

A “prosery” prompt at dVerse Poets from Mish.

The Prosery is to write a short, 144 word piece of prose (not including the title) while including a line of poetry. The line here? “Lips forget what they have kissed” from Toni Morrison and “Eve Remembering”.

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The 3:05a to Somewhen

“Are you sure you want to do this? … well, I can hear you breathing … and you haven’t said no, so … you know where. 3:02a sharp with a 3 minute window. And just the empty clothes on your back and NO memories on your implant, just the ones we’ll give you. I’ll be scanning.”

“I’ll be there. 3:02a.”

He knew this could get him terminated, instantly, in the there/now before he left or the there/when he was heading, but he had to get out, escape, had to try, and he’d hidden it deep … real deep.

//////////

“A third scan? Seriously?”

“Something’s off.”

“It’s almost 3 minutes.”

A violent wind arrived.

Shouting …

“DAMMIT! YOU KNOW YOU’LL NEVER WAKE IN THE WHEN WITH A STOWAWAY!!”

“BUT YOU DON’T REALLY KNOW THAT DO YOU?!!”

“LIPS FORGET WHAT THEY HAVE KISSED!!”

“NOT DOGS!”

The Snow Was 17 Feet (poem)

by Stephen J Frankenberry19 Comments on The Snow Was 17 Feet (poem)

For a prompt of “Snow” from Kim at dVerse Poets and a now new poem version of a little remembrance I wrote a number of years ago of when I was a kid, after a big snow, and got my first scars, and a piece that I just recently re-posted.

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The Snow Was 17 Feet

The snow was tall

taller still in my small

17 feet

maybe

it had to be

at least

but I would climb it

cross it

on top to its peak

reach for now shorter trees to climb, view from above

with determined scarved stare

and new purpose swim goggles

in imagined funny tennis racket shoes (regular boots)

just like in TV shows of winter

with penguins

and white bears

and whiter void horizons

and shout to other snow still falling that I was their King

each and every flake

joining brothers and sisters that had played pile on

in the night

at my door

with a glass view of my calling kingdom

and I pushed and fussed and shoved and punched

“Let me through snow … I am King!”

until my view shattered and polka dotted

the front step’s landscape

and little glinting reflections

of broken, jagged sky laughed

and small kings found that they bleed

and scar

but

in an always reminder of snow 17 feet

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2026 is here and a post revisit – The Snow Was 17 Feet

I Opened My Mouth And The Devil’s Voice Fell Out (There’s Somethin’ Goin’ Around)

by Stephen J Frankenberry3 Comments on I Opened My Mouth And The Devil’s Voice Fell Out (There’s Somethin’ Goin’ Around)

Note/Warning: Overwriting fun

So on a recent Monday I got up with a reluctant sigh, a more reluctant sigh than the usual as I hadn’t slept all that well all weekend, more not “all that well” than said usual, whispered (grunted) my normals to Cricket and Bella and stood up (yay, I did it again, and still above ground too … bonus!!) and went about my morning business. Trudge upstairs with a towel, wave to my Sister’s gang, Arthur, Saphira and Rikki the Raspy, grab a shower and then trudge back downstairs though a bit more pleasant for the smells now for any possible downwind passerby.

Then …

  • finish drying
  • put underwear on while standing, something I am very proud these days that I am still able to accomplish without losing my balance and almost toppling over, though that doesn’t include the occasional getting your first foot stuck in them as that’s an any days, any age possibility and well, slapstick of new one legged dance moves can be funny (somebody call the Tik Tok, just speak Billionair-ese and add a Chinese accent – I’ve hit on a possible craze) sweatpants and sneakers next that I have already thrown on the bed to wait for me which are then applied in an appropriate manner that won’t garner any strange looks at the convenience store or phone calls to HR after I get to work.
  • rinsing cat bowls at the utility sink in the laundry room then (don’t judge … the paint stains are pretty old) and picking a food choice from atop my small fridge cache of cat food cans for the girls, eventually tapping one and then opening it under Bella’s nose to make sure it passes the appropriately stinky enough for cats cat approval test which is usually a once quick lip smacking Bella tongue which will never cease to make me smile, even on rough mornings, and then it’s cat noses down.
  • almost done, dressed, heavy hoodie on and then grab my phone for one of two things, neither of which, by the way, are to check for texts or emails or social media posts or anything of the sort that may have come from the outside world while I was sleeping poorly or maybe something I had missed (though, believe me, whatever it may be, if so, it definitely wasn’t “missed”).

There isn’t really any single thing that I care enough about, other than my Sis and the gang, that I will find it necessary to start my day by checking to see if it reached out or just to see what it was doing in its little corner of the world. Hell, it could even actually be something that I may need to be concerned with and needs to be addressed but no one needs THAT to start the day right? Waaaay too many possibilities. Let me at least get to the car so I can start cursing at people, you know, warm up a bit to the day before I need to begin “dealing” with shit, maybe even its (yours).

No, I grab my phone for two things. One, to re-turn on the strips of LED lights that outline this basement room of mine, something nephew Matt put up when he and Jake were younger and this basement was their game room. It’s pretty cool, to tell ya the truth, with so many color choices and brightness settings, that I wonder how I ever lived without them before, like I could have perpetually been the twelve or so year old Matt when he first strung them about.

Two, hit the little microphone and ask Google lady to tell me what the forecast is going to be for today but, on this morning, I was totally unprepared for the voice that would fall out of my face to ask the question. There almost seemed to be a hesitation to google ladie’s response and then an almost wary “the forecast today is calling for skin melting temps in the mid millions, and rivers of fire and rains of molten lava … Sir”

Whoa!!! What the fuck? I could almost swear I wasn’t possessed when I turned off Matt’s cool LED lights last night before I hit the rack as the voice I had, or wished I didn’t have, didn’t even sound human.

Now, I have had some interesting voices over the years that usually come with being the result of vice or are an indicator of a soon to be sick that have sounded pretty rough, there have even been times where I actually was possessed and the voice could be a bit otherworldly and menacing but things were always worked out, trades were made, but nothing like this. No, this was unlike any other sound that had ever fallen out of my face and probably explains why the wary sounding Google lady gave me a forecast quite Hellish and even called me “Sir”. If for nothing else, I have a new AI acolyte (and one not regulated at the state level which is a bonus) but this was even worse than when Peter Frampton and other bands discovered the vocoder back in the 70’s.

Then the phone call came to tell me to expect a letter.

A cease and desist phone call telling me to expect a cease and desist letter, and a one trying to sound very legal-like but really just sounded like a guy named Vinny, warning me that if I continued to use the voice that I only now just discovered I possessed, was seemingly possessed by, that the legal ramifications would be harsh and that the somewhat equitable trades, like those in the past just wouldn’t be enough this time. No, there would be no swaps now. No future children would be accepted, no souls would be saved even at the expense of my own (though we did have a spirted, however brief, discussion as to this whole “soul” concept, though his hard cut definition definitely topped my more existential one).

Oh, and my kneecaps would probably find themselves to be of issue.

I just …

dyyyyyyyyooooooo555555555555555555555555555555555555tttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttuuuuuuuuu7777777777777777777777777777777777777777777721qqe4444444444444444411111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111113777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777777

(Cricket!! Not now kid!! Bad timing … talking to the Devil’s people at the moment!)

… deferred, apologized and promised that I had no real intention of impersonating the devil himself. It did though make me rather useless for the day in my job as a radio guy as using my voice is kind of a prerequisite for the job.

Eventually my actual voice started to return a few days later and I was able to get back to things, though with lesser voice in hand and record, though quite raspilly, a radio show that I do with a couple of dear friend co-hosts and have for years now, the early portion of which did revolve around my suspected possessed voice and possibly just attributing it to being part of the winter season and the sniffles and colds that can come, though a bit extreme.

“Frankenberry” said one co-host “The Devil falling out of your mouth, that voice?”

… and here it came

“It’s been goin’ around”

Oh, son of a bitch!

Seems no matter the situation, no matter the ailment, no matter the no matter …

“Hey, you sound a little rough”

“Yeah, a bit of a cold thing maybe”

“Its been goin’ around”

“Seems my allergies are acting up”

“Yeah, pollen, it’s Spring, it’s been goin’ around”

“Hey did you hear Bill lost his leg in a car accident?

“Yeah, lost limbs, it’s been goin’ around”

“It was a Big Bang and shit collided in just the right way and there was a primordial thing with bellies and tails onto a shore on a new planet in its new cosmos”

“Yeah, that’s been goin’ around”

“Been channeling the devil’s voice lately”

“Yeah, it’s been goin’ around”

… and then suddenly I had the measles and small pox and polio all of which were “goin’ around” and RFK Jr laughed creepily and raspy-like wile noting that we could be friends in voice and also just because I wanted to get a dig in at RFK Jr and, by extension, this whole dumb-ass world we live in right now.

The dumb?

Yeah, it’s been goin’ around … a LOT of dumb.

So?

Well, that’s all I got.

Good luck though, shit’s been goin’ around.

Some Tunes ‘n That (song links compiled in one, easy convenient post)

by Stephen J Frankenberry2 Comments on Some Tunes ‘n That (song links compiled in one, easy convenient post)

Note: How to overwrite taking a day off.

Once a month comes once a month, it’s pretty regular as once a months go, as long as calendars don’t try to fuck with me and suddenly change cats out of time on my wall … (hey wait, when the hell did that meowing tabby suddenly turn into a yawning gray long hair?) but once a month means that I am takin’ Monday off. And when I do, take this once monthly, it can sometimes involve a new “tune” …

f4444444444444444444444444445vcvxcd5f54rzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzcddddddddd   

7

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000k,lb;l;l;l;l;lpppppppppppppppppppppppppppp(L8kd

(sorry, that was Cricket in case you were curious, always reminding that she is a part of this process, blind keyboard stepping right through, though her singing voice definitely can leave a bit to be desired … but so with ya on the solitary 7 my friend … I know huh? Nope, don’t get me started)

… and when that is the case, a new tune, I will take my time that often then involves me working said tune, though it has been a little while for this as we live in dire times, free thought not really being all that much of a thing these days so you must be careful, but I will work it.

Well I did work a new thing this Friday and with that, that new tune I thought, as I have done before, to put a few things into one easy, convenient post as once I am in song mode I am just there.

So, with links to their posts, I boogie woogie here, I channel Bob Dylan, there’s a new one with a big top soundtrack, I lament the white supremacy that seems to, so sadly, be a thing these days, from the top on down, I Cheap trick some need to conform, I rail on tax cuts ala the Beatles, and the always GOP minority rule via Tears for Fears.

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God Made Trump – God: “Yeah, That Was In Error” (boogie woogie song revision)

A breathless boogie woogie thing

“Boogie Party” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/

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Gonna Wanna Rule Somebody

(To Bob Dylan’s Gotta Serve Somebody)

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Trump Circus Two

(to a little circus sounding bed with “circus” being most apropos these days)

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One White Leads To Another

(To The Fixx “One Thing Leads To Another”)

White supremacy, proud virtue of this administration

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We Want You To Be We

(to Cheap Trick’s “I Want You To Want Me”)

To the GOP who feel they’re somehow being persecuted in their beliefs by not be allowed to dictate how everyone else lives

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Baby, it’s a Tax Scam

(to the Beatles “Baby You’re A Rich Man”)

Yeah, this one is obvious

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Minority Rule

(to Tears For Fears “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”)

Popcorn anyone?

Trump Circus Two (song)

by Stephen J Frankenberry3 Comments on Trump Circus Two (song)

I’ve written of this before (so feel free to heavy sigh and skip off now while you can) but one of the main tools for me in my job (I’m a production guy) is a production music site I use on an almost daily basis to find music beds for commercials that I will maybe voice or, if not, still produce.

But in my searching, though, for a tune that seems to work for whatever spot is at hand I will come across beds that I like, beds that I can even think that I might like to write some lyrics to and have a bit of fun with at another time, something I have done on occasion because Hey? Who don’t imagine themselves to possibly be a rock star right? I know, that’s silly but still, for me, it’s always been just another avenue for creating and also to do that bit of rock star wannabe “singing” (“singing” definitely in quotes here but, being a production guy, I can work a little magic on the me sing end).

But, if you know this me here in the Attic, you also know that I have done quite a lot of parody tunes over the last 8 or so years, “parody” in name only though as they ain’t silly, mostly those of a political type to try and get some genuinely angry angers and frustrations out and make needed points (and lord knows there are a lot of those and needs of such, especially now) as, years ago, I realized, no matter how well written or compelling a straight up opinion piece of mine might be no one was ever going to read it. Period. Not even me back to me.

But? If I put it to a tune? Well …

So then to this and the updates …

A couple of years ago I came across this music bed that had a real carnival, circus kind of feel to it and well, Carnival? Circus? Yeah, that feel worked pretty well for anything GOP then or now (always does) and James Comer specifically and his fruitless investigations into the Biden Crime Family Syndicate, and his needed distraction from true crime family syndicates.  

I then revisited it earlier this year as, with this administration, Circus never really goes out of style.

And then to a now, another revisit …

Trump Circus Two

The Trump Circus big tops cabinet meetings now

While its members try one up each other how

They are bestest at these lapdog bestest tests

A circle’s turn jerk him from rest

.

Don nods approval or he simply just nods

Drifting to dreams of nobels or birthday cards

Wondering any King ever worked so damn hard

To nod all humble while he’s viewed as a god

.

Such blessed … circumstance

.

And he always

Keeps all on point

Of just how great he is

.

Reminds all around

For the camera’s now

Best ever in Prez Biz

.

This dog and pony show it never gets old

Spin propaganda to keep all in the fold

The only real truths are the lies fascists weave

Fake news real truth they call deceit

.

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

.

The Trump Circus keeps going round and round and round

Where lipsticked sentiments are found

.

They have though now dropped true governing ball

As we wait some golden age apparently one on hold

But it’s happenin’ right now is what we’re all being told

Don’t believe your eyes or pockets

You’re all better than days of old

.

The Trump Circus big tops everywhere and Hell now

As fishing boats keep blowing up, some twice now

But hurricanes have stopped at at his seeming hand

Protecting all the others at sea and at land

Let Them Eat Grapes (post)

by Stephen J Frankenberry4 Comments on Let Them Eat Grapes (post)

Decided tonight to not do any writing after bad attempts at forcing something (yes, fully aware of the now current irony here) and, instead, try to just keep to a normal, human, regular ol’ me schedule on a Friday for once and just pretend that it’s like any other night during the week and NOT a finally reached weekend to stay up to all hours like I’m reliving some little kid fantasy of being allowed to not have to go to bed all normal and such with no adult supervision or guardrails and eating nothing but candy, even though I AM an adult (at least as I’ve been told on occasion and that a birth certificate will attest) and could and should admonish myself and hold the guardrails up on my own but too often don’t (there was actually and admittedly a little candy involved … but hey, it was dark chocolate which is better right?).  

Last weekend kind of put this in some stark perspective when I realized on Sunday morning, around 9a, that I hadn’t been to bed yet, since Friday when I got up for the day, though I’m sure I nodded off at some point in my somewhat recently bought sleek and cool, tall backed computer chair holding the napping torch for old men everywhere who fall asleep in chairs but, as said old man, I just can’t do that shit any longer. Well, I can, but just not terribly well and when Beck, earlier tonight, as we did of bit of catching up on a day and a week, an eventful one, and a one where I was sitting in a rocking chair, I know huh? told me that I can start to sound a bit silly and punch drunk about half way through a weekend’s lack of sleep and I realized enough is enough.

So, I decided to just stick to my usual weeknight schedule on this Friday. Come home, say Hi to Beck and Mr Matt (nephew) and the Arthur and the Saphira and the Rikki (cats), give a “Hello” shout down the stairs to my Bella and the Cricket (also cats) while moving rather quicky to the bathroom for a pee (it was a longer ride home than usual tonight with some snow that involved a long brush and a grabbing of gloves before I could drive, so peeing was of the utmost importance, the first thing, a priority, as that bit of extra time on the road can really get ya as an old dude) get some dinner in order for the girls and then for me, look at a few things in the Attic, some new likes and views and comments, thanks everyone, while Cricket waits to share my dinner, something she will remind of in meowling impatience if I am moving too slow for her liking on some nights, plus I know, she knew, that I had some pasta tonight … she could smell it … a slice of ziti ala vodka pizza from earlier and the Cricket, well she just LOVES herself some pasta.

Then it was search for a something to watch, continue some recent new found shows maybe, “Pluribus” or “Down Cemetery Road”, look at the texts I send to myself during the week for new watch ideas, possibly a movie, or just scroll through all the possibilities without really deciding on anything, just preview a bunch of trailers which, eventually, can prove to be just like I had taken the time to watch an actual movie.

I did eventually decide on something though, “The Legend of Ochi”, which I had been eyeing for a while, for a well spent 5 dollar rental, which was a story of unintentionally befriending some perceived enemy but one that’s really cute with big ears and one we’ve seen many times over but had Willem Dafoe and Emily Watson and Finn Wolfhard from “Stranger Things” and a wonderful young actress I didn’t know and a really cool, really cute, big eared little furry fella I just mentioned with even bigger emotive eyes and a Momma just waiting for and dearly missing him.

This garnered some genuine welling up from me at the end, eye dabbing with the bottom of my T-shirt, but not in a bad way, though there were some harrowing moments and I thought “Well done Me. You spent almost a movie’s length worth watching trailers and then also watched a full movie (after its trailer – twice) and still kept in line, almost, with a regular night during the week”.  

But then, at the end of “The Legend of Ochi” and, again, some eyes dabbed with the bottom of a t-shirt, I went to my little half fridge for a seltzer and a beer and I noticed the remainders of a bag of grapes that I had brought home with me, from my other little fridge, the one under my desk at work and I said to myself “Let them eat Grapes”

Then I was fucked.

Now I had to get up and expand on “Let them eat grapes” and I had been doing so well.

And this was the dumbest of shit. I mean who the hell is going to say “Let them eat grapes?” Who is possibly going to take that as some dismissive thing, as it sounded in my head, like Marie-Antoinette and some shit about cake (which didn’t really work out all that well for her if embellished, somewhat fictional history recalls) but “Let them eat Grapes?”

Hell Steve, who don’t like grapes?

I mean if I am some sort of disdainful aristocrat basically telling you to fuck off “Let them eat grapes” would be a real head scratcher right?

Let them eat grapes and let them have universal health care and let them shorten the divide between the have’s and the have nots and let them feel safe?

Yeah, surely some correlations to our current here but I ain’t goin’ there, not right now at least. That’ll just make me angry.

So, “Let them eat grapes” which I did by the way, as I try to be a bit healthier with my snack choices these days but only after some dark chocolate of course.

Of Aunts and Thank You’s

by Stephen J Frankenberry2 Comments on Of Aunts and Thank You’s

“Steve, I have some news” Beck said as I poked my head in the living room to her on the Beck couch to say “Hi” after what had been a frustrating but finally muddled through Friday.

“Aunt Anne passed away”

I was going to joke about something totally silly in my poking corners of living rooms with sisters on couches and then …

… pause … “Oh no … no” and I flashed to the late 90’s almost 00’s and felt guilty, immediately, as I hadn’t talked to Aunt Anne in too long.

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

There were thank you cards that I would never send for wedding gifts I never kept (though there were a couple I would like to have, that fully loaded tool box filled with shit I would never need or know how to use for one) and feel guilty of for the longest of time and there was paperwork eventually that said the magic had passed well before its time or thank you card expectations suddenly no longer a thing, plus divorce numbers in graphs and charts and over multiple demographics helped me explain, painfully, fast endings and also just being lazy and hurt.

“Hey what time is it?”

“It’s now and you still haven’t sent those thank you cards and, oh, try again sometime, maybe, on this whole marriage thing if you can or wish?” Another thought entirely there, and a nonstarter.

And then there was Aunt Anne.

I needed a place, a spot, a wherever that wasn’t this whatever now, I needed, really, to just run away.

Cue Aunt Anne and Uncle Don and Florida sun and unintended but welcome beaches and Mouse dreams. Yes, I went to the beach and Yes, I worked for the Mouse, even wore tights and big ass floppy shoes and baggy shorts and plastic heads on the weekends.

I know, kinky huh? Just minus the soft light and candles and knotted rope.

She offered me a room, in a welcome home when I was at a loss as to what to do after my unexpected sideways step replete with those Thank You cards I never sent that I kept in a box on a new nightstand as a reminder of my lacking’s but also of my refusals (that was my justification anyway).

But Aunt Anne and Uncle Don and that huge living room where I would sit, cross-legged watching TV with them and commenting together on new shared favorite shows as a part of the family still sits cross-legged with me, along with remembrances of Benny the Cat who catted along with me to this new stead and who Aunt Anne, to her sure consternation, and unneeded pressure, kept an extra eye for “Hey that’s Stephen’s cat, keep an extra eye or i’ll never sleep and then be forced to hurt you … “

My cats have always had that effect.

We’re all, obviously, older now, shit catches up eventually as it will, as it does as it must but there are Aunt Anne’s and Uncle Don’s along the way who give you place, comfort, friendship, if you are lucky enough, a place to lay your head and regroup and even go to the beach or wear big ass plastic heads on the weekends (no, not in a kinky way … freakin’ wierdo’s) and breathe for just a moment.

Lubs Aunt Anne.