Sentimental Cats

How do I know that cats are privy to the thoughts of humans and maybe even have a feel for the sentimental?

Earlier today, as I finally broke out the vacuum to clean a bit, I thought about taking this sideways box, with its old Steve t-shirt bed, out. Be done with it I said. It's been sitting on this rug in front of my TV for months, empty.

It was a spot my dearly missed Blink, in her too short time, would sleep in or use to torment old girl Mimi from atop boxtop when Mimi would claim it, Blink The Cat just happily cat slappin' away. But I couldn't quite bring myself to do it, to get rid of it, surely because of just that.

Today though, while I cleaned, and with firm resolve, was the day I thought, today it would go. Done. Gone. One less thing and pained memory to step around.

Bella has never layed in it. Ever.

And so it stays.

Ohhh, for mind reading sentimental cats.

Checking In On A Bird Or Two Twice

One: Because I said there would be more from these two and, no, before you ask, I don't know their names or gender (UPDATE: Found out - a gal & guy - meet Rico (yellow top) and Birdy Ray (orange top)). They're just two beautiful, godly colorful, noisy-ass birds with a good spot in the sunroom ... and they seem to like me. I'm good with that.

Two: Pretense for reminding myself and then pointing out to you all one of my all-time favorite of movies, "Birdy". An Alan Parker film (oh, where have you gone old friend) with Matthew Modine and Nicolas Cage and a soundtrack from Peter Gabriel. Win, Win, Win, double Win. I think I may know where Matthew Modine's character could have been coming from.

And shit, since I have the DVD, I guess I just planned my Saturday night huh?

The movie also has one of the greatest one word scenes ever, but no spoiler here.

Though I look a little tired here and, dare I say, old, this is exactly the reason that I look forward to coming home from long days.

Cats and dogs and ... birds ... oh my!

Cheers all,

Checking In On A Bird Or Two

Checking in on some pals after a frustrating and tiring close to the week Friday.

Silence...door open...then a chaos of noise and a brief moment with friends.

More from these two, plus, later.

Shit just makes me smile.

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny: "Gettin' Redder" - Song

UPDATE: 08-30-19. In a recent post, of another of my tunes ...

"He's losing it Mabel"
"But I know his Mother"
"Poor woman...she's a gem...but she tried"
"I think we have lunch planned for Tuesday"
"Who's driving?"
"Do we still drive?"

... I said "note that it's not your best..."  #6 in that post (there's a list).

Well I couldn't let #6, "note that it's not your best" fly. Though it may still not be one of my best (which, I guess, is all relative just to my endeavors in this small canon of tunes in the first place) I couldn't let lyrics I worked hard to be sharp be relegated to "note that it's not your best" and maybe be lost because the final piece isn't up to snuff, for me at least (this is an up to snuff by the way)

So, I had to try and clean it up a bit, try and fix that one shitty verse I mention there in #6 plus fix some of the breaths that made me sound like I was running a fucking marathon. They're just parody tunes I know, but they're mine. Ok, I feel better now. Thanks. Updated. It is a bit of a toe tapper by the way.

Taking a long weekend (a Friday and a Monday) for a single dude who gives not a shit, or two, or maybe even a three about such singleness involves a few things.

One: Stock up. You have no intention of leaving the house once you're in, so that Thursday night make sure there is plenty of cat food, litter, beer and wings from Adam's hot bar (grab an extra Wish Bone chunky blue cheese by the way, just in case, as being old and stuff you can't quite remember if you have one in the fridge and you don't want the headache of all the cursing when you get home if you don't).

Two: If you do leave the house make it quick and productive, in your case, heading down to the station yesterday to sing out a new tune and email the pieces back to yourself.

Three: Get laundry done early, even if you plan on wearing the same shorts and underwear for four days (I did mention that I'm single right?) damning the judgers (fresh sheets on Tuesday). Good to have a backup just in case the Pope or someone's Mom shows up.

Four: Think about shaving but decide against it as it is just too much bother and the mirror says "ehh? You're kinda good".

Five: Hang out in quiet with your Bella and the Unintentionals, She, Cricket the Blind and Mimi the Quirky while trying your best to keep an eye on the gang downstairs (loveable furry/feathered knuckleheads all), have a thought about maybe watching that movie you've so wanted to watch but opt out 'cause you're just not in the mood to invest the time and then refer back to the quiet hanging out with Bella and the Unintentionals.

Six: Build a song from the afformentioned trip down to work yesterday, from the pieces you emailed to yourself and wonder why the hell you keep doing this but knowing exactly the reason. Note that it's not your best, that that shredder verse sounds like shit and you can't squeeze tight enough for some of the high notes but know that it has it's moments. Words. Important ones ... at least for you.

Seven: Feel profound anger at the state we're in.

Eight: You'll have to be good at Six or else you'll lose your fucking mind.

A high five to myself (a "Too Something" thing...my old pal Russ knows) and to you all as well.

Cheers gang,

Gettin' Redder 

We're gettin' redder all the time.

Democracy used to be cool (now it's so passe) 
It followed a true set of rules (they're now so cliche)
Set by the father's
Who took time to bother
Independence their then new crown jewel-ewll

I'm afraid where we sit we're getting redder
As the GOP toes the line (thinking only purse)
Following trump cues to the letter
We're getting redder
And Mitch won't decline

We once were a free and proud land
But with despots we surely now stand
Trump tries to re-write while dimming the light
A constitution that's not up to braa-aaand

I'm 'fraid to admit we're getting deader
a little deader in the mind (in the soul it's worse)
I'm scared to admit it won't get better
it won't get better 'less we de-cline

Getting so much redder all the time
We're getting redder all the time
redder deader redder
For true elections we will pine
Values in a shredder

We once found a way to escape tyranny to keep us apart from cruel Kings and their word
But now we return and with trump words we'll burn
Histry's coming back vengeful full turn

We've got to escape now from the redder
Before it drowns us in the lies (yes it can get much worse) 
We've got to stand up and to remember
When it was better and we were fine

We've got to get less redder there's no time
Can we keep the red at bay-ay (stand up an be count-ed)
Push the auotcrat away-ay (grab hope make it swa-aay)

Can we get less redder while there's time

A Grayson Reminder

So this past Tuesday I shared one of those Facebook memories that pop up on occasion, mostly trivial and useless, "Hey, here's that time you took a video of that crab on vacation" (no, not your mother-in-law...badumbump!...here all week, tip your waitstaff) or "Remember when you posted about toast?" or "Here's a picture of you drunk with someone you don't remember, though you may have slept with her, from 10 years ago."

But Tuesday's reminder wasn't useless or trivial at all as it was of a video of my Bella on the kitchen table from 3 years ago in my old Hyde Park apartment where she, passively yet insistently, really has something on her mind. This video, because in her 8 years she has made barely a sound, is one of my favorite moments with her as she seems to be asking questions and, at the time, I knew these questions surely involved what was going on with that stray gray cat I was feeding that she could smell on me every day. It is also a little strange as to the timing of this Facebook memory presenting itself on my page when it did as it was just a day short of the 1 year anniversary of the sudden, so heartbreaking passing of that stray gray cat, who came to be my Grayson and a two year member of the then newly formed 3 Frankenteers.

I've been posting to my blog here for quite some time now, starting with life at the house, where Frankenberry's Attic got its start, with Maria and JG and the gang of fur back then, before my eventual return to singleness (something I think I'm destined to), but I've always been proud that my two pieces about Gray, "Grayson" & "Grayson Part II: It's Never Just Black & White - There's Sometimes A Gray Area" garnered some of the most views of any of my many posts, that along with the Dr Seussian ode to my dear Shoes "A Boy And His Cat In A Cone Plastic Hat". (Not a lot of views relative to what people of the internet might consider a lot by the way, but a lot relative to just me and my blog).

Though recently I've been posting a lot from the Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny, first with Trump dialogues (which I need to get back to) and then with my ongoing set of Beatles themed tunes, posts that have racked up a good number of eyeballs, I've always been proudest of the tributes to my dearest friends when they leave as they are just so personal and such a comfort to me.

Now whether, on all these post views, people actually read the post all the way through I couldn't tell ya (Grayson Part II is pretty long...like 3000+ words long). But just knowing that my two pieces for Grayson, one about the "save" and the other of the profound heartbreak at his passing so suddenly are right at the top in the way of views is just so heartwarming. It means, that a little scrawny, angry, left behind but eventual robust, happy, found gray cat got a few people to read his story, to remember, even for a moment, that he was here and that he was important.

Gray, it's been a year now, and Bella and I soooo miss ya dude, but know this. Some folks out there took the time to get to know you my friend, to discover the 'special'. That is a good thing.

A year later here my piece for Gray is linked above, it's one of my best (and the link for my Dr Suessian ode to Shoe's again as well). If ya take the time, surely Grayson would say thanks.

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny: "Being For The Benefit Of All That's White (And A Moscow Mitch)" - Song

1: Hey, whataya got?
2: I got a something.
1: A something?
2: It's kind of an anything.
1: An anything?
2: Yeh, but sometimes a something is more than just an anything and that's when you get a something.
1: Got it.

Said something.

Being For The Benefit Of All That's White (And A Moscow Mitch) 

For the benefit of all that's white
We'll re-visit Nur-emberg tonight
So gather round
Fox pundits they will gladly share
Masking bias they no long-ger care
Cage the brown
And four congresswomen we'll chant send back
Accusing them of being on attack
In this way Trumpy D he poisons the well

The ignorance of this Trump D
Rallies at a furious speed to gather base
The Tucker's Hann-itys are there
Fox and Friends as well don't care, lets bring the hate
His lapdogs blindly follow suit
Justi-fy his words or just hit mute 
And of course Mitch's ele-phant dances the worst

......................................

The white takes hold at half past black
Un-American the tried true tack
Let's send them back
He'll propagate a fantasy, new histry's order
On favorite stage, he's got a knack
It's 2 plus years of prep-a-ration
To induce separation of this Klan
And tonight Trumpy D he'll go for the kill

(For the benefit of all that's white
Mitch blocked a bill to try and right
Our voting plight
The Russians he invites back in
Others please come join the din
Truth take flight
A complicit GOP it plans to benefit
Renewed elector'l hack
Free-dom suffers elephant's wrath
A planned whackety whackety whackety whackety whaaack
Their treason's always on the attack)